Life After Death by God's Hands

By Rosalia Rushton

Throughout my life, I have often wondered, What is the most important? What matters most in life, and what makes a life worth living? Faith has been the answer to every question I have ever had.

In the early fall of 1979, while walking through the streets of Santiago, Chile, I stopped in front of a young street vendor and purchased a small book, El Diario de Mi Vida. In the years that followed, I returned to that diary often, filling the new pages and rereading the past, always staring at the first line: "What has motivated me to write in this diary is the countless times I have seen God's presence in my life." This is a true story of my life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781649527615

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Life After Death by God's Hands

Rosalia Rushton

Copyright © 2021 Rosalia Rushton

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books, Inc.

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2021

ISBN 978-1-64952-760-8 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64952-761-5 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Santiago, Chile

A Beacon in the Night

The Grotto

Pathways of the Mind: Transcendental Meditation

The Conscious, Subconscious, and Unconscious Mind

Premonitions

The Car Accident when I Died

The Interview After

My Sister Returns Home

A True Love Story

A Move in the Making

My Life in the United States

The Family I Left Behind

When I Met My Husband

My Sisters and My Predictions

My Intuition at Work

The Gold Aura

My Accident on the Beach

A Message from God

How I Helped in a Lung Transplant

Acknowledgments

In February of 2020, I was driving down the road when I received a message from above saying, Now, it is time for you to write a book. My immediate thought was, Oh, my God, never in my entire life have I thought about writing a book; however, the message was very precise and very clear. When I got home, I mentioned it to my husband, and he immediately gave me his full support, so on February 24, I sat down and began writing.

I would like to thank God for all the experiences I have had and for giving me a glimpse of what waits for us beyond this world. What a beautiful place it is! Thank you for showing me a little bit of heaven.

I would like to thank the following people, without whom this book would not have been possible:

My husband, Brett, for believing in God’s presence in my life and being such an understanding, loving person and best friend. Without his support, it would not have been possible to write this book, and I’m very grateful that he agreed to be my editor.

My mother and father, for your love and all the lessons learned and for always guiding me to be a good human being.

My sisters and my brother, for accompanying me on the journey that became my life. Special thanks to my sisters for all that I have learned from you and for the inspiration to write this book.

My brother Claudio, for his support and understanding when I had the car accident. Thank you for conducting the interview about the experience I had when I died and traveled to heaven.

My nieces and nephews and their families, for the love and happy times you have given me.

My cousins and their families, for making it possible to have two wonderful family reunions.

Brett’s family, for being so respectful and such good people and good Christians.

My friend and mother-in-law Jean, for her love and friendship and for welcoming me into her family from the start.

My friend Mary, who has been kind and sweet to me since the day we met almost forty years ago, for her friendship, her family, and our adventures together.

My friends who have departed this life and journeyed beyond, for being my guardian angels on earth and helping me through all the tough times.

Finally, I would like to acknowledge and thank all my family, friends, coworkers, and acquaintances I have met for sharing their lives with me—the good and bad times, the problems and concerns—for asking for advice and for giving advice, and for trusting my guidance, intuition, and predictions. Thanks to all the people who have allowed me to touch their lives in one way or another and for those who have invited me in when I could be of help. Your gift to me was special; you provided me with the spiritual growth to become a better version of myself.

Preface

It was in April, the beginning of fall in Chile, and I remember going out for a walk but not why. Santiago was my home, and I knew the streets well enough that I could head in any direction without fear of getting lost, so I ignored the street signs and made turns at random.

I passed the many street vendors, respectfully slowing down to look at their merchandise, but with no intention of buying anything. Around the corner on the left, there was a young woman sitting on the ground who greeted me kindly and, having caught my eye, motioned to her small assortment of used books and magazines arranged on a blanket. I stopped and looked down, searching for something—anything—that I could purchase from her, and there it was: El Diario de Mi Vida. I don’t even remember asking the price.

It was April 16, 1979, when I made my first entry, and over the years, I wrote in my diary often. Now, many years later, when thinking about writing this book, I went back to the diary and opened it, hoping that it would show me a way to begin. And there, written on the very first line, it read, What has motivated me to write in this diary is the countless times I have seen God’s presence in my life.

Part One

Santiago, Chile

I was born in Santiago, Chile, to a middle-class family. My mother and my father were Catholic. I was the second oldest of five children—four girls and a boy—and my father struggled to support the family, while my mother struggled to raise us. My mother could not go out to work because of taking care of us; even if she would have had the time, there were always too few jobs in Chile, and money was scarce. My father was a freelance businessman, always engaged in some small enterprise but always dreaming big. Every business that he started began with great promise and optimism, and he saw himself one day becoming a great businessman in charge of a large portfolio. My father was like so many of the other men of his generation in Chile, envisioning greatness but blocked by economic reality or, occasionally, just plain bad luck, and for my father, there was no consolation in simply working hard and trying his best.

