Ok, some folks may decide today that I'm completely nuts. However, this blog was started primarily to give me a quasi-journal to look back on and reflect and I'm wanting to start some documentation on this issue for exactly that purpose. So you can believe or not; call me a kook or agree with me. Whatever. I have a very logical mind and I can smell BS from a mile away. I also have a very open mind and I'm telling you, I've seen enough to be convinced that there are spirits among us.
Yeah, go ahead and laugh. Some will say I have good intuition. Some will say I have a raging imagination. And you will be right. But that's beside the point. The fact is that neither of those qualities satisfactorily explains to me what I've experienced over the last few years.
I think I've always been just a little bit sensitive (in the psychic sense). I have strong gut feelings that hit me from time to time that I've learned to listen to, because they seldom steer me wrong. Maybe that's intuition, maybe not. However, a few years ago I started to become more aware of some inner nudges that didn't seem to be quite intuition. The more I paid attention to these odd internal messages, the more I became aware that there was a pattern.
Most of the episodes have occurred since the deaths of my grandmothers. Both of my grandmothers were very supportive of my family history pursuits in life and I am very confident that they are continuing to support me in the afterlife. I have made so many "intuitive" leaps in my genealogical research that have led me to the right connections across time that I know I have had little psychic nudges from somewhere that pushed me in the right direction. Some of those leaps were just too out of the boundaries of normal research methods. The naysayers can say that I have just developed into a very good researcher, and I have, but that's not enough to explain why I will impulsively pull a book from a shelf in a library when there's no reason at all to suppose it will concern my family and only to find that there is a very definite connection to my research within its covers.
How does one explain how I can drive up to a cemetery that I've never visited before, with limited directions, as if I know exactly where I'm headed? And then when I arrive, the tendency to walk right up to the grave I am there to find?
Not long ago I was headed down to the Frankum reunion in West Columbia. I've taken many different routes to Wharton and beyond over the years, but on this occasion as I was driving out of Wharton and toward El Campo I had a very strong definite urge to take a hitherto unknown road leading out into the country. A few minutes later there was a torrent of rain, but I was on a little two lane road with virtually no traffic, so I did not have a difficult time proceeding on my journey. I wasn't sure where I was going, but at least I wasn't in highway traffic under bad driving conditions. The road finally came to a "T" and the rain stopped. And I realized that I was at a point to turn toward Boling on a road that leads directly to West Columbia. I got to the reunion probably a good 1/2 hour earlier than I would have if I had kept going toward El Campo. I didn't know I would come out on that road; all I had was a strong inner push to get off the road I was on and take one I had never seen before to Heaven only knew where.
On another recent occasion, I drove past the house where a couple I knew many years ago once lived. They were good friends of my grandmother Wilcoxen, but I had not thought of them in some time. I found myself wondering where they had been buried. So far as I know I never saw their obituaries and I did not attend the funerals or speak of their funerals with anybody. I decided to ask my father the next time I saw him, or their daughter if I happened to run into her around town as I sometimes do. I even mentioned it to little brother and asked him to ask Daddy if he saw him before I did. About two days later, while driving to work, I noticed the sign to the Haynie Chapel Cemetery which is located just off Highway 71 in Garfield. I had one of those strong urges to drive back and take a look at it, so I followed my impulse and drove the short distance. The gates were open (they've not been open on any subsequent visits there), so I drove slowly through. Imagine my surprise when just a short way through the gate I looked out the window and saw the joint stone for this couple who had so recently been on my mind. It was a definite goosebumps moment.
I have a healthy skepticism when people claim to be psychic, but I do believe that there are those with genuine abilities. I've been catching episodes of Crossing Over with John Edward and appearances of Sylvia Brown on the Montel Williams show. I admit that sometimes I go "sure" and dismiss some of their observations as so much twaddle, but there's enough validation that you can't help but come to a conclusion that there are spirits among us. Which can be comforting or upsetting, depending on your viewpoint. I prefer to be comforted.
I like the idea that my forefathers and mothers may be touching base ever so often, lending support or nudging me in a direction that I might not otherwise think to go. I also find myself thinking from time to time that some of them are deliberately dodging me, refusing to help push me in the direction to find them in the past and uncover their secrets. But that only makes it more interesting in the long run. It takes all kinds to make a family.
What brought me to tackle this little essay today was something that happened yesterday. Sylvia Brown especially mentions the association of random coins being placed by spirits to get your attention and let you know they are around. With that in mind, hold onto your seat.
Yesterday morning I started the car and the light came on to indicate that I had a low tire. I decided that I would stop at a gas station about half-way to Austin and check the tire pressures. A little before I got to the gas station, the light went out, but I decided that I should err on the safe side and make the stop anyway. I pulled up to the air hose and hopped out with my pressure gauge. Just a few inches from three of the tires I found a bright, shiny penny. Three pennies. In close proximity to three of my tires. Coincidence? Maybe. Why did the light come on when all the tire pressures were in the proper range? Why did I stop even though the light had gone out? Why did I park in the exact place to have three pennies positioned by three of my wheels?
I find random coins quite often and especially on days when life isn't going so well. I always pick them up and carry them along. Because maybe it's a friendly spirit letting me know that I'm not alone.
You can believe or not. But in any case, you have to admit that these things are odd enough to push the coincidence factor a little off the normal range.
Cue the theme to Twilight Zone....