Beyond Yourself: A Spiritual Awakening

By Angela Crow

This book is my story of how God brought good out of a very bad situation in my life and brought me back from a dark path, into His marvelous light. He saved me from myself, an abusive relationship, and so much more. This book should come with a warning label to the people in my life who had no clue about the secret life I was living before I became a Christ follower. My life as a Christ follower began in 2013 after a life-changing year of tragedy and heartbreak, not to mention a few broken bones and losing both parents only six days apart. I firmly believe God saved me for a reason and that He has a purpose and plan for my life. He showed me a different path than I had ever traveled before. Once I realized how to be still, listen to God, and allow the Holy Spirit to work in my life, I found my purpose in writing the messages He gives me, and I enjoy sharing them to encourage others and lead them to Christ. He used a horrible year to change my life forever. I felt compelled to write this book not only for my own healing, but if even one person who reads it is touched, inspired, or encouraged in some way, it is worth it. I find it very ironic that God has me revealing the things I hid for so long. My life is not my own. I was purchased with His blood. I believe it is my duty to respect my body, guard my heart, and put on the whole armor of God every day as I surrender myself to Him in every way. As a faithful servant of Christ, I am humbled and grateful for His grace and forgiveness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9781645156260

Book preview

Up in Smoke

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

With the stroke of midnight fast approaching, my sister Donna and I scrambled through the car to find a small scrap of paper, to jot down our letters to the karmic board to usher in the New Year. My two-minute crash course left my mind burning with questions, my only warning Be careful what you ask for. She recalled a previous year when she asked for patience and didn’t get anything she wanted all year.

It was a damp and dreary night, but the blaze from the huge brush fire warmed my skin. I trudged through the mud, in my gum boots, to send it up in smoke and hope for the best. She carefully wrote out her letter and sent it up, just as she faithfully did every year.

What if I asked for the wrong things? My every waking thought and every fiber in my body was consumed with the heartbreak from a recent breakup with the man I had lived with for nearly four years. I was holding on with both hands, for dear life, to the hope that we would reconcile. It couldn’t hurt to ask for help with my relationship, could it? I didn’t keep a copy of it, so I can’t tell you exactly what I wrote. But looking back on what transpired in the year ahead, I must have written something horribly wrong, or did I?

What a Trip

A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.

—Proverbs 17:22

Ihad already forgotten about my letter by mid-February. I was walking the dog early one morning before work. Maybe she was walking me; I was just trying to keep up. It took no more than a slight rise in the sidewalk to change my plans for the day. I tripped, and it sent me crashing to the ground. Alley hovered over me and licked my face with a sense of concern. Oh crap, this is bad, I thought almost out loud. I managed to stand up and assess the damage. The usually short distance to the house seemed a lot longer. I hobbled down the sidewalk in the dark and tried to convince myself it wasn’t that bad. But, the pain told me otherwise. It became so unbearable it made me sick to my stomach. I thought I could shower and go work before calling the doctor. But I was wrong again. I knew I had no choice but to wake up my son to take me to the emergency room. Two fractures of the right humerus bone. It didn’t seem all that funny to me. With my dominant arm in a sling, I was forced to become a lefty. I learned to dress myself with one hand, among other interesting tasks. Two other things I learned: Don’t run with the dog, don’t run on the sidewalk—not both at the same time.

My Journey to the Mountain and Beyond

In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps.

—Proverbs 16:9

It was my last day of physical therapy and my therapist, Bethany, gave me a hug and we said our goodbyes. She became someone I could confide in. The next day, I boarded a plane to Mt. Shasta, California, to visit my sister Barbara. I had only seen her once in the last twenty-five years. She had changed her name to Amorah, disowned our family, and moved to California, where she became a self-proclaimed seer, healer, and author. Three years earlier, she came to see me, an hour from where we grew up. At the restaurant, she sipped on her Arnold Palmer and looked across the table. I urged her to go see our mother: Mom isn’t well. If you have even the slightest inkling you want to see her, you need to do it. But she had already made up her mind. She was just as stubborn as Mom. She had been trying to get me to visit her in Mt. Shasta. As I was single for the first time in a while, it seemed like a good idea. It would be the first trip of this nature I had taken alone.

She had a trip to Japan scheduled for late May to promote her latest book and told me I could come early June. So, I made my flight arrangements. After what felt like an eternity of airports and changeovers, I arrived in Medford, Oregon, late on a Saturday night and was greeted by Amorah (Barbara), in her burnt-orange Mitsubishi Eclipse. I noticed a huge dent in the passenger-side door but didn’t ask. At sixty-two, she had now-gray hair hanging down past her shoulders. Her difficulty walking and poor eyesight was an indication of her failing health. She pulled away from the airport and drove to a nearby diner, just a short distance from the airport after I informed her I was starving. She dropped the keys in the console and proceeded inside without locking the car. I ate my sandwich as she told me her plans for the week ahead.

