The Other Side 3
All Hallows Eve, October 31, 2017
Stories like these are in the memoir:
To mark All Hallows Eve, which celebrates the saints, I am retelling true stories of encounters with saints told by their family members still living in this material world. Our secular world refuses to accept the interpretation I give them. I think they give evidence of spiritual reality—what we call “God.”
But first I want you to know why I've been neglecting this blog. I've been working on my memoir and getting letters published in papers. The latest, supporting gun regulation, appeared on Sunday in the St. Cloud Times.
Now, stories of saints. Mindy's dad passed to the Other Side years ago:
A bright light enveloped her, not like the shining sun, but pulsing. It was beautiful and she immediately felt her dad’s presence. Without hearing words, she felt the message, “All will be well. You are strong.”
She sent a message in return, “We love you. Goodbye.” And it was goodbye. Nothing similar happened again. She knows that this, not his funeral, was the real goodbye.
Cindy contributed her story for my blog:
Mom was very ill with breast cancer and died November 2005. She knew she was dying but wanted absolutely no one to know about it, including her doctor. She dealt with it all alone and in silence. Before Mom died she had some visitors. She told me these stories ten days before she died, and they are shocking to all of us. She said she was lying in bed when Dad, who had died in 1994, lay down next to her.
"Did he say anything?” I asked. “What did you do?"
"He didn't talk, he just lay there. I didn't talk to him either. I just worried about what I was going to make him for breakfast. I had nothing in the house."
Another time she was in bed and at the foot of it stood her father with a very young child. They smiled at her and left. She said he really was there, but she didn't know who the child was. She thought it was a girl because the child was wearing a white long dress.
My cousin assured me it was no girl. She is more into the paranormal than I, someone I need to introduce you to someday. She said she was sure Pa brought Mom's older brother to meet her. This almost-two-year-old had died from some childhood disease.
Bob’s mom was an immigrant, a WWII war bride from France. Approaching her room in ER, he heard her having a conversation in French, but when he got to the room, no one was there with her. She was talking with her deceased sister and other deceased relatives. She did this several times during the last weeks of her life. Asked how that could happen, she said, “They come to me,” and added, “I do not have a fear of death.”
Her doctor said many patients are able to cross over before their bodies finally let go of this life. On one of those last days, he said, "Mom saw a shining golden light with angels inside it. 'Do you not see that?'" she asked.
Bob tried many medical avenues to save her life, and she fought to stay alive for him and his wife. But then he heard her praying to be taken. Two weeks before she died, he had a fruitful conversation with her and said, “It’s OK to go.” His wife noticed that she seemed more at peace after that—her face had lost its anxious look. When she passed, her face became a visage of joy.
Hospice workers tell people to give their loved ones permission to leave, and there are many stories of dying persons waiting until they have that permission, then dying in peace.
One more story, this one by professional writer Linda Marie, after the loss of a valued friend:
It was July and we were planning a get-together for several mutual “city” friends to be held on my deck. I talked to Coleen one morning, firming up the details, and that night she was gone.
One day the next spring, I was leaning on the railing of my deck, just sort of reflecting on the lake and life and nature.
I looked down and saw a turtle climbing out of the lake onto the sand. It was the first one I had seen that year. Thoughts of Coleen, her massive turtle collection and her unusual intrigue for the shelled species came immediately to mind.
The turtle, just a few feet in front of me, stayed very still, with its neck stretched farther out of its shell than I could recall ever seeing, and it was turned directly toward me for—oh—for a very long time . . .
I never tire of stories like these, often told after the death of a loved one. To me they liberate spiritual reality from institutional religion and materialist science.
Although I love them, real encounters fill some people with dread. This must be the reason Halloween evolved with its spooky ghosts and goblins. I enjoy giving candy to the kids at my door, but I wish our secular culture would take seriously the real evidence of the immaterial, spiritual realm.
You can find these and other stories under "Paranormal" in my blog index.
Knowing from the Other Side, March 7, 2018
Stories like these are in the memoir:
To mark All Hallows Eve, which celebrates the saints, I am retelling true stories of encounters with saints told by their family members still living in this material world. Our secular world refuses to accept the interpretation I give them. I think they give evidence of spiritual reality—what we call “God.”
But first I want you to know why I've been neglecting this blog. I've been working on my memoir and getting letters published in papers. The latest, supporting gun regulation, appeared on Sunday in the St. Cloud Times.
