MESSENGERS

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

Jeremiah 29:11

Two months of twice a week evaluations involving play therapy, tests, one-on-one therapy and other extensive evaluating measures led us to hear this conclusion for Ryan:

"Your son is very intelligent for his age, genius level with an IQ of 142. He has impulsivity issues and ADHD."

I looked over at Ryan who threw his little body into the chair on wheels so that it slammed him into the wall. The impact made him fall out of the chair. He'd laughed, got up and did it again. Over and over.

"It is my recommendation that he be put on medication to help focus the ADHD and impulsivity and also come in for play therapy once a week."

Neal clenched the arm of his seat and dug his nails into the fabric. "I don't want my son on medication.”

She looked at Ryan as his chair hit the wall and then at us. "Mr. Deitz, I understand putting your child on medication is scary but let me put it to you this way, your son has the capability to be a major asset to society," she took a dramatic pause, "or a detriment. It is unlikely there will be an in-between especially if he isn't given something to help him to slow down and communicate on his level as well as focus his behaviors."

Neal and I looked at each other. I could tell he was thinking about his family as I was thinking about mine. Neither of our parents wanted us to put him on medication. “He’s fine. He’s just a boy. Don’t turn him into a zombie.”

We needed to do what we could to give him the opportunity to be an asset.

We took her recommendation to our pediatrician. The first sixty seconds Ryan jumped on and off the table at least six times. Dr. Gallo watched him do this with fascination and a telling smile. He reached out and tasseled Ryan’s thick hair. “A little hyperactive are we?”

He confirmed the psych evaluation but was against the play therapy. "This kid is so smart the last thing you want to do is make him feel like he has done something wrong. Sending him to play therapy might cause him to set himself apart as 'different' than everyone else and we don't want that. Mark my words he'll be off this medication and an upstanding young man smarter than you and me before you know it."

Trust. That's what we needed to do. Trust in God's plan and the recommendations of the qualified. Within the first few weeks of Ryan taking the medication I was on my knees singing the Lord's praise because it was a Godsend. It didn't make him a zombie or less of a little boy. It helped him slow down enough to interact with others instead of overreacting to their desire to play or be near him.

With Ryan's diagnosis and our couple’s therapy behind us we settled into a new norm of life in Kingwood.

Our sexual intimacy issues were better, not perfect or what either of us would consider 'normal', but better. I no longer felt the anxiety or frustration that would tighten my chest during intimate moments. I had healthy boundaries and no longer forced myself to be intimate when I didn't want to be.

That was behind us. We were in love again, and though we were still on uneven ground when it came to our faith life, we at least were on the same road.

That summer I made a pilgrimage to Italy and Germany with the youth group attending the World Youth Day Festivities in Koln, Germany and my life took a turn. I've had strange things happen in my life. I've seen evil in its purest form. I've seen angels and I've felt God's presence in such a way that I felt as if I could kiss His cheek. And yet, this experience, this was one that I knew many wouldn't understand. I received a 'message' from someone who called me out by name. He found me in a field of 1.2million people and insisted he had a message specifically for me.

August 20, 2005

Good morning Lord, I experienced my most troubled night ever, but amidst the strangeness it was also spiritual and fully of you. You protected me and you spoke to me. I need to write this down to make sense of it. A huge part of me feels as if all this is drama created out of my mind, my imagination, yet I have witnesses to prove it happened. Then I feel crazy, yet, remarkably it all makes sense and it is as if a puzzle piece has been snapped into place.

First, that man Brian, whom I met on the bridge in Germany to see Pope Benedict XVI seemed to be an answer from you as for moving forward in my writing because when we were introduced that is what we discussed. Our mutual desire to write a Catholic Bible study. When we met we exchanged emails and then went our separate ways with the understanding we'd email as soon as my first novel was complete.

Three days later, at midnight in the field, I was woken up to my name being called. One of the women in the group pointed at me and the next thing I know Brian was standing over my sleeping bag. "Come with me, I have something I need to tell you."

