CHILDREN    from:
Making Concrete From Water
When I was six years old, I was playing on the back patio with my small water gun. It was near noon on a hot summer day. The sun beating down on the cement patio had made it exceedingly hot, so much so that the water from my water gun evaporated almost as soon as it hit the ground. I decided I wanted to know if water from my gun could leave a mark on the cement after evaporation, so I picked an area that was smooth, flat, and all the same color and shot two little squirts there. Then I kept my eyes on them until they evaporated so I would not lose track of where they had been.

Soon, the silver sparkle from the sun on them disappeared, which I knew meant the water had evaporated, but both drops were still there. I got down on my hands and knees to examine them and found the water had turned into hard, dried concrete like the rest of the patio, but the specks remained in the shape of the original water droplets. I tried scratching them off but couldn't. They were totally hard.

Still down on my hands and knees, I let two more drops of water fall an inch away so that I could watch close up how this transformation happened. But this time they only evaporated, leaving no mark at all. So, I let a couple more drops fall directly on top of the original drops. They ran down either side, but again the new drops only evaporated, leaving no observable mark.

But those two original squirts—one more rounded and the other long and bent to the left, exactly as I'd seen them fall from my water gun—were still there, unchanged, when we moved away from that house three and a half years later.

Until two years ago, I had never doubted that the water had changed into cement. But now, with an understanding of the extreme nuclear power of the strong and weak forces within the nucleus of an atom, I started doubting that any force, spiritual or physical, would or even could rearrange each of at least 1,021 sextillion atoms, defying those forces in all those places at the same time simply to change water into cement.

But as so often happens in my life, the TV came to the rescue just five days after I recognized my doubt and provided the answer as to how it can be magically done. I had turned on Netflix and found a documentary about the famous Scole Experiment (you can find a wide variety of books and videos about it) where similar "transmutations" took place before the eyes and in the hands of scientists trying, albeit unsuccessfully, to disprove their validity. The spirits involved in those experiments explained that they did not transmute any atoms from one type to another. Instead, they simply moved existing substances through time/space from one location to another, taking them from locations where they would never be missed.

Finally, I had an explanation that made sense! My water did not change into cement. The water had evaporated as I watched while, at the same time, cement was moved through time/space from an unseen location to perfectly fill the space where the water had been.

I'm sure someone from the spiritual realm gave me that experience so that I would forever know such things were possible. But it is also true that at six years old, I had not yet been "entangled" with anyone else's beliefs about wondrous happenings. Likewise, I had not yet been entangled with any concepts about molecules or physics in general; therefore, my experience did not have to follow the known laws of physics at that time. But the moment I began trying to study what I had done in order to figure it out, the entanglements began, preventing me from repeating the event.

But I wasn't the only one who had this experience! I was at our weekly get-together with friends at their apartment (all people whom I'd never said a word to about my cement experience) and was really surprised when the lady who lived there told us all how when she was six years old—the same age I had been—she had been pretending to make concrete out of mud and water, and then it actually turned into real concrete! She stressed to us again that it wasn't just "like" concrete; it had actually turned into¬†real¬†concrete, so she thought she had discovered a new way to make concrete that everyone could use in the future. But alas, even she was never able to repeat the experience.

After that, I told her my experience but saw doubt in her eyes. Of course, it likely sounded as though I was just copying what she'd said, what with it being such an unusual thing for either of us to have experienced. But I'm still glad she told her story first so that I would know she was for real, not just copying my words. It's personally reassuring when others experience the same things I do.

The house where my water turned into cement on the patio was also torn down. This time, it was decimated to build the Mormon temple that stands there today on Willow Lane in Dallas, Texas. We toured the temple when it was first built, and through a glass window in the hallway, I could see down into the baptismal room. The baptistery inside was as large as a swimming pool. Everything within was painted swimming-pool blue, including four life-sized statues of rams, each ram facing out from the center in one of the four cardinal directions. They reminded me of the four Native-American gods I saw likewise facing outward around the fire at a sweat. Could both have originated from the same ancient teachings?

Baptism is considered a very sacred ceremony within the Mormon church, where new members open themselves to allow Holy Spirit into their being, guiding them from that point forward into acts and knowledge ever more godly. And this pool is located on or near the spot where I saw water change into concrete years before. Therefore, I suspect the fact that this spot was later going to be used for very magical ceremonies is what provided the boost -- through time and space -- that instigated my experience of seeing water change into concrete three decades before this temple was built.