The Cards

The Cards

After the necklace came to me, nothing was ever the same.

Time, as I had known it, dissolved.

Days no longer moved in sequence. They pulsed. I was no longer living in a calendar — I was living in a vortex.

Everything that used to feel random — a stranger’s comment, a bird flying overhead, a song on the radio — suddenly felt precise. As if the universe had lifted its veil and whispered: “This is all a mirror. You just were not ready to remember.”

And then came the dragonflies.

Everywhere.

Swarms of them. Colors I had never seen before — iridescent blues, gold-rimmed wings, eyes like galaxies.

If I was stressed, a dragonfly would land nearby. If I had a question, one would float across my path.

They did not feel like signs. They felt like watchers. Guides. Sentinels.

Looking back now, I know exactly what they were: messengers from the field my father now lived in.

When I returned to Pennsylvania, time would stretch. It was like stepping into a looping memory. Old stories still lived in the walls. Ghosts of former versions of me were still walking around. The clocks ticked slower. My body felt heavier. I was always drawn to go, but never meant to stay.

But in Florida…

Florida was the fast lane of remembrance. Dragonflies met me at the door. Dreams were clearer. Numbers aligned. I was living in a frequency field — and somehow, I knew my dad was orchestrating it from the other side.

Then came the cards.

I had not asked for them. Three oracle cards were pulled on my behalf — and when I saw them, my breath stopped.

Heaven on Earth Playfulness Past Lives

They were not just cards. They were a message. A message from him.

Heaven on Earth was the assignment. He was telling me I was not here to escape this world — I was here to anchor the divine into it. The codes I carry, the prints I channel, the field I build — this was never a hobby. It was a mission of re-enchantment. And he knew I would try to make Earth holy again, even if it broke me first.

Playfulness was the reminder. Because he knew I would try to save too many. He knew I would give until I disappeared. So he sent the card to say: “Dance with the dragonflies. Laugh. Be light. You do not have to carry every soul across the bridge.”

Past Lives was the confirmation. The necklace was not new. The dragonflies were part of an older story. This dance we are in — me, him, the field we are building — it did not begin in this lifetime. It began long before. He was just reminding me that we had done this before. And that I was right on time.

That chapter changed me.

The necklace, the dragonflies, the cards — they were not random. They were pre-scripted by a field that loves me beyond time.

And now I know:

I was not just waking up. I was remembering a covenant. One I made with him. And with something far, far older than words.

Rev Dr. Becky