Now, stories of saints. Mindy's dad passed to the Other Side years ago:
Just recently I was in a terrible dream in which I was in a woods, lost and hungry. I was crying. Suddenly, quite serenely, my dad walked out of the woods, wearing the khaki pants and flannel shirt I remember him wearing. He held out his arms and hugged me. Then we walked into an adjacent room and we danced. It happened to be Father's Day eve! I woke up happy and nothing that day could have changed my happy, calm, peaceful mood, even though the weather was dreary. It's given me pause to think about him and feel his love for me in strong ways I never felt before.Death is the threshold connecting this material world with the immaterial, spiritual world. About three months after her father’s death, Faye was sitting on her couch, grieving his passing, and thinking, “How can we go on? All the ways he helped us—what will happen now?”
A bright light enveloped her, not like the shining sun, but pulsing. It was beautiful and she immediately felt her dad’s presence. Without hearing words, she felt the message, “All will be well. You are strong.”
She sent a message in return, “We love you. Goodbye.” And it was goodbye. Nothing similar happened again. She knows that this, not his funeral, was the real goodbye.
Cindy contributed her story for my blog:
Mom was very ill with breast cancer and died November 2005. She knew she was dying but wanted absolutely no one to know about it, including her doctor. She dealt with it all alone and in silence. Before Mom died she had some visitors. She told me these stories ten days before she died, and they are shocking to all of us. She said she was lying in bed when Dad, who had died in 1994, lay down next to her.
"Did he say anything?” I asked. “What did you do?"
"He didn't talk, he just lay there. I didn't talk to him either. I just worried about what I was going to make him for breakfast. I had nothing in the house."
Another time she was in bed and at the foot of it stood her father with a very young child. They smiled at her and left. She said he really was there, but she didn't know who the child was. She thought it was a girl because the child was wearing a white long dress.
My cousin assured me it was no girl. She is more into the paranormal than I, someone I need to introduce you to someday. She said she was sure Pa brought Mom's older brother to meet her. This almost-two-year-old had died from some childhood disease.
Bob’s mom was an immigrant, a WWII war bride from France. Approaching her room in ER, he heard her having a conversation in French, but when he got to the room, no one was there with her. She was talking with her deceased sister and other deceased relatives. She did this several times during the last weeks of her life. Asked how that could happen, she said, “They come to me,” and added, “I do not have a fear of death.”
Her doctor said many patients are able to cross over before their bodies finally let go of this life. On one of those last days, he said, "Mom saw a shining golden light with angels inside it. 'Do you not see that?'" she asked.
Bob tried many medical avenues to save her life, and she fought to stay alive for him and his wife. But then he heard her praying to be taken. Two weeks before she died, he had a fruitful conversation with her and said, “It’s OK to go.” His wife noticed that she seemed more at peace after that—her face had lost its anxious look. When she passed, her face became a visage of joy.
Hospice workers tell people to give their loved ones permission to leave, and there are many stories of dying persons waiting until they have that permission, then dying in peace.
One more story, this one by professional writer Linda Marie, after the loss of a valued friend:
It was July and we were planning a get-together for several mutual “city” friends to be held on my deck. I talked to Coleen one morning, firming up the details, and that night she was gone.
One day the next spring, I was leaning on the railing of my deck, just sort of reflecting on the lake and life and nature.
I looked down and saw a turtle climbing out of the lake onto the sand. It was the first one I had seen that year. Thoughts of Coleen, her massive turtle collection and her unusual intrigue for the shelled species came immediately to mind.
The turtle, just a few feet in front of me, stayed very still, with its neck stretched farther out of its shell than I could recall ever seeing, and it was turned directly toward me for—oh—for a very long time . . .
I never tire of stories like these, often told after the death of a loved one. To me they liberate spiritual reality from institutional religion and materialist science.
Although I love them, real encounters fill some people with dread. This must be the reason Halloween evolved with its spooky ghosts and goblins. I enjoy giving candy to the kids at my door, but I wish our secular culture would take seriously the real evidence of the immaterial, spiritual realm.
You can find these and other stories under "Paranormal" in my blog index.
