Frank J. Callahan

Frank Callahan (1950-2001) was a New York City fire captain who, along with others on his team, perished in the line of duty during the 9/11 attacks. He is honored at the National Fallen Firefighters Foundation website.

via Jeanne Love, September 10, 2006

 

"Then this kindest of men looked at me again in the eye and charged me with this question: “Which do you choose?” “What do you mean, what do I choose?

I HAVE a choice?”  “Yes, thankfully, you do."

 

Dear Friends who pray and seek peace…

 

I am Fire Captain Frank Callahan from the FDNY in New York City. I represent many who have lost their families and who have prayed for those of us who died on 9/11 to be safe. We are here to thank you all for your concerns, your insights, and your hard work. 

 

I am happy to say that many of us have found our new lives and found our peace. Many still linger in resentment and choose to live in the darkness that 9/11 created for all of us as Americans. But many more have made other choices: 

 

Some have decided to grow in their spirits, to recognize that we have far more power to change things than any of us would have ever imagined pre-9/11. Some of us have stayed closer to our families than we ever thought possible. Some have chosen simply to move on and walk away from that day and the lives they once knew. 

 

However we have processed these experiences individually, the majority of us have stayed together as a collective to watch and honor the peacemakers and their journey to salvage what was once a great America. Sadly, America has lost its direction. From over here we see the tear in the fabric of what we used to feel we stood by and promoted, in our civil liberties and in the freedom we hold so dear.  I come today as the elected representative of those of us who died, to warn, but also assure -- to paint a new picture and to call for the understanding that is necessary to change the grief into Light-Action.

 

One of the first things that brought us together when we died was the incredible roar of thousands of angels singing. We almost forgot who we were and where we had come from because the roar of the angels' music completely surrounded us. We had been drawn collectively into this huge hall and were promptly held by thousands of lighted beings.  We could never have imagined anything so beautiful.  

 

When I "came to," so to speak, and realized what was happening, I asked a kindly gentleman sitting next to me who all these people/beings were and how was it that the music was so beautiful? He responded in a way I will never forget. He took my hands and said, as he looked into my eyes, “Son…this is the result of the world praying for you..” 

 

I cried. I cried deeply and reverently because I had NEVER known such kindness. I cried because I knew my family and the families and friends of the others who were lost would be crying in desperation and grief. I cried because I felt sorry for those "on the ground” who didn’t know this. 

 

And then the strangest thing took place. Even stranger that what had already happened to me! I looked over to see where my “boys” were, the ones who had died in the attack with me. Seeing only a few at first, I got a bit worried, but the gentleman with me never left my side and knew I was frightened: I wanted to make sure that everyone “got out” and had come over here -- wherever “here” was. 

 

He took my hand again and told me to look over and ahead of where we were standing. Yet again, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There was this beautiful magnificent eagle flying all around us. Somehow it seemed larger than the biggest commercial jets. It was proud as it flew but it was more than a beautiful bird. It had several foreign-looking fellows in its talons. At first I didn’t recognize them, but I started to shake as I recognized that these foreign fellows must be the hijackers of the planes that ran into the towers.

 

I was appalled and angry. The others grew anxious as they recognized who these men were. The anger started to catch hold like a fire that couldn’t be stopped. All of a sudden the beautiful angelic voices stopped and we found ourselves in a horrible place, full of anxiety and torment. We could barely breathe. How could this be and where had we gone? The gentleman, thankfully, was still holding my hand and reassuring me that this moment could be temporary. At this point I didn’t understand anything that was happening. All I knew was that I seemed be in the darkness again, the pain, the smothering heat, the screams of death were everywhere now. I begged my friend for help and to get me out and the others out of this place. “Show me the way,” I screamed. “Show me the way out!” Nothing happened and I was angry and felt betrayed. Was I to burn in hell for this? Was this hell? What was happening? From the most beautiful place to the darkest abyss, all in a few seconds. Was this where we were doomed to stay, in this pit of ugliness? 

 

I looked around and realized that there were many suffering close by me. We tried to talk to each other about what was taking place but it was to no avail. We were lost, destined to wander in the atrocity of this attack, labeled by the very act of being connected to the rescue attempts we were trying to make. What was happening? Then the man took me gently aside and said, “This is the other side of prayer. The words of success at destroying others, have shaped this event and experience. Those who wanted this destruction are rejoicing and this is the energy that is surrounding you now.”  Oh, my God, I couldn’t believe this sudden shift. Were we all destined to be locked into these prayers of destruction and seeming payback by those radicals who shaped these terrible events?

 

Then this kindest of men looked at me again in the eye and charged me with this question: “Which do you choose?” “What do you mean, which do I choose? I HAVE a choice?” “Yes, thankfully, you do. Do you wish to be saved and healed by the choir of angels sent to you in prayer by those who believe in the power of love and forgiveness, or do you wish to swim in the sea of despair and retribution?”

