Spending rush hour with the spirit of my grandad....
I live in Durham, but work in Knightdale, so a lot of my time is spent in the car a few days a week. For a while my spirit guides were constantly bothering me in the car, I guess because I was finally still, so they wanted to use that time to tell me what to do. You would think that I would want to, because doesn't that sound so spiritual? “Oh yes, I speak to my guides every day while I'm driving.” But honestly, sometimes I just want to listen to hardcore music and tune out, forget that I’m a spiritual being at all, and just feel the double bass and listen to people screaming. IT SOOTHES ME, OKAY? And that's what was happening one day when I realized that a presence had joined me on my drive, in the front seat of my car.
Actually, that happens quite frequently. Once spirits started to understand that I could see and hear them, and send messages for them, they began to show up almost daily. I had to learn how to keep them out of my personal space and close myself off to them, but before I did that I had a lot of visitors. A few weeks ago I was about halfway home, listening to the most insane hard-core music as loudly as possible, and I felt a familiar presence next to me. I almost ignored him, but instead I begrudgingly lowered the volume and focused in, softening the energetic edges around me and letting him know it was okay. Once I sat with him for a second I knew that it was my mom's dad, my grandfather, who we called Daddy Stan. He died when I was about 13 years old, and with guilt I realized that it had been a while since I had thought of him.
In my memory he was so much fun- he played with us, called me his “little movie star”, and I always felt delighted in by him. That's a lovely feeling as a child, isn’t it? That there's someone out there who just eats you up, can't get enough of you, and always looks forward to seeing you. What a gift that was to me, and I treasured my memories of him with tenderness. On the day that he visited me, as soon as I realized who he was, I felt all of those same feelings of love until I realized that… he knows now. He knows what I do. THAT I TALK TO GHOSTS. Here was this spirit, who specifically came to me to be heard, and I was afraid of being judged by him because he had been a Christian. CAN WE EVER ESCAPE WANTING TO PLEASE OUR FAMILIES NO WE CANNOT.
Though I was swirling with this odd mixture of pride, joy, love, and shame, I begin to talk to him. I wanted to make sure it was actually him before I engaged very deeply, but the feeling of him began to open up memories in my own mind and heart. We began to talk about life, and I sheepishly caught him up on where my path had taken me, my family, my kids. Still feeling embarrassed for some reason, I rambled on and on saying super intelligent things like, “I guess I am sort of a witch now and I don't know exactly what to say about that, haha. Life is weird!” He looked at me like, that’s why I’m here you weirdo. Anyway, after exchanging a few pleasantries, I asked him what he was doing here. Why was he still so close to earth? And he gave me an answer that is becoming all too common in this work- he told me that he was afraid to leave. That this life was something that he knows, there are no surprises anymore, but he was pretty sure that he was going to have to go to hell if he left this earth-plane, and he did not want to do that. He began to share with me some of the major decisions he had made in his life that felt like “sins”, as though I was a priest and this was his confession. I was looking at a soul, not just at my grandfather, and as he talked all I felt was an absolutely massive amount of compassion. He was afraid that he was going to be punished for the things that he had done in this life and so he had stayed here, denying himself forgiveness and the freedom to move on. He expected judgment, and the truth is? He received it, from himself. He had been living an existence of torment and fear ever since he had passed. He expected pain, and he got it. And I have a suspicion that if he had moved on and had expected hell, he would've received that too- a hell of his own making.
When we think that deserve rejection, or punishment, or judgment, we always get it. We either make it for ourselves or bring it to fruition somehow. Always- even after this life is over. Part of the problem was that he wasn't deeply connected to any higher power or source that helped him to see beyond the limits of his own understanding. That is one of the beautiful gifts that spirituality can give to us- a deeper knowing of true self and wholeness. A connection to Jesus, or Buddha, or many other ascended masters and religious pathways, can help us to feel connected to a bigger story. But bad theology will tell you that the connection must be earned to be deserved, and my grandfather was afraid that somewhere in his list of sins, he had lost it. That, paired with a terrible cultural understanding of the afterlife, had convinced him that he was bound for an eternity of suffering (and this is why most earthbound spirits are earthbound).
He was coming to me hoping that a confession to someone in his family, who could hear and understand him, was enough to free him of this weight. I listened, and sent him empathy and understanding, but I realized about halfway through that he was actually asking for forgiveness, through me, from his ascended master: Jesus. Forgiveness isn't a wiping away, it is a removal of our a shame. Forgiveness is not payment for our sins, it’s a reminder of who we are, and who we always were: whole, and holy.
And it was in that moment that the spirit of Jesus also came to the front seat of the car. ITS PARTY TIME IN THE SUBURBAN on I-85! He gave Daddy Stan a huge hug, and asked (not in words, but in spirit) if he was ready to go on. Will you go with me? And friends let me tell you that the tenderness of Jesus makes me cry EVERY TIME and he’s around me a lot, so I wear waterproof mascara. My grandfather said yes, grinning from ear to ear, and I was completely forgotten and glad of it. Daddy Stan was turning his attention towards freedom, and away from the prison he had kept himself in. He was free.
Per usual I cried the rest of the way home. When I got there I just sat in my car, not wanting to talk to anyone yet. I needed to soak it in, the beauty and meaning of what I had just experienced. My grandfather had spoken to me about my mom, how much he loves her, how proud he is of her, and his regrets about not sharing that as often as he should have. He told me specifically the beauty he saw in her, the attributes he treasured. Even though it was risky, and sensitive, I texted her right away. I didn't know how she would feel about it, if I was crazy or demonic or evil, but I've learned at this point to just do The Thing I’m being told to do. My team is going to bug me to death if I don’t, so I did. She responded quickly, with tears of her own, delighted in the love of her father. In that exchange questions were answered, feelings resolved, and both my mom and her dad left only with a feeling of love, gratitude, and empathy for one another.
These are some of my favorite moments in what I do. Helping people to understand each other better. Helping love to be the currency that we speak to one another- answering questions, enabling forgiveness, and fostering connection even beyond this earthly life. Our spirits don't stop here, and the need for forgiveness and understanding doesn't either. He got it that day, both of them did. And so did I.
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