Crossing the Threshold | Based on a True Story A Healer Revealed
Hansen Highland
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Add to basketSold by preigu, Osnabrück, Germany
AbeBooks Seller since 5 August 2024
Condition: New
Quantity: 5 available
Add to basketCrossing the Threshold | Based on a True Story A Healer Revealed | Hansen Highland | Taschenbuch | Kartoniert / Broschiert | Englisch | 2017 | Balboa Press | EAN 9781504372022 | Verantwortliche Person für die EU: Libri GmbH, Europaallee 1, 36244 Bad Hersfeld, gpsr[at]libri[dot]de | Anbieter: preigu Print on Demand.
Seller Inventory # 108348042
Crossing the Threshold, A Healer Revealed, is based upon a True Story.
Embarking on an adventure of a lifetime, Elizabeth Warren is drawn into the depths of living a double life. Her process of becoming an energy healer rocks her world and those around her. Once, a predictable wife, mother and business owner. Traditional down to her very core.
But as time goes by, her mentor and Guru by her side, teaching and encouraging her natural abilities to talk to spirits and heal.
This is a story of nearly insurmountable obstacles thrown in her path.
Allowing fear to navigate and the need for other’s approval, Liz cloaks herself in secrecy. Nearly losing her husband, children and her sanity, until her worlds
collide.
Torn between the beauty of healing and her old life, Elizabeth is forced to face her destiny. A journey that becomes a discovery of the treasure found within.
October 2001
Today was Elizabeth's birthday; she was turning thirty-nine. That morning, she gave herself a glance in the mirror. Not too bad. Not great either. She was five feet six and had shoulder-length light-brown hair, hazel eyes, long legs, and the one thing she had always been grateful for: her youthful-looking skin. Not a wrinkle was to be found. Her mother had taught her long ago to take care of her skin. "You'll be carrying that face around everywhere you go," her mother had always stressed.
Finishing the last of her makeup, she checked the clock again and realized she'd be late for her birthday massage. She grabbed her purse and headed out the door.
Amanda, her massage therapist, had moved again — this time to Half Moon Bay — to join a new business. Even though this was twenty minutes farther away, Amanda was good at what she did, so Elizabeth followed. The shop was called Blessings. It was a holistic healing center — a three-bedroom, two-bathroom house that had been converted to a business, complete with two massage therapists, one chiropractor, one marriage counselor, and a medium. There were home items for purchase as well — statues, altar cloths, incense, essential oils, dream catchers, crystals, and books and prints of all the favorite shamans, gurus, and saints. The place had a veritable plethora of healing, as any well-stocked holistic center should. Plus it was located in the main part of town, so it was easy to get to and was right near the beach.
Always up for a new experience, Elizabeth drove the extra twenty minutes. She located Blessings and parked in the back, just in case someone should recognize her car. She was going there to see Amanda for a massage, not for all that other weird stuff. I am a Catholic after all, she thought.
When she opened the door to the shop, Elizabeth immediately felt at home. It felt peaceful here. That was a nice surprise. She had been expecting maybe a sense of uneasy weirdness with all the witchy paraphernalia.
Amanda came to greet her right by the front desk. "Hey, Elizabeth, you made it! It's good to see you. Hope the traffic wasn't too bad. It can get tricky around here." Amanda gave Elizabeth a hug, patting her on the back.
"Wow, Amanda, this is crazy! I've never been to a holistic place before. Look at all this stuff! Do you have books for casting spells? I'd like to get rid of that crazy redhead neighbor across the street."
Amanda laughed. She had heard about "the Red Cow" and the woman's obsession of watching Elizabeth and her family. It was creepy.
"Well, I can introduce you to the owner, Carla. She knows her stock pretty well." Amanda turned to the woman sitting behind the front desk. "Carla, I'd like to introduce Elizabeth. She's one of my oldest and favorite clients. Elizabeth, this is Carla."