Knowing from the Other Side, March 7, 2018
Maxine Moe Rasmussen lives in the country near Ada, Minnesota, about an hour east of Fargo and Moorhead. I asked her to read and comment on parts of my memoir. One of my chapters prompted the following story in response:
Helen and her husband Bob lived across the road from us, where he grew up. She grew up a quarter mile east. They were related to much of the neighborhood and were its matriarch and patriarch. I was out walking one day and about a mile east of our house I turned around to walk back home, when I had the sorrowful thought that everything would soon be changing in our neighborhood. I didn’t like the thought, so put it aside, but it was a knowing that could not be denied.
One morning I stopped at the mailbox to pick up mail on my way to work. I was always running late and in a hurry. As I stopped the car and got out to get mail out of our box, I heard Helen’s voice. She was saying something to Bob, don’t know what, but at the sound of her voice and the closing of her car door, I felt a strong punch in my gut—the only way to describe that feeling, like someone punched me in the gut.
Not long after that, Helen got sick. My beloved neighbor Helen was in the hospital with cancer. I doubted she would get out of the hospital and was thinking this as I left my house to go to the garage one day. I noticed the new moon above me and it was so very bright. Brighter than I’ve ever seen the new moon, neon bright.
At that instant, the thought came that Helen would not be here when the moon was full. She held on while the moon gained in size and was almost full. I wondered if the prediction could have been wrong when I was so certain it was correct. She died the morning of the day of the full moon.
My certainty of the knowledge received at the new moon was correct. I can still see the extreme brightness of that new moon. These experiences are truer than physical experiences. I can only see them as real and true.
When Helen got into the car that one morning and shut the car door, it was the last time she set foot on that land. No wonder I felt a punch in the gut. She and Bob had spent their whole lives within a quarter mile of land. She never made it home again. It was a definite ending.
Bob hung on a few years before he died. These two kept the neighbors connected, and their deaths brought about many changes. Shortly after Bob died, their daughter Mary died. Mary was the one in their family who kept things together. I still miss them very much. It’s been five years since their deaths and we still do not have neighbors across the road.
Maxine was experiencing a knowledge that can't be verified by science, nevertheless true.Helen and her husband Bob lived across the road from us, where he grew up. She grew up a quarter mile east. They were related to much of the neighborhood and were its matriarch and patriarch. I was out walking one day and about a mile east of our house I turned around to walk back home, when I had the sorrowful thought that everything would soon be changing in our neighborhood. I didn’t like the thought, so put it aside, but it was a knowing that could not be denied.
One morning I stopped at the mailbox to pick up mail on my way to work. I was always running late and in a hurry. As I stopped the car and got out to get mail out of our box, I heard Helen’s voice. She was saying something to Bob, don’t know what, but at the sound of her voice and the closing of her car door, I felt a strong punch in my gut—the only way to describe that feeling, like someone punched me in the gut.
Not long after that, Helen got sick. My beloved neighbor Helen was in the hospital with cancer. I doubted she would get out of the hospital and was thinking this as I left my house to go to the garage one day. I noticed the new moon above me and it was so very bright. Brighter than I’ve ever seen the new moon, neon bright.
At that instant, the thought came that Helen would not be here when the moon was full. She held on while the moon gained in size and was almost full. I wondered if the prediction could have been wrong when I was so certain it was correct. She died the morning of the day of the full moon.
My certainty of the knowledge received at the new moon was correct. I can still see the extreme brightness of that new moon. These experiences are truer than physical experiences. I can only see them as real and true.
When Helen got into the car that one morning and shut the car door, it was the last time she set foot on that land. No wonder I felt a punch in the gut. She and Bob had spent their whole lives within a quarter mile of land. She never made it home again. It was a definite ending.
Bob hung on a few years before he died. These two kept the neighbors connected, and their deaths brought about many changes. Shortly after Bob died, their daughter Mary died. Mary was the one in their family who kept things together. I still miss them very much. It’s been five years since their deaths and we still do not have neighbors across the road.
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A college classmate commented on Knowing from the Other Side:
Thanks for sharing this wonderful piece, Jeanette. Great story demonstrating how we all have this inner voice of intuition and it’s important we learn to listen to it, trust it, and follow it. I’ve heard it referred to as our own personal GPS (Global Positioning System).
A teacher I follow states: Your emotions are your very own GPS, a rock-steady, unfailing and unerring "personal navigational device" to get you where you want to go. "All is well. You did not come here to fix a broken world. The world is not broken. You came here to live a wonderful life.
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