Despite the difficult economic situation we had, my siblings and I never gave up on school. My father saw in my oldest sister a great potential to learn languages and paid for English courses for her, but those were the only courses he could afford. He sent the rest of us to school, but when the time came to go to college, he did not have the money to send us.

All of us found one way or another to continue pursuing a higher education. My older sister Myriam was gifted in languages and studied English, Portuguese, and French. My brother Claudio got a scholarship to college and earned a degree in electrical engineering, and as for myself, I studied to be an executive secretary. I studied languages such as Portuguese and English and anything related to business administration. My younger sister Cecilia studied foreign trade and procurement as well as English, and the youngest sister Vilma studied English, banking, and finance.

Shortly after I finished high school, my parents divorced, and the family was split up. My brother was very close to my father and decided to live with him because he was studying engineering at that time, and my father’s apartment was closer to the university. And even though he loved us dearly, it was no doubt beneficial for my brother and his studies to not live in a small house with his mother and three very talkative sisters.

After the divorce, my father remarried, and later on, he and his wife welcomed a beautiful baby girl, Roxana, who is my other youngest sister.

In 1972, my older sister decided to travel to Brazil to look for a job, with the intention of saving up enough money to find a house for my mom in Chile. For my mom, raising her five children had been her life’s work and sole dedication, but unfortunately, it is not the kind of work that earns a pension. At the time of the divorce, there were few material assets to split, so she ended up with very little.

In Brazil, my sister was able to find work and eventually was able to save enough money to put a down payment on a house for our mom. I was in charge of finding the house, so I began an extensive search for the perfect house for the family. I knew that it would be hard to find a house that would satisfy everyone and yet still be affordable, so I was always looking at houses and checking neighborhoods and prices. If there was such a thing as a small house perfect for all of us, I was going to find it.

The time came when I did find a house, not large but nice, not perfect but the best option. I moved in with my mom and my younger sisters, and it was a new beginning in our lives. I will never forget seeing my mom so happy when we moved into the new house. She said that she had been born again and had a new life.

It was a joint effort between my oldest sister and me; she would supply the down payment on the house and pay the mortgage, and with my salary, I would have to take care of the expenses, bills, food, medical bills, and school fees for my two younger sisters. As much as we could, we now provided for the family.

My mom Adriana was a wonderful mother who raised us with principles, took us to church on Sunday, protected us, gave us everything that she possibly could, loved us with all her heart, and gave us her full support. Over the years, all her children have been good to her, always staying in touch with her and visiting her or calling her, and we love her dearly. She is ninety-seven years old now; when she was younger, she had the ability to write poetry, and I still keep the poem that she wrote for me in 1984.

I started working to support my family and finance my studies after graduating from high school. In the beginning, I wanted to study chemistry and pharmacy, but when I talked to my father and told him that I have been accepted at the University of Chile, he was sorry that he did not have the money to pay for college. I have to admit that after speaking with my dad, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to study anymore, if anything. I was disoriented and confused, and I said to myself, Now that I cannot study what I want, I will have to find a career that I can be good at and enjoy my work in the future.

I took a career aptitude test offered by one of the Chilean universities, which was one of the best things I ever did, because the test showed that almost 90 percent of my abilities were skills geared toward working in an office or at an administrative position. That was huge for me; then, I knew what I was going to study. I graduated from high school in December of 1969 and started looking for a job right away, not only to live on but also to finance my school. I ended up studying at the AIEP Professional Institute in Santiago, which was also known as the Center for Technical Development.

On March 30, 1971, I graduated as an executive secretary and could begin looking for a job in an office. Looking back, I remember being exhausted and needing a break after so much studying and work, so I decided to go to El Tabito. It was one of the smaller beaches in Chile—not too far from Santiago—a little more than two hours. I invited my family to come and spend a nice weekend together by the ocean.

El Tabito was a development of sixty cottages by the water and at the time was in the process of being sold as a cooperative/company. The property manager—and owner of a great deal of stock in the company—was there at the time of our arrival. He introduced himself as Jorge Diaz, gave us the key to our cottage, and had the suitcases delivered. As soon as they had changed their clothes, my family went to the beach; the day was perfect, beautiful, sunny, and hot. I stayed behind, and Mr. Diaz started a conversation with me—a long conversation—asking me what I studied, where I lived, and what I hoped for in the future. At the beginning of our conversation, I felt a little disappointed talking to him instead of enjoying the day at the beach with my family and curious about his interest. Mr. Diaz was a mature guy with a family and must have been pushing fifty, while I was only twenty-one years old at that time; I knew of very few adults who had more than a passing interest in my future plans or career goals. Nowhere in my thoughts could I have guessed that Mr. Diaz was interviewing me for a job.

After our long talk, Mr. Diaz offered me a position to work with him managing this development of cottages by the beach, and best of all, I could stay in Santiago and work from there. I’m sure the shock on my face must have been