Posted on 06/09/2002 4:12:34 PM PDT by Hellmouth
Uncle John First of all, I'd like to say that although my family has never been dabbled in any paranormal practices, but we were always taught to have respect for the dead and those on "the other side". When this incident occurred, I was about 10 years old. It was close to midnight, and as usual, I had waited for my parents to go to bed and turned my bedside lamp on and began reading a book. There was motion in my peripheral vision and I looked up rather alarmed and saw my Uncle John standing there. Immediately, I felt calm. I didn't question his being there as it didn't seem strange. He talked to me briefly, telling me that he loved me and to promise to be good. When he ended by saying that he wouldn't be back to see me anymore, I began to cry and ask him why. Right before my eyes, he began to become transparent. Fading slowly, his smiling face began to split, spilling blood onto his plaid shirt. Just as one side of his head seemed to drop to the floor, he disappeared completely. My sense of calm was gone, and I realized what had just happened to me. I jumped from my bed and ran down the stairs to my parents room. About half way down the stairs, the telephone began to ring. I burst into my parents room, out of breath and crying, wanting too tell them what had happened. Instead, when I opened my mouth, I heard my own voice say, "Aunt Mary needs you on the phone!" The conversation was short and to the point. My mother was crying, and Daddy was on the phone, trying to calm Aunt Mary. Later that morning, my mom asked me how did I know Aunt Mary had been on the phone. I told her everything, and she backed away from me as I spoke. Uncle John had been driving down the two lane highway to his farm when his pick up truck was hit by an 18 wheeler. The service was closed casket, his head had been damaged beyond repair. In fact, it had been nearly cleaved in two.
For sentimental reasons, my mother, after dad died, was desperate to find the ring. But it was gone. It wasn't in its usual box, nor was it in any of the desk drawers. We tore my father's den apart looking for it, but it was nowhere to be found. Hope was abandoned after we'd scoured every possible niche.
About a year later, my mother went into my father's den and happened to look at the desk (the same desk which the entire family had practically rendered into kindling while looking for the wedding ring). There, gleaming atop the box in which it was normally kept, sat the ring. I can attest personally to the fact that the ring, in the place where my mother discovered it, COULD NOT have been overlooked previously. It's beyond any of us how it arrived there to finally be found.
From my own experiences in that den, as well as in my dad's work room, the discovery didn't surprise me at all. Even now, eight years after he passed on, my dad "leaves" me little gifts. My wife and I were thinking about buying a power drill for our home, but before we did, I returned to my home town to visit my mother. Went to the work room to look for a rasp file, and found a black and decker power drill sitting on my father's old work bench right where the rasp files were. Its cord was rolled up and the drill bit box rested right beside it.
I'm not saying that drill couldn't have been there all along, but I'd been in that room fifty times since dad died, and I hadn't noticed it. About three months before that, one of the screws had come out of my eyeglasses, and no one in the house had one of those tiny screw drivers that you need to fix that particular problem. I just went to the basement and found just such a tool (a complete little kit, actually) waiting for me in plain view on the work bench where my father did all his reloading. At least twice I've discovered, in plain sight in his den, books related specifically to recent interests - weather patterns and North American trees - I'd acquired. I'm not saying there's anything ghostly about any of this. But I'm not saying there isn't, either.
http://freerepublic.com/focus/news/677977/posts
This is the link that shows at least two or three pictures that have those orbs. One picture has many-#2, one has "something"? way back in the tunnel-#4, and another has a couple bright orbs-#5.
Two months after my mother passed, my family and my mother in law went to the beach. I had my mother-in-law take a family picture of us. She took one, and immediately took another shot.
When they were developed one was a perfectly normal picture, but in the other there is an orb right at my hand. I wish I had the ability to post them but I do not. How could moisture be there one second and not the next?
I agree that God has His own ways of sending messages of comfort around the heartbreaking events of life. One happened to me about 10 years ago.