 

You would think that I could answer easily and quickly but the experience was so foreign to me and so distant from any experiences on earth that I simply had to take some time to let it all sink in. My friend continued to stand with me and said, “If you go to the light your family of co-workers will go with you too. You are greatly respected and show such courage in the face of danger. They trust you to know. You have the power to shift this experience and bring truth and joy in the midst of deep despair.”

 

For a moment I, too was dark, lost, angry, and sullen. After all, I saved lives! I didn't take them! So how could I be in this darkness? I was a so-so Catholic, but I believed in God and treating others fairly. How could I stand by and release all this anguish as if I didn’t even care? And then I heard my men calling for me. “Captain, Cap…where are we? Help! We're lost…where did the light go?”

 

Within a few short moments of time I realized that I had the opportunity to continue to lead my trusting men back into the thoughts of prayer so strong that the darkness we were experiencing would quickly be removed. I squeezed my new friend’s hand indicating that it was the release of darkness I wished for myself and my men. Then he asked me the most difficult question ANYONE could ever ask me. “Do you see the eagle again?” “Yes, “I replied. “Do you see the men still in the talons of the eagle?” “Yes,” I replied again. “In order to get back to the prayer, the light, the forgiveness, the healing you so desperately need, you must forgive those men…those men who took your life, their own, and thousands of others.” 

 

I thought I would die all over again as the anger and resentment began to build inside of me. How COULD he ask that of me? But he just continued to hold my hand and smile, sending me warm thoughts of comfort and clarity.

 

All of a sudden I saw my grandma and my aunties. They were standing all together, holding each other and smiling. I didn’t hear them speak but I heard their hearts singing to me. They sang to me songs of the God of Love and forgiveness that we use to sing at church. They reminded me that the only way to God was to forgive. I began to cry uncontrollably as I recognized what this all meant: I could not move into the place of Heaven while carrying discontent, anguish, hatred, and despair. The angels sang to us as a result of all those people around the world praying for us. These prayers were so beautiful, so forgiving that nothing could keep us from the joy of God.

 

When the hijackers were first brought to us by the eagle, my own darkness had undermined the beauty of the prayers we were receiving. In essence we were giving the prayers away, denying their power. Our own anger was betraying us and nothing would save us from that darkness as long as we were honoring and reinforcing our own anguish and hatred. What an interesting form of betrayal was coming forth: it seems that we were betraying ourselves. We had forgotten to forgive in order to be released. In those few moments as the men and I were coming to grips with this, the sounds of the angels started to reach our sad ears once again. We knew what we had to do in order to be truly free. I thought of Martin Luther King, Jr. and his words, “Free at last, free at last. Thank you, God, we are free at last.” Now, at last, I KNEW what he meant.

 

It took a while for everyone around me to come to the same conclusions I did. But once we did, the Light grew brighter, our sensors grew keener and our hearts started to feel lifted. The only tears now were for those who did not know this…and the grief that they would carry needlessly. What a sad moment for all of us.

 

The wonderful, kind gentleman with me then insisted that it was time for this communication. He says you know him. His name is Norman. He says he used to teach piano and he died of cancer a while ago. He has told me about you and the work that you and your friends are doing. So I have watched you closely to learn and to grow.

 

I am now working towards peace in our world. I have worked tirelessly to understand how this whole thing works. Norman says I am getting the hang of it. I have tried to communicate with my family and friends and have had some success, but the grief keeps them from knowing the joy that we are all “right here” -- just on different sides of the light.

 

Thanks to everyone who has prayed and done rescue work for those of us who left our physical bodies during the attack on the towers. I don’t choose to see the tower attacks as darkness. I choose to see them as light events: a time when we were shown how important it is to choose what we will serve: the consciousness of love and forgiveness, or the painful memories of loss and destruction. 

 

There are still those who died and have not yet been willing to “cross over into this form of understanding.” But those of us who have just keep singing: “Free at last, free at last, Thank you God, We are free at last.” My other favorite is “Jesus wants me for a sunbeam."

 

You all need to know how powerful prayer is, and continues to be, for all of us. To help us and to help the world please don’t fall into the pity-party victim syndrome. That is a useless world that only sings to itself and goes nowhere. 

 

In His love and guidance,

 

Frank

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Jeanne Love offers some brief background comments on this Message:

 

In 2006 I was teaching a spiritual development class. Picking up names from spirit wasn't one of my strong points at the time, but one of my students seemed to be better at it, and had received the name "Frank." I put it aside not knowing what its purpose was at the time.

 

As we got closer to the 5-year anniversary of 9/11, "Frank" came through with this communication. Norman, who brought Frank to me, had indeed been a personal friend, and after he passed over he became my guide. Norman was wise, gentle, full, and practiced the life he talked about daily.

As Frank dictated his story I couldn't help but experience a deep emotional connection to what he was sharing. I basically cried through the whole writing. Because I knew Norman, I could so relate to how he helped Frank and his men over. It would be so Norman. 

 

I think this Message serves as a powerful reminder for us all as to how we can approach the darkness and how it can change.