Carla and Elizabeth said "hi" in unison. Carla then extended her hand across the front desk and said, "Welcome. It's nice to meet you. If there's anything I can help you with, just let me know. We actually do carry a couple of books on spells. We only support the white craft, though, for healing and such. Nothing for the dark. Not ever."
Elizabeth replied, "Oh, I was teasing. I just came for a massage."
Carla gave her a once-over and then just smiled.
After Elizabeth settled in, she and Amanda caught up on the latest gossip about the people at the spa where Amanda used to work. They talked about Elizabeth's family, her husband and her kids. The conversation came full circle to Blessings.
"So what's it like working here?" Elizabeth asked. "Is it a huge difference from the spa?"
"Yeah, I guess so," Amanda replied. "The clients are a little more laidback. It's a beach town, so the atmosphere is sort of like Santa Cruz. I really like the people here, especially the medium, Emily. Elizabeth, she's amazing! You have to meet her. I think she's here today."
"Well, I don't know. Maybe."
After the massage, Elizabeth went to check out some of the books on display and maybe find something to ward off creepy, nosy neighbors. Carla was still behind the desk, looking over the latest Psychology Today issue, when Elizabeth entered the front room. She smiled and went back to reading. Ah, she must be the marriage counselor, Elizabeth thought. Hmmm. She meandered through books on saints and gurus and then moved on to the essential oils and various sprays for protection, chakra clearing, and even attuning with the angels. She picked up a bottle with a dropper and thought, Not sure what you'd do with that.
"Elizabeth, there you are. See anything you'd like?" Amanda stood beside a very pretty blonde with bright-green eyes. "This is Emily, the medium I was telling you about."
Emily was a straightforward, no-nonsense woman who stood about five feet eight inches tall. Her sweet, angelic face and the twinkle in her eyes made people feel comfortable around her. Even as she told people about their dead relatives, friends, or pets, still no one was truly afraid. Not really.
"Hi, I'm Emily Gordon. So you're a friend of Amanda's?"
"Yes, we're friends. I've been a client of hers for six years or so. She's a great massage therapist!"
Amanda smiled. "You're too sweet, Liz. Thank you. Look, girls, I gotta go. I'd love to stay and chat, but I have another client coming in a few minutes. I'll see you in a couple of weeks, Liz."
Emily waved good-bye as Amanda headed back to her massage studio.
Emily smiled and turned back to Elizabeth. "She is great! She's done wonders on my lower back. I work full-time as a nurse and part-time as a medium. So I'm on my feet all day, and my back is throbbing sometimes."
They chatted for a little longer about Amanda and Blessings.
"I hope sometime you can come in for a reading," Emily said as they were about to part. "You might really enjoy it. It was a pleasure to meet you!"
"And you as well," Elizabeth said. "I just might take you up on the reading."
They shook hands and said good-bye.
And so it began. Elizabeth purchased the lavender essential oil, bought a small print with a picture of Jesus on it, and booked a reading with Emily. It all happened so fast that, as she drove home, she decided maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. She had never been a staunch Catholic exactly, but her family went to church. Heck, Elizabeth went to eight-thirty morning mass at St. Matthew's two, three times week. She was one of the youngest regulars there. Oh, for heaven's sake, this isn't a big deal. Get a hold of yourself, woman! One reading, ask her some questions about a couple of long-passed relatives, and I'll be on my way. Unbeknownst to Jack, of course. Her husband was such a freak about the paranormal. He couldn't even watch scary movies. He watched plenty of pornos, though. But then, so did Elizabeth. She couldn't throw stones there.
As Elizabeth pulled into her driveway, she decided she was looking forward to meeting with Emily. She planned to ask about her father. Over the years, she had tried to forgive her father for not being around most of her childhood. She had barely seen him, especially after he and her mother had divorced. As a sea captain, his job had taken him all over the world. Elizabeth had grappled with abandonment issues for years.
Then there was her brother Harry, who had passed a long time ago. Such a sad story. Maybe that should be better left alone.
