Sorry, Wrong Number

     One of the things I have learned the hard way about communicating with people is that every person has their own energy; their own "feeling". I don't know the exact terminology for it but I call it their spiritual imprint. Every individual, living and "dead" has an energy pattern that is as unique to them as their physical finger prints. The love that you feel for your mother, your father, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings (male and female), your children and friends. You love them all. That is very real, but if you sat and thought about it, each love is different and unique. In this same way when you try to communicate with some individuals it comes naturally and has a high success rate because you already know them and what it feels like to be talking with them (even if you've only met once).
       One day my coworker's mother passed away due to an illness. She was very close with her and I wanted to help her. I asked what her mother's name was (for this post I will call her Jane Smith). I tried to talk with her mother and received a message that talked about her brother and the concern the mother had for his emotional state and how he was dealing with the death. I asked my coworker if she had a brother. She said no. It was then that I realized that merely having a name would not cut it. How many Jane Smiths are there and have there been in the world? Do you see my point? It is possible to receive transmissions from the wrong person if you have no spiritual imprint to go off of. It posed a question in my mind and made things start to make a little sense. I, for one, have never believed in psychics (before you get offended I know that some are real, please read on). I thought they were people who were really good at psychology and preyed on individuals who were vulnerable and seeking answers for whatever is ailing them. Sometimes you hear on TV a psychic will ask an individual to bring with them something that had belonged to their loved one and from this they are able to communicate. It is because a part of them is imprinted on that object and can help to identify the right person. I also believe that a bit of caution should also be used with this theory though. The longer someone has been gone, the less their physical object back here truly mean to them. However, the love that people have for each other is something that never fades. I have not received permission to share the story of how I learned this yet, but I can tell you that it is just as effective (often times MORE effective) to use the individual themselves instead of an object and have them concentrate on their loved one. Have them think about them and remember them and just take a moment to lose themselves in the fond memories they shared with them. They will then bring to life the spiritual imprint, or energy, and you are able to sort of "tap into" that energy and recognize that the person you are speaking with is truly the intended one. 
       Others have said that slightly detailed information will also help narrow down the individuals and achieve a higher success rate by identifying the relationship between them (i.e. Jack Smith who was married to Jane Smith) the possibility of multiple relationships with those exact names is significantly lowered. However nothing is ever 100% due to many many factors. Some to include; who you are and your confidence level, who the person asking for your help is and their true intentions, the free will of the individual you are seeking out and of course the will of God and what is truly beneficial or would actually do more damage than good. There is such a thing as knowing too much and at times it can be damaging to a persons psyche. All these factors need to be remembered when experiences have low success rates. It helps you to take a step back and reevaluate what you are doing and why. Always Keep Asking.

Muddy River

       The second experience I had with communicating with those who have gone before us was just shy of the one year marker of my step brother's death. His best friend was driving under the influence and hit a tree. My mother-in-law asked me if I could also speak with him. I had not tried again in nearly a year. My entire view of what I believed was real and possible had shattered at its foundation and I struggled with this and feared for "doors I could not close" and what that might bring into my life and my home. I discussed my anxieties with a close friend of mine who claims to speak to her relatives quite regularly (perhaps a story for another day). She explained to me that my fears were true and that if I was not careful I could invite something "evil" into my world. However, she offered words of comfort and peace to me as she went on to explain that God is in control of these doors and that by going through Him and not by myself, that He was the one who was opening these doors and likewise He alone closes them, thus protecting me from any accidental "intrusions".
       I meditated on this and prayed asking for his covering and blessing. I also asked my step brother's friend for his free will; if he so chose to comply. I began with the first question, so familiar to me now, "What would you like for me to tell your family?" I waited in silence in a quiet bathroom stall at work while I was on break. Nothing. 
       I began to think about him and the memories made me "feel" his presence again. This time it was different. I did not receive any message of words, but rather a vision of a muddy river bed where the stream came into a still pool before slowly spilling into the slow moving river and dirty sand covered the shores. These are common to see in many places in South Carolina where we lived. Not far from the small river was a house. It was white with two stories and a decent sized yard. Not much of anything was particularly interesting on the property aside from its distance to the tree line which led to the muddy water. I wasn't sure if what I was seeing was his version of Heaven, where he was "recovering" and happy or if this was a real place. Again, I asked another key question, "How will they know that this is really you?" I could only make out two words, "my cat." Now, being the person I am, I assumed he had lost a cat as a child and was now reacquainted with it where he was, but I am always careful never to give others my personal opinion because it could completely ruin the meaning. Since I am only human I cannot possibly know the significance of even the smallest detail. Therefore information, odd or not and sometimes not even complete, I try to relay it just as I receive it.
     I told my mother-in-law what I had received and she kept it to herself, only to find out a few days later that he had been planning on building a house in a location very similar to my description. As for the cat, he had left it behind when he died... More often then not, I wish there were more answers and more closure. In this situation there may have been had the family been told, but my mother-in-law chose not to share it with them for fear of people approaching me and asking for my help. With my gift still in its infantcy this seemed like the safest option. Yet again, another choice. Maybe some day I will feel the need to share this with his family...we shall see.