I can't explain what came over me in that very moment, it was like a rush of certainty. I knew I needed to go with him. At the same time I kept thinking, "How did he find me?" because we weren't even in the spot we were assigned to and we were at least 80,000 people away from where we were originally assigned.

As I struggled to get my shoes on one of the teens in my group said, "Bring her back in one hour!"

I smiled.

We walked at a fast pace and I tried to gather my bearings. "How did you find me?" "Honestly, I don't know. I was led to the spot and then I started calling out your name.”

He walked me to the edge of the hill where the Pope was to say Mass the next morning. It was covered with votive candles and I stood there mesmerized by the flickering flames. I felt a chest-tightening sadness come over me for everyone attending the extraordinary event who didn't 'get it'.

I turned away and looked at Brian. He had an intense look on his face as he stared at me. I walked over to the chairs set out for the morning Mass and sat down. He followed and did the same. "What is it you obviously want to say.” I wasn't scared, Lord, but I had an odd feeling in my stomach.

He looked at me then with these big piercing eyes. "Do you see good or evil in me?"

My skin prickled at the familiarity of this scenario. I'd stared through the eyes of evil when I was eight years old; I didn't want to live through that again. The difference was I didn't see evil. I felt good from him, which made me confused. I had no fear. "I see good in you.”

His look was intense as if his life depended on our conversation. "I need to apologize for bringing you over here but I need to let you know there is something that draws me to you, and not just me, but I know you draw many to you. You're like the candles out there, except the light of them bundled together that can never be snuffed out."

What was I to say? I listened.

"I truly believe God led me to Germany to meet you, I don't like to travel or fly and I never wanted to come on this trip. Then I met you and it was clear to me and I haven't been able to sleep since."

Unnerved by this claim I felt the familiar sense that maybe he was drawn to me for the wrong reasons. So I took a second. "Please don't think of me as arrogant, but for whatever reason this seems to happen to me. It is my weakness the devil preys upon, my need to feel 'wanted' by men and something they long for. But I've gotten caught in this trap before. I don't doubt God brought us together for a good, holy cause, but the devil finds that 'niche' to seep in and corrupt God's pure motives. I've given in, thankfully not completely, to Satan's tricks but I am strong enough now to stop it before it begins."

He nodded. "I don't have the strength but I knew you did which is why I needed to tell you not to contact me. You can't email me. I cannot see you or speak to you again."

I was stunned by this and how adamant he was. His urgency shook me deep.

"You know even amidst this greatest spiritual place there is much evil. You are in danger."

Evil was present. He shook uncontrollably. He took my hand and I felt eerily calm and knew I needed to listen. "This is the strangest thing and I don't mean to scare you but I just know, I can't explain it, but I know there is something about you that attracts both good and evil."

"What do you see? Why would someone want to hurt me?”

He let go of my hand and grabbed me by the shoulders. "Shannon, what you have to say is important. You will help many people and this will not please everyone because you have something new to say."

I thought about this, how it solidified some thoughts I had but never knew if they were of you or my overactive imagination. For some reason I thought about my moment of surrender to you on my bedroom floor. "Are you afraid to die?"

He didn’t hesitate. "Yes, I like my life too much. Are you?"

I shook my head no.

He appeared troubled. "I wish I could have that certainty."

I knew I needed to tell him what you gave me that changed me. "You haven't fully received the Holy Spirit. When you have the Spirit alive within you then you have certainty and peace of knowing all is good. Even when you tell me these things I am not surprised and I am not scared. I wish you were stronger because I know the Bible study we could have done together would have been good."

He studied me for a long time. "I know for sure I needed to tell you and to warn you."

"Do you feel like you are crazy because you are saying these things, I mean, I don't think you’re crazy just wondering how new this is to you?”

"Yes, I don't even feel like myself."

I got up. “I need to get back to the group.” I didn't want to be there with him anymore. We combed our way through the thousands and thousands of people and he spoke really fast about what he felt I needed to do. He said my writings would help a lot of people.

