Abby's journal

 

 

December 27, 2017

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Steve feels that it is best not to leave his voice on my journal for too long, so perhaps we will channel just a bit this Wednesday evening after Christmas. Steve was going to write in his "blog," or "Update," about the feeling of being this close to reclaiming--or consciously experiencing and integrating--his full identity as Mathew. He could do it...but it might be overwhelming! He would remember everything, not just the feelings and "intimations" he has, now. Now, he has his life "on paper"--then, he would literally be a continuation of himself as Mathew.

But he will have that--I am giving him the thought, "if he wishes it"--when he crosses over and comes here with me. You don't automatically have that, you see, but if you want it, you can achieve it, here. And he will want it, just as he will want me to be the historical Abby as he remembers me--but that will fade in time, because we have been so many people together. So which one do you choose? You can have your favorites, but there are, again, so many of them...

I have my favorites, also. But I did like being his Abby. He understood me as no-one else ever did--we were so intensely simpatico. Different in certain respects, but precisely dovetailing. I can't explain, but maybe you have experienced it.

Steve would like to go back to New England--but which New England could he go back, to? Portland with the carriages in the wide dirt streets, and the two-and-three-story buildings? With the literary figures and the newspapers he knew so well? That Portland is gone, existing only in the library and a few remaining structures and streets.

All that lifetime he lived in tribute to me, and in memory of me. He didn't know why he had to live on, unless it was to honor me by continuing with our work, expressing our shared ideals. His heart yearned for me to appear around the next corner, you know. If you really wanted to know what was deep in his heart at any given moment, it would be that which you which see there. Every waking moment, and many of his sleeping ones, besides.

Steve has a sense of my personality, now, from tuning in to me in this lifetime. He feels it when the "barrier" isn't operating, for us. Maybe 2-3 days it is down, and then it goes back up again, and for weeks at a time he can't feel my presence, and has to go almost entirely on faith. Then, it will steal upon him again, and he will realize, "Hey, I'm feeling your presence, again!" And this has been going on for so long, now--it will be eight years next March--that he has gradually gotten a particular sense of who I am. But now what he is sensing is me not my body. And he did love me as that little person...he has been remembering my face more, lately. But that is because I am impressing it on him, unawares. What he feels, I feel 10 times more keenly. He doesn't know. But here is the thing--any yearning he has, any longing, I feel it 10 times more keenly, and wish to fulfill it for him. So if he longs to see my face, I feel that 10 times more, and I find a way to comply with that wish.

You have to have faith. The whole thing runs on faith. But when people of your modern era talk about faith, there is the implicit assumption that "faith" means faith in something unreal. But it does not, dears. Faith means faith in something real, before you can see it. You have faith in various things all the time, or else you couldn't function in life. So if you study and study, and learn about the life after death, and realize that it is the same life that you have while physically in the body, and that life is one unbroken, continuous stream--but you can't see your loved one on this side--then you have faith that he or she is there. This faith now becomes your building-bridge. (Steve is struggling for the exact words.) Faith is the material from which you build your bridge. At the beginning, it is a strand, which could hardly hold a feather. But in the end, it will be a strong span which will hold your weight quite easily, and you can walk across it. Not to something imaginary, but to something which was there all-along, something quite real.

In order to become strong in faith, you have to exercise it, like a muscle. This is nothing new. You have to not see, in order to build faith. If you could see easily right away, there would be no opportunity to build faith. And you need faith in hard times; and you need faith to be strong enough to serve, someday, when you are called upon. When the wind blows, if you have faith, you will not be blown apart (meaning you two). So there must be this period when you are blind and groping, and going on faith. That is your opportunity to build strong faith, which will stand you in good stead when you must be heroic, together--because you will be given a charge. Maybe it will be a family; maybe it will be an organization, or a cause, or some other task.

So be blind--reach out with your inner senses, make them strong, and go on faith, until faith becomes sight.

I have rambled and preached enough for one evening!

Love to each and all,
Abby