Boy, Am I In Trouble!
This morning, my mind is whirring as usual. “Whirring”…….meaning “a constant whirring noise with many, many thoughts and worries whirring around. I’m actually trying to convince myself that blogging this morning will help quiet the noise and help me to focus at the task at hand.
Often times it is said jokingly, “Lynda, you’re the psychic. You should know everything that’s coming up.” Sadly, though it is said in a joking manner, many individuals truly believe that I can see everything coming ahead for myself and for them. I’m sure, reader, that you’ve heard other psychics, rather they be well-known or the local one, that this is not how it works.
“Well, then, how DOES it work, Lynda? You see them, so why can’t you talk to them and get answers? ”
I honestly can’t tell you how it works. I didn’t pick up a book one day, do all the required meditations and soul journeying, and then “TA DAH”….I’m seeing dead people. No, I was born with this thing, and reached the point in my life that God knew I was ready to handle it.
“Why, how wonderful! Isn’t it awesome! How did you feel?”
I thought and truly believed, “Oh my goodness. I am a great sinner. My pastor back then did see something that I couldn’t see, and now I know. I do have a demon on me, and there’s no way of getting rid of it. I’m evil and demonic, and I’m on my way to hell.”
Things suddenly made since in my mind, but I could not have peace about it because of my fear of what it may be. I didn’t feel like it was a demon or a bad spirit. I didn’t feel an attachment or something controlling me. I was wanting to rejoice to God that all finally made sense, but I wasn’t sure if He would hear me or strike me down with a bolt of lightening.
At the time, I was a church organist at a more “liturgical” church. But all churches were the same on this gift of seeing spirits…..it’s demonic. I knew I would be churched if I said anything. Each Sunday, however, there came a different experience or a visitation. I knew I had to go and talk to my priest. It was just too much. After about four months, I finally went and talked to her (yes, my priest is a woman…..it took me a few years to get over that roadblock too).
You can stop laughing now.
I was shocked when she accepted it all with an open mind and an open heart, believing every word I said (well, perhaps most of what I said). But she assured me I would not be churched. She even asked me to come and talk at a woman’s Bible study.
I did attend that Bible study, and each lady had a spirit loved one to come near. But I was in for a shock when I got my own confirmation.
As the organist, I would sometimes come in during the day to practice on the organ when no one else was around. It got to the point of that when I would begin walking up the hallway, a priest dressed in a black cassack with the white collar would greet me with a “Top of the mornin’ to ya!” or “Good morning lassie!” I would smile, nod, and then walk on by thinking, “Oh boy. I’m taking this a bit too far.” Perhaps I had watched to much of “The Quiet Man” or something.
First of all, he was dressed like a Catholic priest. Why would I be seeing a Catholic priest in this church? Secondly, I doubt that an American priest would be talking all Irish, or whatever accent it was that he was speaking with. Thirdly, I don’t think an American priest would be calling me a lassie and be all merrily whistling along.
Through the months, I would occasionally notice him up on the platform sitting in a corner behind the Communion table (I’m sure the Episcopals have a special name for that location but I’m using Baptist terms). The merry greeting continued when I would come in for services, even when the hallway was full of people.
Before the woman’s Bible study, I had told my priest all of the above. “He’s an older gentleman with grey hair,” I said shrugging my shoulders, knowing that description fit most priest. “And he’s dressed like a Catholic priest.” After saying this, she explained to me that back in the day, most Episcopal priest would wear the black cassack. She felt it may be Father Costain, and explained that he had been priest there at the church for several years during the 1950’s-60’s. He actually lived there in the parsonage, what now was Sunday school rooms and offices. She could not confirm anything else, but was able to show me a picture. It could be. He did look a lot like the gentleman in the picture.
During the Bible Study, one of the ladies that was present remembered Father Costain. He was the reason she began coming there to the church. As I began to “mimic” him as best as I could by what I heard, she shook her head in disbelief. “You sounded just like him, Lynda.” She explained to me that he was not from Ireland, but was from England. He did, however, use the terms lads and lassies, and was always whistling or humming a tune.
A lot of people get cold chills. I just get emotional. Can someone pass the tissue box, please?