What kind of movies do you like? she asked. I thought we could go to a movie one night. She continued, I would like to have my friends over for a potluck dinner to introduce you to them.

She knew I was hoping to see the redwoods, so she had also made plans for that.

We can stay at a bed and breakfast in the area near the redwoods the night before you go back.

After I finished eating my midnight snack, she asked if I would mind driving the rest of the way to her house, about an hour away.

I am still feeling the jet lag from my trip to Japan, she admitted.

I climbed behind the wheel, grabbed the keys, adjusted the mirrors, and we were off. I maneuvered the strange roads in the darkness. We chatted about desserts and the speed limit being higher than what I was driving. I was a little nervous and just tried to maintain my current speed and keep my eyes on the road.

Sweetie, the speed limit is seventy on this road, she urged.

I could only imagine the mountain in the distance; a shroud of darkness hung over it like a blanket. Exhausted and ready to settle down, I was given my sleeping options: a room off the kitchen with a futon or the guest bedroom across the hall from her room. For me there was no choice. A very inviting, comfy bed was calling my name. She allowed this choice only after I was instructed how to open and close a door quietly and was told I couldn’t flush the toilet during the night because it might wake her. Being an early bird, with a three-hour time difference, I woke up way too early. I headed out for my morning run. But I was quiet as a mouse, tiptoeing outside, carrying my shoes. I took extra caution when I opened the bedroom door, just as I was instructed. When I sat on the front step and laced my shoes, I saw my surroundings for the first time, in the morning light. The dawn rose over the snow-capped mountain peaks, a canvas of early morning colors revealed. I ran out the gravel lane that meandered around the front of her house. Careful not to go out too far on the strange roads, I circled back. The magnificent hues urged me to grab my camera. The sun warmed my skin, like a comforting blanket. I sat quietly on the back deck, eating a banana I found in the kitchen which barely appeased my growling stomach. Deer grazed in the distance, and I sent an occasional photo of the towering mountain to friends and family while waiting for my sister to wake. By the time she got up, my banana had worn off. I saw her faint image through the sliding glass doors and quickly went inside. She poured vitamins from their bottles and downed them like candy. Still in her nightgown, she apologized for sleeping so late and assured me her jet lag was much better.

I’ll shorten my daily meditation and jump in the shower, so we can go to brunch by noon and drive up the mountain, she said apologetically.

At the Cornerstone Café, a slender, brown-haired waitress who seemed to know Amorah very well asked if she wanted her usual eggs Benedict. Intrigued by the description, I decided to give them a try. What mouthwatering flavors! The mild appearance of the opaque sauce enlightened my taste buds with a surprising rich, buttery flavor and a hint of tangy lemon juice. I couldn’t decide if I was eating the best breakfast I had ever had, or I was just famished—maybe both. With that said, even the smell of them turns me off to this day. But I am jumping ahead of myself.

We chatted about relationships, mostly mine and the fact it was ending. Other topics were recipes, food, and jewelry. I admired what I call a chocolate diamond fitting snugly on her ring finger, when she held it up for me to examine. I had my eye on them when I was in my last relationship, falsely hoping to receive one someday. After breakfast, we walked to a gift shop owned by Amorah (or technically her church).

I made a quick glance around the small shop, admiring the crystals and jewelry. I saw her assistant, an average-size woman with warm brown hair and a friendly smile, sitting in the back of the little shop; her voice broke the silence as she greeted us. I overheard them talking about store business and a meditation scheduled for later that day. When Amorah saw me pick up a pair of blue heart-shaped earrings, she told me I could have them. I looked around for something I could buy, when I spotted a pendulum. The small amethyst stone caught my eye. Intrigued by its design, I quickly made my purchase and went to find a T-shirt store. A sweatshirt was more my speed. She told me there was a store across the street that would have a huge selection of local shirts. We could walk over when she finished the phone calls to invite her friends to the potluck. It sounded more like a boss barking orders than an invitation. I shrank in embarrassment, as she instructed them to bring large portions of the main course and she would be making a dessert.

I won’t take long. I know the mountain is calling us, I recall saying when we crossed the street.

She sat down on a stool near the cash register. She chatted with the girl behind the counter while I picked out just the right one: a warm grayish color with white fabric lettering that read Mount Shasta, with those little slots in the sleeves for my thumbs. Satisfied with my purchase and full stomach, we headed to the car. On our drive, I remember asking her how she came up with the name Amorah. I don’t remember all the details of her answer. But I do remember the distracting sound of the beeping seat-belt warning, indicating she hadn’t fastened her belt. We stopped in front of a house she was interested in buying. She asked me how much homes were going for back home. We drove away, passing a side road she pointed out, saying I could borrow her car and come back if I wanted to go hiking. The car came to a halt at the side of the road. She put the convertible top down and her hair up, offering me one of the stretchy bands she kept on the gearshift knob. Just before approaching the turnoff for the mountain, the car slowed to another stop and the beeping seat-belt alarm was replaced with a quick clip, as she explained, "It’s just not in my nature to wear these