I was 5 years old on an airplane looking out the window.
Near the wing, standing on a cloud, was a man. He was looking directly at me. And he waved.
I lit up the way children do when they recognize someone they love. I waved back enthusiastically. My mother sitting next to me asked who I was waving at.
I said Papa Dios.
She looked puzzled. When I turned back to the window he was gone.
I wasn’t frightened. I wasn’t in awe. I was delighted — the way you are when you spot a familiar face in an unexpected place. Like of course he’s there. Of course he’s waving at me. We know each other.
That’s the part nobody talks about. Not the miracle of seeing him. But the familiarity. The recognition. The complete absence of surprise in a 5 year old who apparently already knew God personally.
Three years later everything in my world went wrong in the worst possible way.
I was 8. And something was happening to me that no child should ever experience.
In the middle of that darkness I had a dream.
I was in a cathedral. Enormous. Beautiful. Dimly lit with pews stretching in every direction. The kind of space that holds centuries of prayer in its walls. I walked through it alone toward the front where a throne stood.
Jesus was sitting on it.
I walked up to him without hesitation — the way I had waved at the wing without hesitation — and sat on his lap like a child sits on Santa’s lap. Like I was allowed. Like I belonged there.
I was crying.
He raised my chin with his hand. Gently. Deliberately. He made sure I looked directly into his eyes. He made sure I was seen — fully, completely, in the middle of the worst thing that had ever happened to me.
Something passed between us without words.
I nodded.
Then I got down and walked back into the darkness.
I’ve thought about that nod for 45 years.
It wasn’t resignation. It wasn’t defeat. It was the nod of someone who has just received information they needed. A confirmation. An understanding that whatever was happening was not the whole story. That the darkness was a chapter not the ending.
I walked back into it — but I walked back in knowing something I didn’t know before.
That 8 year old girl had just sat on God’s lap in the middle of her worst nightmare and looked him in the eyes and received an assignment without words.
She nodded because she understood.
I’m 53 now.
I build frequency medicine for a spiritually awakening collective. I make music encoded at 528hz designed to move through the 33 vertebrae of your spine toward activation. I decode ancient wisdom for modern nervous systems. I treat my own energy field like a programmable system and teach others to do the same.
People ask me how I know what I know.
I tell them I’ve been a Reiki master for 15 years. I tell them I’ve studied the Emerald Tablets and the Kybalion and the mystery schools. I tell them about the solar eclipse and the purple heart cloud and the ocean in Puerto Rico that got me from behind when I stopped trying to control the moment.
All of that is true.
But the real answer is simpler.
A man waved at me from a cloud when I was 5 and I waved back like I knew him.
Because I did.
And at 8 in the darkest room I’ve ever been in he raised my chin and made sure I saw his eyes and I nodded because I understood — this is not the end of your story. This is the beginning of what you came here to do.
LUXEMARA is what I came here to do.
Papa Dios waved first.
I’ve just been waving back ever since.