We have been three sisters through many lifetimes. However, we have not returned to earth together in all of our incarnations. Sometimes one or the other of us makes the journey alone—so that, perhaps, we are not overly dependent on one another. Then it becomes necessary for us to find each other in the next lifetime.
Our present lifetime has encompassed both Canada and the United States. Somehow we discovered each other-I don’t think we can take credit for this; a fourth person is responsible for bringing us together—it must have been the hand of God that directed her to bring us together–Still, we quickly recognized our kinship.
Our lifetimes have spanned centuries and virtually every country in the world; some of these lifetimes have been dreadful and short-lived, such as a lifetime spent in the middle east where our lives were shortened by the brutality of a father and brothers who had no respect for females. I find it extremely difficult to read or hear about the plight of women in the middle east; I think my soul recognizes the plight of our previous lives in that country. There was no escape from the servitude. We three have spent repeatedly lifetimes searching for, seeking, equality of the sexes.
We have been Jewish girls growing up in Spain during the years of the inquisition; we have been Dutch girls coming to adulthood as the Netherlands was on the brink of war. Something about typing this brings anxiety and tears to my eyes. I think perhaps we were Jewish Dutch girls. We did not escape from the tyranny and brutality of the German soldiers. Worse than the German soldiers was the tyranny and brutality of our own people, to save themselves, they bent to the will of the Nazis occupying our country.
We were best friends who worked in a shirtwaist factory but died, together, when a fire broke out in the factory and the doors were all barred, preventing escape.
We were three sisters in Jerusalem when a prophet named Jesus came through the town, riding on a donkey—but not long after was condemned as being a criminal and was nailed to a cross. From a distance, we watched the Roman soldiers nailing his hands and feet to the cross. We could not stand the sight and turned away, working our way through the crowd of people who cheered as the man on the cross moaned with pain. From a distance we heard his last words – “Father, why hast thou forsaken me?”
We wondered who His father was, and why He had not been saved. Later, when we left that lifetime behind, shedding it like a furry animal sheds a winter coat, we learned who His Father was, and what the man meant. The people said the man had returned to life; the soldiers said the people had stolen His body to confuse everyone. That was a most difficult lifetime. We did not return to earth for a few hundred years. Our souls needed time to recover from what we had witnessed, the crucifixion of the Son of God.
But when we returned to earth again, as a unit – the three of us to one family – we were peasants in a small town in England, living poorly. It did not appear that human beings had learned very much since the birth and death of the man called Jesus. We lived near the monastery where our brother William was employed to take care of the livestock. All the wealth of the land, aside from that owned by the royal family, belonged to the monks and bishops and other religious orders. My sister Catherine said she wanted to join a nunnery; life would be better there. Of course we could not let her go alone; Elizabeth and I had to join the nunnery too. This was a difficult lifetime. I had never in any lifetime been one to keep quiet—and nuns did not speak unless spoken to! But for the most part, life in the nunnery was calm and quiet. Catherine, being older and smarter—even for a young peasant girl—was taught to read and write and quickly moved up in the ranks of the convent. This was much to the advantage of Elizabeth and myself, for Catherine often saved little treats for us—something I know the Mother Superior would have been horrified about, had she ever learned.
I had always a special talent for cooking – for concocting soups and stews with herbs, a soup bone and a few vegetables, and Catherine recommended to Mother Superior that I be sent to the kitchen to work and learn how to make bread and pastries, jellies and jams, chutneys and pickles—all of which I simply adored doing. Whenever Mother Superior wanted to punish me for some infraction (usually talking), I would be banned from the kitchen for several days. Eventually this form of punishment was dissolved; the head cook of the kitchen, Sister Mary Aloysius, complained to Mother Superior that banning me from the kitchen was more of a punishment to her as I did the lion’s share of work in the kitchen. So, although the countryside of Merry Old England wasn’t especially merry in those days, our lifetimes as sisters in the nunnery was peaceful and calm. In retrospect, I think our God felt it necessary that we have this respite. And my love of cooking can be traced back hundreds of years to a nunnery in England.
We returned to life on earth again a few hundred years later; this time we would be born to an Aztec mother and father. Catherine’s innate leadership and Elizabeth’s ability to read and write – and my ability to prepare a meal with the barest of ingredients – kept us living well until the Spaniards invaded our country. They ravaged our countryside, murdering, raping, torturing our people; I confess we attempted to keep a low profile until both our parents were murdered by the soldiers. We three were captured and raped repeatedly.
“If ever I escape from this life of hell,” I said to my sisters, “I will never again think of intercourse as something to enjoy. If I had it in my power, I would chop off the penises of every Spanish soldier.” And I pretty much kept that promise to myself. I kept a sharp knife hidden in my skirts. When the opportunity presented itself, I chopped off a penis. Of course, I had to kill the soldier first—he would have never held still long enough to have his penis chopped off. Catherine tells me I have taken a step backwards. I tell her I have taken a step forward. Elizabeth, ever the peacemaker, advised us to escape.
We did escape but I don’t know how many people would believe how. Extraterrestrials came to our land and rescued my people. They had a great flying ship and took hundreds of us aboard. The Spanish soldiers couldn’t very well go back to Spain and tell the king and queen that the natives escaped in a flying machine. Time is not time as we know it on earth, when you are in a flying ship. When we returned to our land on earth again, vegetation had grown over our temples and pyramids, concealing everything. My sisters and our people easily blended in with other natives. We told anyone who asked that we had hidden in the forests for many years. We married and had children; it was important for our race to continue.
I don’t have the ending for our triangle of lives—we have come together again. Our story for this life has not been told completely. We are busy living it.
–Sandra Lee Smith/originally POSTED September 8, 2012