Elizabeth made a quick stop at the grocery store and then headed home. The garage door opened, and she drove her car inside. She had only an hour before it was time to pick up the kids. She put the groceries away as quickly as possible. Then she ran down three flights of stairs to put yet another load of laundry in. She was amazed at how stinky her son could get his gym shorts. "Good God, what the hell does he do to these things?" she asked herself aloud. Never mind, she then thought. He was a teenager, and she really didn't want to know. More detergent for this load.
The next forty minutes were filled with returning phone calls, checking e-mails, and picking up her three children's crap left around the house. Then she made a mental note about working a hot-lunch shift at the middle school the next day because one of the other moms had a dentist appointment.
Finally, Elizabeth made her way out the front door and jumped in the Suburban, a.k.a. "the Beast." The nine-passenger SUV was almost always filled to capacity, holding her kids and almost everyone else's in Burlingame. Elizabeth didn't mind, though. She really did like the kids and enjoyed helping out with the pickups and drop-offs. Just part of the unglorified mom job.
First stop, the elementary school to pick up her youngest, Molly. At eight years old, Molly was starting to become a real beauty. She had long brown hair that was always flying behind her at some soccer or softball game and huge brown eyes that were forever taking in what her older brother and sister were doing. Those brown eyes held a deep connection to animals, and Elizabeth would bet big money they held a connection to angels too.
Then on to the middle school for Justin, the sweetest thirteen-year-old you'd ever meet. Tall and shy, he was the best negotiator in the family, "the Lawyer." He could argue valid reasons why he should get that five-dollar allowance raise, and, his gray eyes full of mirth, he usually got it. He was charm personified and well on his way to becoming a wonderful young man.
Last stop was the high school. This was always a challenge. Elizabeth had to navigate the parking lot and students talking on their cell phones trying to look cool and impressive. Then there were the students with driver's licenses who drove like bats out of hell trying to get out of the parking lot. Lately, it had gotten to be so stressful that Elizabeth had asked her eldest daughter, Charlotte, to walk down the street a bit to be picked up at the corner. Charlotte was pretty good about that. She never complained about much. Being the oldest at sixteen, she was responsible, beautiful, and a great student. Usually, Charlotte drove, trying to get practice in for her driver's license. Today Elizabeth felt the traffic was too much for a student driver, though.
"Mom, why can't I drive back home? I need the practice!" Charlotte said, her big blue eyes flashing. Her friends were nearby, and she probably wanted to show them she was driving.
"Look, Char, let's just get home in one piece right now. I can't believe they give licenses to some of these kids! Is that Andrew from up the street? Oh my God, he's driving his mom's Mercedes?" Elizabeth shook her head. Charlotte waved.
The Warren home was poetry in motion. It was life. The home bulged with five people, three cats, a dog named Lucy, and a goldfish named Fred. Fred lived in the fountain near the front door. Marie, another goldfish, had lived there with him, but one day she'd just jumped out. She must have had enough of Fred.
Elizabeth and Jack had spent many years remodeling this house to make it their refuge from the real world, a place to raise their family. It was a beautiful Mediterranean house with five bedrooms, four bathrooms, a gorgeous granite and stainless steel kitchen, and a wine cellar. It was a dream home that they had built together. It had been a happy home for many years ... until things had begun to change. After seventeen years of marriage, the foundation had shifted.
At last, the week had sped by, and Elizabeth was heading over to the coast for her reading with Emily. As she wound her way along Highway 92, she enjoyed the farmlands full of flowers, vegetables, and Half Moon Bay's specialty — pumpkins. Every year, there was a huge pumpkin weigh-off. People from all over the Bay Area came to compete. It was quite an honor to win not only the prize money but also the recognition in the agriculture community for having the heaviest pumpkin of all. Some pumpkins were as large as 1,600 pounds! Thank God the contest was a few weeks away, as 92 would be jam-packed with cars then, all jockeying to stop off at one of the many pumpkin patches to pick the most perfect pumpkin. Some farms had pony rides; others had hayrides. And this year someone had come up with the idea of an elephant ride! Real elephants in Half Moon Bay? Who would have ever thought of that? Boy, times had changed since Elizabeth's kids were little. In preschool each of her kids had gone on a class field trip to a pumpkin patch where the highlights had been having a picnic lunch and picking out a pumpkin.