I looked at him in disbelief. "You don't even know my story. How can you know what I write will help others?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I told you, I just know."

We walked in silence for a bit until I got the nerve to ask him what I'd been wanting to since we sat down. "Brian, I don't want you to get mad or offended but was there ever, if even a slight hint of a moment, where you were going to, or had set out to, hurt me?"

He looked at me with such a look of bewilderment I was embarrassed I asked.

"How did you know? I mean it was a brief moment and I am ashamed it even came over me, but I know that's why I can't be near your or talk to you. I can't and don't want to harm you."

Deep inside I knew this was true all along. I knew you orchestrated a battle of good and evil before my eyes, not masked in colors.

We stopped in front of my section of the field. I felt compelled to give him my own message. "Brian, you are good, and I forgive you."

His face rose with hope. "Do you believe in karma, those that do bad get back what's coming to them?"

"I believe everyone deserves a chance to be forgiven and it's God who will decide if they get their comebacks."

He reached out and grabbed me by the wrists. "Write, Shannon. Every night write on that book now. I don't know what all happened to you but I wish I could've known you then to protect you. But maybe God needed whatever you've gone through to happen."

Bewildered I gave him a hug. "Okay, then this is goodbye."

One of the teens from my group stood in our section looking for me. When he saw me he came and gave me a hug and I started to cry. It was too much to take in. Too surreal Lord. But I know, impending danger or not, he was a messenger for me. It is clarification that whether it's scary or not, I know I have you and even though my path seems surreal, what you’ve chosen for me is real and I trust in you.

When we returned to the States I didn't know how to embrace my life as a mother of two young boys driving a beat up old Suburban and going to YMCA soccer games. The role of youth minister I could manage because it gave me the ability to be entrenched in faith and the religion at all times which is what I held onto after receiving this crazy message. But I couldn't tell Neal. He was my best friend and yet I couldn't tell him. I was afraid if he knew I took a walk with a strange man and then this strange man told me all of these crazy things he would think I was insane and lock me up. I knew what it looked like to someone who wasn't there.

I knew it was far-fetched for the 'real world' and even though Neal knew about all of the other spiritual happenings in my life he was quick to dismiss them. He never made fun of me nor did he ever tell me he didn't believe me but it was a 'story' I'd tell that didn't need further discussion. This particular 'story' involved a real live man and not some ethereal world demonic spirit or angel.

After a week I couldn't take it anymore. I emailed Brian:

August 27, 2005

Hi,

I realize you said you simply needed to have no contact. So consider this the one and only time I'll send you an email. I've been considering this contact all week, and as much as a huge part of me is against it and very willing to give you your wishes to not see or hear from me, the other part really needs to know it was all real.

Who knows, maybe you don't even remember me or the conversation we had. I have questions that I know I'll never have answered. I don't want to get into a back and forth trying to have that accomplished. So I won't ask.

I haven't been able to write since I've been back. Not that I don't want to...so many things are keeping me from it...which makes me flash to your earnest plea and I want to scream. Anyway...

Well, take care, God Bless and if you will, send me a short note so I know it was real.

Shannon Deitz

August 28, 2005

Hello Shannon,

Bless you for your message. I am fine and yes I recall every detail of our conversation, that night at Merrien field in front of the candle-covered hill. What I said to you wasn't fluff and it wasn't said lightly. I'll never forget.

I've received reconciliation for my sinful thoughts toward you and I try to dismiss further thoughts but it is difficult. Please don't contact me again.

You have to keep writing. You are an angel sent to a greater, specific purpose. You have to know that. And damn anyone who stands in your way. Were I stronger I would follow you to the ends of this life.

I pray for you every single day.

B

There it was: validation that I didn't dream up the entire evening. Yet it was still crazy.

Who says these things? I am 'angel' and 'I'd follow you to the ends of life'? I couldn't take it

anymore. The email was sent on a Sunday evening. I printed it out and put it in my journal.

