I Saw God Through the Kitchen Window

Cupping my fingers, I glide them across her trapezius and steadily up and along her neck, pushing in my thumb. I finish the move at the base of her skull. I rub with small, deep circles to soften the solidified fascia.

My client, lying prone, her face resting on a cushioned cradle, asks if I can go harder on that side of her neck. It feels tight. Libby, her dog, had nestled herself between her and her husband last night, and she’d ended up sleeping in an awkward position.

Of course, I tell her, no problem, and start to work on her neck and locate the trigger point almost immediately. And with the touch of my fingertips, I help it to relax once again.

“You always know exactly where to go!” My client sighs.

And it’s true, my hands always know exactly where to go. It’s a strong pull, intuition, or a knowing, and I’ve been guided to massage this way for most of my bodywork career.

This ‘knowing’ is an overpowering sense that draws me in. It’s almost as if the client’s pain, or the issue of the pain, is in me, or I am in their body, and so I know exactly where I need to be. Like I have a map, and I know it’s a gift that all my clients praise, and yet I know it can’t be from me; I can only be the conduit to this sixth sense, not the instigator.

Years earlier, I became aware of this unusual phenomenon working through me when one of my beauty clients showed up for her appointment with a bad headache; the pain was etched across her face. She was having her eyebrows tinted, but first, I felt I needed to place my hands directly on her forehead — to see if I could help — and an energy rushed through me, pushing my head completely back. My client couldn’t believe how her headache disappeared ‘just like that’. But no more than I could!

***

The tension in my client’s neck has dissipated, and she settles down. I silently permit her to go into her own thoughts and look through into her large kitchen-diner, and through the floor-to-ceiling windows out onto her picturesque garden. The house is rented, her garden is already well established with freshly cut grass and pruned apple trees; the gardener has done a fine job.

I look down at my client just to make sure I engage in what I need to do next as I scan her back and let my intuition and knowledge guide me. Once I’m set for what’s next to work on, I slowly look up and once again, direct my gaze through to the kitchen-diner and out onto the scenic garden.

I can’t quite take in or believe what I see. It doesn’t make sense, and I don’t know how I know what I am seeing, but I know I am seeing it. It’s part of my five senses, but there’s also a sixth sense that’s suddenly become apparent and the foundation of my sight. I see God standing in the garden. I don’t know what ‘God’ looks like, but deep down in the very depths and template of my soul, I know that it’s Him.

And He is looking at me. Not with eyes, but a consciousness that I never even knew existed. And I know that I know, but don’t know why or how I know. It’s an unprecedented and profound sight.

I’ve relayed this story to a few select friends, and I’ve experienced a wave of vulnerability and embarrassment rush through me after I’ve told it. Thoughts of them finding it too crazy to believe rush through my head, and I wonder if I am making it up, or if they think I am. But I saw Him, and I know that I know that I know.

It wasn’t a man, or a figure or a shadow or even a terrifying ghoul. All I can attest to was as if He was a gargantuan mist, an aura, and this aura held a tangible presence, which held a connection, and the connection connected to the sixth sense part of my limbic brain, and I knew that I knew that I knew.

This mist wasn’t just a cloud-like shape present in the garden; it was a boundless entity. An omnipresence that emanated a stillness, yet a powerful awe and intelligence, and the presence was quiet but overpowering. I don’t know why He suddenly appeared, or wanted me to see Him, or why He granted me the spiritual eyes to do so.

As I looked on, I asked myself, “Am I going mad here?”

I continued to stare and take in this divine expanse, this oneness that was filled with a consciousness that was so tangible, it was beyond belief.

I continued to massage my client while I contemplated this supernatural scene. I was well aware that I had been privy to having intuitive direction in my massage over the years, yet this presence was of a different realm.

This is not a science-backed piece, but an honest witness statement from a regular bodyworker and creative.

It’s true, I may have seen angels before, a couple of times when I was a teenager, taking lethal solvents. A ten-foot angel appeared before me to warn me, as he watched me holding my aerosol can, and another in another room and another time: to again warn me of these dangerous teenage inhalant-abusive highs.

But this wasn’t like that. This was thirty-four years later, and I was absolutely sober and healthy.

I have pondered over whether this divine appearance was a warning, what with the pandemic that arrived two months after, or that my nephew drowned five months later. Was it a warning? It was a rock-bottom year that year. But I’ve had so many of those years, with little warning.

I have been trying and failing hard to create income for over two years now, and have prayed and wondered about that day that I witnessed that surreal sighting back in January 2020. What was that all about? I’d thought. And I’ve prayed to hear Him, and for answers and guidance.

Last week, I heard Him in a fine layer of sleep. His voice was as tumultuous and frightening as ear-splitting thunder. I was so petrified that it woke me. I sat up crying and shaking, and had to wake my partner, just like I had done recently with another strange intuitive dream.

I was concerned it was another sign. Another imminent death. As I said, just like my recent ‘Father Wound’ supernatural dream, and just like that day, was it really God I saw through the kitchen window?

© Chantal Weiss 2026. All Rights Reserved