The Angel Whispered

By Jean Barker

This is my story starting from when I was a child. My inner journey of learning and understanding how my spirituality began how, I am evolving and the traumas I have had to endure to get there. This is dedicated to my beautiful daughter Katie.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Jun 28, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466943995

Jean Barker

This is my first book I was compelled to write it as a way of healing myself. I have had a lot of traumas in my life as well as a lot of happiness, and I have used these experiences to help me gain a better perspective and view of the world around me. I believe I am a happy person, and I try not to let things phase me. Even in my darkest hours, I have found an inner strength to carry on. I now live in a pretty market town of Aylesbury with my husband, Steve, and my little jack russell dog Phoenix and also a couple of fish tanks to look after. The one thing I love is sitting in my lovely garden on my garden swing, closing my eyes and listening to the birds sing and feeling the warm sun on my face, finding my inner peace and tranquility. This is also a place that I can connect with my angels.

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Copyright 2012 Jean Barker.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Printed in the United States of America.

isbn: 978-1-4669-4398-8 (sc)

isbn: 978-1-4669-4400-8 (hc)

isbn: 978-1-4669-4399-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: PENDING

Trafford rev. 06/20/2012

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www.trafford.com

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Contents

The Beginning

What are Angels?

The Seven Heavens

Which Is Love

The First huge hurdle

The Archangels

Another hurdle

ANGELS AND ESSENTIAL OILS

Changes

Crystal children

Disappointments

Culture of Angels

Decisions

History of Angels

New Path

Channeling and Guides

A Dark Day

Spiritual care

The worst year so far

Acknowledgments

IN MEMORY OF MY BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER

KATHRYN DANIELLE

AN ANGEL IN OUR MIDSTS

1985-2011

The Angel Whispered

With love

Thank you to my Angels and all the Angels

here on this earth for your assistance

Jean Barker

The Beginning

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My life began in May 1960 in a small pretty mining village called Conisbrough in the county of South Yorkshire.

The house we lived in was a very small mid terraced house with a bright blue door and a white step that my mother used to kneel and clean it until it shone the house had the view of Conisbrough Castle.

My mum was a petite lady who always looked after herself and tried to look smart even when she was cleaning and my father was a tall thin man but broad and had very dark curly hair he wore glasses that were thick rimmed and black edged, He always enjoyed a few pints and a good laugh with his mates.

I was told it was a very hot spring sunny day when my mum went into labour with me; my father was not even around at the time probably he was at work or at the pub therefore my mother took herself to the Rose Hospital in Doncaster where she gave birth to me at 11.55 pm on a Sunday evening. I was told that my mother did not have an easy birth with me and was very weak afterwards.

When mum brought me home a week later, my father was waiting at the door with his hands outstretched he took me off her and told her to put the kettle on she brought her own bag in and my father sat with me on the settee and mum carried on as if she had not given birth to me after all she had the house hold chores to do.

I was the first born to my parents who had been trying to have a child for a long time, until I came along the marriage had been on a roller coaster, up and down so they thought that when I arrived the marriage would be saved and become better.

My mother had fostered many children and my father was a miner but my mother and father were down to earth people from very plain backgrounds but with very high morals.

So my life began . . .

My parents had very little money as my father always found an excuse not to go to work, he used to drink a lot quite heavily so my mum had to juggle very little money around work, household bills and look after me, also the other children that she fostered too but there was one thing the house was always spick and span that smelled of lilacs and polish.

My family were not very religious, my father used to say these Priests and Vicars should do a proper mans job and not tell us how to live our lives! so religion, politics and money were three forbidden subjects around the dinner table. I always knew I was different from the other children even from an early age as I used to play quite happily on my own,

(So my mother used to tell me), but I knew I was not alone I had a friend, her name was Mary and she used to be with me all the time.

She used to sit on my bed and she always wanted to play and talk to me, even when I didn’t see her I always knew she was with me.

My earliest memory of Mary was on a cold winter morning, I heard my mum crying in the kitchen not really understanding why. As I was only small at the time, and I remember lying down on the settee which was faded red brocade and it felt very scratchy and rough on my skin.

I was looking around the room at the range with the kettle steaming on it which was charred black and the hearth was blackened and shiny where my mum had polished It to make it look like a mirror, my eyes gazed up to the window seeing how high and narrow it was, which seemed to go on forever, the reflection of the cold sun was streaming through and reflecting on the rug and hearth. Mum had net curtains at half the window and it was steaming up because of the warmth of the house. I noticed in front of the hearth on the rug my mum had made out of different coloured rags there was a tabby cat that had a bald patch on his hind leg,

He was cleaning himself in front of the fire quite contented. He was a stray that my mum used to feed occasionally. a kind looking man came in, he was a tall thin man with a grey coloured suit with grey receding hair he also had round-rimmed glasses on, he had a soft velvety voice and a gentle kind smile, in his hand was a black weathered looking bag, he felt my head and started to talk to my mother. She was wringing her hands and had a worried look on her face. He got out of his bag a stethoscope and put it on my chest and was listening with a worried look on his face,

He came back later to see me and his tone to my mum had changed, he had told my mum that he wanted to see my father at the surgery, my mum told me that my father was down at the pub that day, it had been pay day and she had no money to get the medicine for me, as she was waiting for him to come home.

