Beschrijving

Yet even as a child, before I had the language for such questions, heaven spoke. I remember sitting quietly on the porch of my parents’ home, the wild stretching before me like a living canvas. The wind carried more than sound—it carried whispers. The rustle of trees, the cry of hyenas at night, the still gaze of giraffes moving through golden light —all of it spoke to me, as though creation itself was alive with secret meaning.

By the time I was eight or nine, the veil between worlds had thinned. I began to see and hear what others could not—visions from the Spirit realm, impressions carried like sacred whispers into my soul. For a season, it was as though the heavens leaned close, inviting me into mysteries far beyond my years. And though those gifts were snatched away before I could fully hold them, the memory of that early touch of the divine remained etched into my spirit. It was the spark that would guide me, even in the darkest valleys.

It was then that I came to understand the truth of Scripture:

Acts 2:17–18 (NIV

\