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The Spirit of Angels
The Spirit of Angels
The Spirit of Angels
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The Spirit of Angels

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The Spirit of Angels is a great tool for the reader to learn how to connect with angels. Even if you do not believe in angels, the messages are very inspiring for most people, encouraging a knowledge that anything is possible.

Charlotte Quirk is a certified and licensed "Heal Your Life" leader, whose approach to healing is based upon the philosophy of renowned author Louise Hay. She is also a Therapeutic Touch teacher of the Kunz/Krieger method.

Charlotte is known to be a little Quirky with a wonderful sense of humour.
LanguageEnglish
PublishereBookIt.com
Release dateApr 26, 2016
ISBN9781456621100
The Spirit of Angels

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    The Spirit of Angels - Charlotte Quirk

    reader.

    Dedication

    In memory of my wonderful soul mate and beloved husband Derek whose ever-giving spirit gave me the resilience and strength to survive through tumultuous years, and all the happiness and joy that was humanly possible to receive.

    Gratitude

    I live in gratitude . . .

    For all that I have given

    And for all that I’ve received

    For the beauty in my life

    And for the sorrows I have known.

    For the challenges I’ve faced

    And for just how far I’ve come.

    For my courage and my gifts,

    And for the wisdom I’ve acquired.

    For the journey and experience

    And for the kindness on the way.

    For my dreams and my desires

    And for the trust that I have learned.

    For the joy and inspiration.

    And for my purpose, newly found.

    For miracles unfolding

    And for what tomorrow holds.

    For all the love I’ve ever known

    And for that I’ve yet to give.

    For abundance and simplicity

    And for the grace and opportunity.

    For the chance to make a difference

    And for the faith to know I will.

    D.D. Watkins

    Preface

    I had unknowingly held the seed of this book in my heart for a number of years. It began with journaling on my innermost thoughts long before my journeys of cancer. Wherever I travelled, I would take my journal with me. I would try and write daily, whenever and wherever possible. In the early hours of the morning, buried memories of my childhood would revive. I found that I could ask and receive daily messages with words which opened my heart and mind to an incredible, foreseeable hope that could be passed on to others, as though my unique life of events was meant to be written.

    I felt that I was being coached by an unknown source to teach future generations, and in turn to give some faith to the disbelievers. The morning messages would sometimes be answered instantly, or I would receive a sign or synchronicity within three days, three weeks or three months. I was amazed, unsure and uncertain of receiving this unusual phenomenon. But after awhile, it became the new normal in my life. The messages received were generally written quickly and instantly, almost to a scribble, because the words would stop as instantly as they were received. It reminded me of an old fashioned switchboard operator who had plugged into a connection of the messenger, to give to another, and then unplugged.

    This scribbling led me to a dilemma, as there were times when, I could not decipher my writing and would have to look to the dictionary for the words, as some messages were offered in an old English language. Some messages seem to have an ancient conversation. As the words did not make sense to me, I mentioned this dilemma to a like-minded friend. She suggested that I ask the source to simplify the messages. I smiled with amazement at this young friend’s answer, as she had the knowledge and wisdom of an old soul. As usual, her simple suggestion was right and it did solve my problem. I just asked the question the next day, and it was deciphered into the modern language. Messages became the key connection for the doors to open unbelievable changes. I am hoping, dear reader, that you will be inspired by this book to receive the incredible life that is naturally yours.

    Charlotte J. Quirk

    Chapter 1

    The Spirit of Family

    Angels are always here to listen and inspire.

    Charlotte J. Quirk

    I had learned at a very early age that it was a sign of weakness to cry. Because of this belief, I grew to become very resilient to pain and fear. In a way this was a blessing, as I knew and felt an unknown support of my life. At first it appeared like a tiny, distant fleck, waiting for me to recognize and acknowledge it. Then as more synchronicities happened in my life, it would become stronger, which gave me the trust and knowledge that I could move any obstacles that came before me. Not only did I receive information from an unknown source, I now believe that strength and resilience was passed down through the DNA of my ancestors. It is interesting to note that my family tree can be traced as far back as William the Conqueror’s niece. However, I believe my true admiration for strength and resilience started with my grandfather.

    Grandfather

    Although not too much was discussed and information was quite vague on Grandfather’s background, it was believed that he had run away to sea from St Wandville, France, and lived in Stafford, England. He married a nurse who gave birth to four boys and two girls. But sadly, his wife and two daughters contracted tuberculosis and died. This was a great loss for Grandfather, as he also contracted the dreadful disease, yet he was fortunate to recuperate with the assistance of an iron lung machine. His four boys were unscathed, which gave him the reason to live. Later on, he married the housekeeper who assisted in the care of these young boys, whilst he managed his farm. But misfortune followed him as the farm cattle contracted foot and mouth disease, when farmers didn’t carry insurance. So, over the years, he started to replenish the breed without any financial assistance.

    Later, a fire broke out which burned some of the farm buildings, and once again, he had to rebuild the farm for a foundation and legacy for his boys. As time went by, his boys matured and left the farm to start lives of their own. The youngest son chose to follow his father’s footsteps and also found a farm to work on. Grandfather gave him the gift of a working horse and two cows to begin the work of a three hundred acre farm. This young man married a Land Army girl, whom he had met when she assisted with the work during World War 2. On August 12th 1943, these two people welcomed me into the world, and as I grew older, I would stay with my grandparents in the summer to enable my parents to work at the harvest time.

    I was always apprehensive at going to see Grandma as she always had daily chores for me to do, whilst Grandfather was also busy working on the farm with the milking and field work. But he would set Sundays aside to clean the graveyard of his past wife and children, and occasionally, he would take me with him. Although there was no golf course, Grandfather would always take a golf club as we walked along the fields. He would practice his golf swing, and let me collect the ball for him. It would take a half hour to reach our destination. Although I was a young child, I was aware of the tears on Grandpa’s face as he removed the debris from the grave, but I would pretend that I did not notice, and chose to concentrate on cleaning around the graves of his two daughters. When the sad task was completed, he would stand up and silently pick up his cane and light a cigar. I would wait whilst he appeared to be reflecting on life. Then, without a word, he would turn back to the path of the graveyard, which gave me the indication that it was time to go home, back across the fields. On our return, we would always be greeted by Grandma who had prepared a hearty lunch for us to enjoy.

    My grandfather was a gentle man who taught me compassion, forgiveness and respect. He taught me how to put sadness aside, and even in the worst scenario, enjoy life and have hope every day.

    Grandfather, Grandmother Anne, father and his brothers

    Grandmother

    Step-grandmother Sarah

    Charlotte and Grandma Sarah

    My step-grandmother, who was known to me as Grandma was a very strong, forthright lady. When I stayed on the farm, I was always greeted by the aroma of the daily hearty breakfast of fresh bacon, eggs and toast, which we tucked into each morning to prepare us for the daily farm chores. Every day Grandma would wear a wraparound apron on top of her clothes, so she could approach any work that was before her. But, on Sunday mornings, she would

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