The kind man who was a doctor had come back to see if I had improved with the medicine, he took the prescription from my mother and paid for the medicine himself I had contracted a respiratory tract infection.

When he came back he gave me the medicine and said to my mother to tell my father that he wanted to see him at the surgery the next morning.

When my father came home my mother told him and he just shouted at my mother and slapped her face that was the first time I witnessed my mother getting hit by my father I remember crying and my father came to pick me up which I cried louder and my mother saying to him leave her you have frightened her he then hugged me and tried to comfort me.

My father never went to see the doctor the next day.

Mary sat with me on the settee; I noticed she had dark curly hair that fell in ringlets. This seemed to shine like a halo round her little face. Her eyes were of the palest blue she had a little rose bud mouth that was always smiling

I was not afraid of her I thought she was a friend who came to play with me. She said you will be alright Jeanie.

My father had hit my mother again a few weeks later for letting the electric man in to read the meter apparently my mother had previously left my father because the electric had been cut off and the Bailiffs had been and took some of my mum’s belongings as payment.

Mum said she wouldn’t go back to my father until he had sorted the electric out and paid the bill. He then promised my mother he would pay the bill and get it back on but unbeknown to my mother, my father had rewired the electric himself to the main electric wires outside the house so in fact we were getting the electric for free.

When he went to sort it out he told the electric company a lie, he said that I had been very sick and He had no choice but to do what he had done apparently he was so convincing that they believed him and did not charge him he was that good they even offered him a job!

This was the last straw for my mum . . . Of course I then went down with an illness.

Mum picked me up and had packed a bag and then she wrapped me in a blanket that had little blue and pink squares all over, it felt very soft and warm round my body we then proceeded to set off to go back to my Aunt Freda’s house.

I remember my mum often had tears in her eyes and she used to hug me so tight and whisper to me I will make sure you have a better life than this Jeanie.

Mum left me at my Aunt Freda and Uncle Joe’s and then went back to see my father. While I was at my aunts house I was playing in her yard which was lower down to the house next door, as the houses travelled up in tiers I was watching the little boy on the wall above me he had some sand in a bucket then it slipped and fell onto my face covering me.

My eyes started to sting and I screamed, Uncle Joe came rushing out with my mother who had just come back from seeing my dad, Aunt Freda and uncle Joe scooped me up in their arms put my head under the tap in the enamel sink and started to wash my face the next minute I was being rushed to hospital, the sand was building sand and it had lime in it, which could have blinded me.

It was burning my eyes and my throat, they cleaned my throat out and I had have my eyes cleaned out so they froze them and popped them out onto my cheeks, cleaned them and put them back! When I was growing up I used to panic if I saw anyone throwing sand about on the beach, To this day I can’t stand anyone throwing sand but Mary was there again and she kept saying you will be all right I promise. While all this was going on I could hear my mother crying this made me feel uneasy and frightened there always seemed to have voices raised shouting, screaming and things being thrown against the walls in those days.

My mother had answered a job for a live in housekeeper in Sheffield. Little did I know at the time she had been secretly planning to leave my father for good.

Mum was very upset at going not because of my father, but because she had to send the child she was looking after back to the children’s home.

My mum had got the job; the man my mum worked for was called Clive Gardner Stephenson. I noticed that he was a short dark haired man with a round tummy and had the softest brown kind looking eyes. He had a dark suit with a white shirt and a stripy tie and his shoes were very shiny!

He was sat behind a big wooden desk with lots of papers on it. I could smell polish and when I put my hands on the desk it felt very smooth and slippy under my touch.

A couple of days later my mum left my father for good and we fled to Sheffield.

When my mother divorced from my father, Mary was around me a lot during those dark times. But at least there was no shouting and my body stopped shaking.

As I settled down into a new life the days seemed to pass by very quickly, eventually my mother fell in love and married her boss Clive.

Mary told me that this man was a good man and she wasn’t wrong he was, he loved me as if I was his own child in fact he adopted me as his own daughter, as my own father didn’t even bother or want to see me I then started calling him daddy Clive.

Another chapter began with my new baby brother! My mum and daddy Clive decided to call my new brother Clive. This pleased my dad’s mum and Alan who was my dad’s older son. When mum introduced me to my brother I noticed his fat chubby feet and hands and he had a soft baby powder smell that permeated round the house.

These were happy days of my child hood and Mary still came to be with me.

When my brother was ready to go to school it was one of my jobs to take and bring him back to school with me. He started to get cheeky as he grew up and show off at times and we would end up squabbling and I always said I am going to tell my daddy on you! he then would say sorry and make me promise not to . . . sometimes I ignored him and still told mum.

But she used to ignore me and say I was telling fibs, as Clive was a good boy! I soon found out that mum was fonder of my brother than me.

Then Mary used to come to me when I was sad and in my ear she whispered don’t worry you have me and you will be ok.

To this day my mum finds something to criticise about me. She always relished saying OH you are so much like your father a bloody pain! this used to really hurt me as a child.

It brought resentment in me towards my brother at those times. I often felt lonely when mum was like that to me.

To the best of my knowledge I had never been to a church or inside one, so one Sunday my mother had got me dressed up in my very best clothes and my shiny shoes and told me we were to go to church with daddy Clive this was to be a turning point and the rules of life seemed to