Elizabeth always looked forward to this drive. Not only was the drive beautiful, but this highway led directly to the many beaches on Highway One and the Pacific Ocean. Oftentimes, when she had been young, her family had gone to Saint Francis Beach for days of sun, white sand, and picnics. Her mom had always made the best turkey sandwiches. Her mouth watered just thinking of that first bite, the turkey so moist and the rolls so fresh, but why had there always been sand in them? That crunch, crunch sound had always given her goose bumps, but she'd eaten the sandwiches anyway. She remembered she would add Doritos to hers; then she didn't notice the sand so much.
Elizabeth's attention pulled back to the present. She was both excited and nervous for this reading. What if Emily told her things she really didn't want to know? Was Emily really able to speak with the dead? What if this was just a waste of seventy dollars? Well, I'll soon find out, she thought as she drove to the back parking lot of Blessings.
Emily was waiting near the front desk when Elizabeth entered the shop. Carla, the owner/marriage counselor, was again sitting behind the desk. This time she was on the phone. She waved to Elizabeth.
Emily walked over and greeted Elizabeth. "Hi, Elizabeth, welcome back! It's nice to see you again." Emily opened hers arms for a hug.
Awkwardly, Elizabeth hugged her back. "Hey, Emily, nice to see you."
"Let's head back to my office, and we'll get started." Emily led the way down a small corridor that had three rooms. It was quiet, except for the clicking of Elizabeth's high-heeled shoes on the hardwood floor. Elizabeth again noticed a feeling of peace as she followed the medium. This calmed her anxiety.
As Emily opened the door to her office, Elizabeth looked in and smiled. No shrunken heads or voodoo dolls with pins sticking out of them. That's good, Elizabeth thought. But where is the crystal ball? There was nothing strange here. The office was not very large. Two white wicker chairs faced each other, and a small circular white wicker table sat between the chairs with a box of Kleenex on it. There were a couple of watercolors of ... were those dolphins? One very large Boston fern sat in the corner by the window. Wait a minute! There was a massage table over against the wall that had a bedspread of some sort and a small flowered covered pillow on top of it. What was that for? Emily motioned for Elizabeth to sit in one of the two chairs.
"So have you been to a medium before?" Emily asked with kind eyes and a warm smile.
"Well, not really. I mean, actually once, but it wasn't a very good experience. My girlfriends and I were out celebrating my birthday, and, um, we'd all had quite a few glasses of wine. One thing led to another, and on a dare we went to this psychic nearby." Warmth rose up in Elizabeth's body, turning her face red. It was a trait she hated because it always made it obvious when she was embarrassed. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I'm not going to reveal much more to this lady, Elizabeth thought. Let's see what she can tell me.
The afternoon light was coming through the blinds; it made long, faint bars on the hardwood floor. As Elizabeth looked at the floor, Emily said, "It's been my experience that with some readings clients hear what they're meant to hear, not what they were hoping for."
Emily continued, "So I probably should tell you a little bit about myself. Since I was young, I've always seemed to know things. At first I didn't realize that it was my intuition, but as I grew older, I started to understand. I am guided by the messages that come to me from angels and guides and also, of course, the dead. These messages can come through as voices or visions, and sometimes it's just plain old intuition, where I just know and feel an angel's presence."
Elizabeth sat enraptured, yet she had a healthy dose of skepticism. After all, she had attended Catholic schools all her life, and just five years ago she'd graduated from a private Catholic college. Her religion usually discounted people like this. I wonder what Sister Pat would say if she could see me now, Elizabeth thought with a smile.
Being curious, Elizabeth asked, "Do you consider yourself a Christian?"
"Absolutely!" Emily replied.
Excerpted from Crossing the Threshold by Hansen Highland. Copyright © 2017 Hansen Highland. Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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