Monday morning I took the kids to school and went to morning Mass. Through the homily the priest spoke about a friend of his who was given a specific purpose in life but the enemy was determined to thwart his efforts. I could not stop the tears from falling as I listened to a story that paralleled the crazy life I lived.

"I'm not special. This is crazy. I'm insane and egotistical thinking this has anything to do with me."

At the end of Mass I went up to the priest who I'd come to know well in the year and a half I'd been working for him.

“Hello Ms. Shannon.” He leaned down and brought me into a bear hug.

“Fr. B do you have time to talk?” My voice cracked and tears threatened to force me into a bumbling idiot. “I really need some advice.”

“Well, I think I can spare a minute. I’m headed out of town but you can walk with me to my office.” He finished taking off his vestments and locked the sacristy door.

I was too embarrassed to begin on the short walk to his office. Instead I caught him up on happenings with the youth department. Safely inside the confines of the four walls I sat down in the worn leather chair and felt my throat constrict with the onset of tears. “I don’t know where to begin. I don’t want to make you late.”

He handed me a tissue. “I’ll be fine. Just start from the beginning.”

For the first time since it began when I was a little girl, I told my entire spiritual story, from the near abduction to be a cult sacrifice, seeing the enemy at my aunt’s home, witnessing angles and demons battle it out in my bedroom, up to the encounter with Brian and his message.

"Am I crazy? Because if I am please tell me and I'll be glad to go commit myself." I almost wanted to be told I was crazy so it would make sense.

The priest laughed and smiled so that his eyes twinkled. "You’re not crazy, Shannon. This is a gift. Events like this happen all the time but most of us aren't aware. It is the spiritual gift of discernment. We all have spiritual gifts and we are stronger in some than others. This is your strong spiritual gift."

He believes me. I wept with relief.

He reached out and patted my hand.

His time was short so the conversation was quick and I gave him a hug and thanked him. All I needed was someone who, in my opinion, would have the highest spiritual authority other than God to validate me.

A weight lifted, I could breathe and function again.

The following evening I had a late night adoration hour, which is an hour of prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. During this time I would journal, meditate, and sometimes rest in prayer. That night I'd taken my prayer journal to document what the priest had said and how I felt encouraged to continue writing the book and tell others about my story.

It was 1am when I got home. Exhausted, I went straight to bed. At 6am I was woken up by Neal who was on his way out to work. He'd already been out to his truck and found a shredded piece of paper on the ground. It was the email correspondence between Brian and me. It must have fallen out of the journal and landed on the ground where the dog got a hold of it and tore it apart.

"What's this?" Neal clenched the paper in his hand.

Still groggy from sleep I squinted my eyes to adjust to the darkness within the room and the light that came from behind him in the doorway. "What?"

"It looks like some email between you and a guy? It says something about following you to the ends of this life? Who is this guy?" His voice dripped with a mixture of hurt and anger.

I froze. How do I tell him the entire truth in a matter of a second so he understands it's not what he thinks it is? "It's hard to explain."

"What do you mean it's hard to explain? You met some guy while you were in Germany on a pilgrimage?"

"No, no it wasn't like that. It's not what you think it is at all." I silently prayed he'd come sit next to me on the bed so I could tell him everything.

"Whatever.” He stomped out of the house.

I lay back down and could hear the blood pumping in my ears. God, what do I do? What do I say?

I couldn't let him get to work and think I'd betrayed him again. I called his cell and cried when he answered. The entire story rushed out like letting the air out of a balloon.

He remained quiet until I was done. "So there was nothing else between you two? How did he find you? Why did you go with a stranger?"

It felt awful. Stating the truth only brought on more questions. "I don't know. I can't explain it.”

By the grace of God he either believed me enough to let it go or he thought it so outlandish I made up the entire story. Either way he brushed it off as he had done with the other 'spiritual' events in my life as 'Shannon's imagination'.

I didn't mind. I knew I had proof and the email was the best proof. I printed it out again and replaced it in my journal.

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