I was hiking alone in the New Mexico desert at an ancient Indian ruins at Chaco Canyon, which itself is a rather eerie place. Coming down off a mesa, I could see a coyote standing in the dirt road below, looking up at me. I figured such a skittish animal would be long gone by the time I made it down to the road about 10 minutes later. But there he was: standoffish but nonetheless still there in the road, about 20 feet away, looking at me.
I figured he was looking for a handout, so I tossed him a bit of granola bar. But instead of snarfing it up, he backed off a little. After about a minute or more of this eye contact, he kind of sheepishly backed away, then turned and quickly walked off, looking back once or twice.
It was very wierd. And the Zuni family I had dinner with that night sat in stunned silence when I related the tale. I later learned why they seemed so uncommunicative. Coyotes, in their cosmology, are often the habitation of spirits, and the messengers of omens. Usually bad.
One week later, I got my mom's tearful call that my 70-year-old father, a righteous man of God, had died in his sleep, having never been ill.
One other oddity that day at Chaco: After seeing the coyote, I was driving north out of the park when a brief but violent rain sqwall swept through. And as I was plowing along the muddy dirt road, I was stunned to see not one, but two of the brightest rainbows I've ever encountered. Right in front of me.
God DOES care.
Nothing really interesting happened to me except for some rapping in my mother's bedroom, after she had died. I had slept there several times, and nothing unusual - except for the night of her funeral.
Also, a dream that I had of one of my favorite cats a few weeks after he had been killed by a pack of dogs. I was half asleep, but I was aware that I was half asleep and that I was dreaming. Teddy was lying on my pillow, and I could smell him and feel his softness and warmth.I still missed him terribly, but I was comforted by his ?visit?
But this one is funny:
A niece's mother (a widow) kept talking about all the noisy people upstairs in her house. She lived in a single house. After the mother died, my niece's 2 college sons moved into the house. One day, they told their mother ---"Mom, remember all those noisy people Grandma used to complain about? Well, they're back!"
LOL!
(Give it time to "materialize.")
That reminded me of something. When I still lived at home I had this white 40's looking phone in my room. The phone had this very loud bell like ring, just like an old fashioned phone. About 3-5 days a week it would do this weird ring as if someone on an extention hung up the line, but it was always after everyone else had gone to bed and only on my phone. It wasn't a normal, full ring. It was shorter and had a bit of a different tone. My fiance worked nights and would sometimes call when he got home from work between 11:30 and midnight. So I would sit with the phone really close to me in case he called I could grab it quickly so the whole house (it was only my mom and dad and I in the house at that time) wouldn't wake up. When it would ring like that I would grab it and there would just be dial tone.
This one night my parents went to bed really early, about 8:30 pm. I was up watching TV and my phone started doing this ring. It did it once. It did it twice. It did it three times. It kept doing it. I was starting to get aggrevated so I picked up the phone and had it close to me and as soon as it started to ring I would pick it up. There would always be nothing but dial-tone. I would expect to hear a click if someone were calling me and repeatedly hanging up. I did *69 and it said the time of the last call was around 7 pm and it was my aunt's number. Finally, after this went on for at least half an hour I said out loud, "Look, I know you are trying to tell me something, but I don't know what it is. You are going to have to find a better way to tell me because I am starting to get pissed!" Then it stopped. The phone may have done the weird ring thing a couple of more times, but for the most part it stopped. We have the phone in our bedroom now and it has never done it.
The battles rage aplenty close at hand and far abroad. Few comrades there seem to be far too often. Your encouragement is MOST welcome. BLESSINGS to you and yours.
The coyote story is quite plausible to me as is the rainbow one--as messages from Father to your heart. Those canons are awesome, right? It will be good to get back and see some. I also will enjoy seeing Oak Creek Canyon again in Arizona. Hope to see Arcosanti as well. . . though my Dad hates that place for biggoted "damn hippies" reasons.
Some assert that there are ancient Chinese characters in some remote cliff dwellings in rarely viewed ruins. . . and that Navajo has 90% of the vocabulary of a native Chinese type language on Hainan island, if I have my locations correct. I haven't checked that out but read it in a seemingly authoritative source. I know Navajo is Athabaskan.
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.