Saturday, October 31, 2009

Who Ya Gonna Call

Well, not Ghost Busters. Nope, our family has a soft spot for ghosts. I guess that would be admitting that I believe in ghosts. There are three of us who certainly do.

My daughter was in middle school and my son in grade school. We had lived in our 1970's house for about two years. I loved the evenings when I settled into bed with a book and Sadie, snuggled next to me. As I was reading, most nights I would feel the bed mildly vibrate. I'd put my hand on the mattress feeling it shake. On occasion my daughter felt the same with her bed. Since we lived in the hills and away from a highway, we could eliminate truck traffic. We lived on a cul-de-sac so residents were the only traffic. I wondered if we lived near a fault. So far I was not a believer.

Remember how kids always came into your bedroom, when you were almost asleep, wanting to get another drink or to tell you they were heading to the bathroom? I never understood why they had to tell me. On this night, I had several such visits before the kids settled in to the idea of sleeping. All had been quiet for a long time. My back was turned to the bedroom door. I felt three taps on my back. "Go back to bed," I said. No answer. I rolled over finding no one there. Curiously I checked on both kids. Both were snuggled into deep sleep. My dog looked at me. I looked at her. And I was a believer.

One night my son called to me from his bed. He explained that he had seen the ghost standing in the doorway wearing jeans and a plaid shirt. He wasn't afraid. In fact, he was fascinated. A long time after this event, my children and I went on a trip leaving Sadie and the house in the care of a friend. She settled into my son's room. Now we had never shared the story of our live-in ghost. Who would believe us? Upon our return, our house sitter told us that all went well and, 'by the way, you have a ghost'. She described a guy standing in the door wearing jeans and a plaid shirt. Yes indeed, we had a ghost.

Years later I moved into my cute little house. My aunt back in Ohio was very ill. I had prayed and prayed for Aunt Kate. In the middle of the night, my music box started to play. Sadie sat up looking at me. I sat up looking at her. We both sat there dumbstruck looking at a playing music box. This music box hadn't been wound in years. Yet, here we sat, woman and dog, listening to a music box that was supposed to play only when the lid was opened. Lid closed it was playing Lara's Theme from Dr. Zhivago. My aunt improved. And the music box played no more.

Am I a believer? Ooooooohhhhhhhh, yes. Does it frighten me? No. My granddaughters know of our ghosts. They thrill people continue after they have passed on. I find it exciting knowing that I don't know all there is to know. What is it that opened my mind to the real possibilities of what I cannot see? What force brought these events to us and why? We were blessed to have these experiences. We were invited to peek into an invisible world.

Halloween might lose some of its punch if it were to get out that ghosts aren't so scary after all. Is your house haunted? Good for you.

No comments:

Post a Comment