Friday, December 18, 2009

A Visitation

Last night after Aaron went to his restaurant job, I began hearing knocking on the walls. This was definitely knocking, not the assorted noises made by the rodents that sometimes lurk in the frame of this old building. Later in the evening, objects in rooms in which I was not present began dropping. Objects that had been securely, not precariously, placed. Finally, before I went to bed, I turned off the lights in the living room, leaving on only the Christmas tree lights. As the four bulbs of the ceiling fan went off, another bout of knocking began. I smiled and asked, "Is that you, Mom?"

Immediately upon making that query, one of the bulbs in the ceiling fan turned on, then off. Interesting because this is one of those cool bulbs that comes on slowly, not all at once, as it did this time. Also interesting is that only one of the four ceiling-fan bulbs turned on, though they are all activated by one switch. I took this to be a "yes."

As an additional confirmation, Rasputin barked and was agitated. Animals know.



I spoke aloud to her in a relaxed and loving way, something that I had not been able to do when she was lying in the hospital bed, a mere shell of a human being. I said something like this:

"Mom, I know these last years and especially these last weeks and days have been difficult for you, and I'm sorry for that. I know that you were not a happy person, and I'm sorry for that too. But what I wish for you now is that you open yourself up completely and unabashedly to accepting love in a way that you never opened yourself up to it when you were on this plane of existence. I wish that you embrace God's love fully, and that it is much, much more than you had ever dreamed love could be.

"I also know you suffered from anxiety, and that is why I wish you peace. I hope that you find peace and comfort, rest for your soul.

"I wish you a peaceful, smooth, easy transition to realms of light and love. Take good care, Mom. You are free to go in peace and in love. Goodbye, Mom."

I then asked my protector, Archangel Michael, to escort her, to lead her to her next assignment.

Since then, there have been no more phenomena. I believe she has transitioned.

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About Me

Southern California, United States
Perhaps my friend Mark summed me up best when he called me "a mystical grammarian." I am quite a mix--otherworldly, ethereal and in touch with "the beyond," yet prone to being very precise and logical, when need be. Romantic in the big-canvas meaning of the word, I see the world as an adventure, as a love poem, as a realm of beauty and wonder.

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