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Tonight was a recovery night focusing on kids. I took a rest from the uncomfortable and often nasty experiences in the inner rings of the Afterlife Energy Ring. I wondered if it was the center or one small sub-section. If the latter, this place was bad news for any souls passing through it. There should be huge warning signs at every entry point. There are specific entry points one must pass through.

I phased into the City of Lights and reached out to the yellow school bus. I have no idea what it looks like to someone else. Cute, I hope!

I then called out for four Helpers, explaining the mission was simple and clean cut. I wanted to go in and out, bring some kids forward to go into the Light to get a rest, an energy repair, or whatever was needed to begin the healing process.

Some would need a beneficial reconstruction of their energy fields. Some would be blown up or disintegrated. The evidence of beingness was in their energy field as they waited. It was the glow of a Soul without the body, which would change soon as they are rebuilt in the City of Lights.

I checked my shielding and pulled out the protection globe with my left hand. I should name the globe.  Center of Solace? Passport to the Inner Kingdom? Light Master? I would think of something.

I wished for Alphia’s blessing (who was not here tonight) but soon received it from somewhere/somewhen and got on the bus. I phased back to the Afterlife Energy Ring and “landed.” Smooth, soft. A group of kids stood in a line ready to board. Where did they come from or know did they know recovery had arrived? Was it like listening to a weather forecast? Instant communication in no time? Why not.

As the Helpers got out and started loading kids, I saw a boy in a wheelchair (I had no idea our personal possessions transitioned as well if it is part of our identity). As I walked over, I saw that he was a very skinny, emaciated boy. He had been dead for a long time, sitting, waiting. I knew he died in his wheelchair from the last stages of ALS. He was hunched over in death as he was in life, unmoving except for his large, expressive, and intelligent brown eyes. I knelt by him and used the healing as I did with my aunt.

I talked soothingly and helped him relax. I moved my hands over his, building and sending healing energy. Some small signs of life appeared. I wanted him to stand up and separate himself from the wheelchair. He was no longer a boy in a wheelchair. He was whole. Complete. A gift to Spirit. He would soon be teaching others about suffering and anguish. I don’t know why but I liked this kid. He sent a message using non-verbal communication—he was an expert now. His name was Barry. I thought I heard a last name. Evans? Not sure. He was thirteen years old and lived in Chicago. He died in his chair from the ALS disease. He did not remember much of his last year when he lived in physical reality.

Finally, I picked him up, still soothing, still healing. I wanted him to walk into his new life. I found him a seat next to mine, closed the door, and phased back to City of Lights. The Helpers all smiled in approval. What do they know? A kid is a kid.

The doors opened. Kids poured out, emptying the bus. I picked up Barry and walked down the steps. Then I said gently, “The next step is yours.” He stood up like an old man. Slowly, delicately, not sure of his balance. He had not walked slowly, taking an exceedingly long time. Then two people showed up whom he recognized; I had no idea who they were. With a shuffle and uncertainty at moving on his own power, Barry walked into their arms. They smiled at me and turned to go, fading away into somewhere.

That experience made all the work worth it.

I sent the bus back to the bus yard, nodded at the Helpers, and phased back to my chair.

-Kevin Jeffers