Goodbye Grandpa

This story comes from a new reader in Oregon. She requested to remain anonymous.

       When I was pregnant with my first child, my grandpa got really sick, so sick that hospice had to step in. At the time I was working as a hairdresser and I could set my own hours at the salon. When I was not working I would spend as much time as I could with him.  I was not ready for him to leave and I asked him to please hold on until I had my son so that he could hold him before he left us.

       He said he would try, but that God had a plan and it might not work out that way... The day before he passed, he got a really high fever. His hospice nurse told me I had to tell him that it was ok to let go. It was the hardest thing I had ever done, but I knew I had to overcome my own sadness, because he deserved better. I whispered in his ear, "Let go Grandpa. I will be ok and I promise this child will hear stories about you!" He passed away that night. I woke up to the phone ringing and they gave me the news. I went straight over. Once we had laid him on the stretcher, I got my first contraction. I tried to keep quiet because they were not very close together. I waited at the house until the hospice nurse arrived. She took me into the other room and asked if I was alright. I explained that I believed I was in labor. She looked at me smiling sweetly and said, "That baby was waiting for a spirit."

       I had  my son a few days later; it was a very long labor. The first night that I was home, I was devastated that my husband made me put our son to bed in his own room. I heard him crying and got up to feed and change him. When I walked into the room, my grandpa was standing next to the crib looking at my son and my son was looking right back at him. It didn't occur to me that I should be afraid and because of this I was able to appreciate seeing my grandpa and their union. I was thrilled that he got to meet my son! I reached to pick him up and my grandpa grabbed my arm and looked me in the eye saying, "You're doing a good job. I'm proud of you." I turned to sit down and feed my son and had a sudden realization of what had just happened; he was gone and I was sublimely happy.

       I waited a long time before I told anyone because I was fearful that no one would believe me. Finally I broke down and shared my story with my grandma. She smiled at me and shared how he had come to her as well and thanked her for caring for him and told her how much he loved her.All in all, he visited my mother, my aunt, my grandma and I to say goodbye.

My First 'Real' Story

      I had just lost my mom and 10 year old brother, about a year later suddenly my step brother and his girlfriend too. I called my dad crying and told him what happened. He asked me what made me sad the most about losing my brother. I told him that there were things I wanted to say to him. My dad told me to believe that my step brother could hear me and to go ahead and tell him everything that was on my heart and while I was at it try to talk with his girlfriend too. I felt foolish, but it did make me feel better. I walked outside (I felt uncomfortable doing it in my house) and look straight out into the backyard and believed he was there and could hear me. Later, as I was driving I decided to talk with his girlfriend, Samantha who I had only met once; the night they died. I asked Samantha, "What do you want me to tell your parents?" knowing I'd never see them... A thought came into my head and said, "That I love them and I am ok." Skeptical, I said, "Well...that is what I would want to say to my family too, but how will they know that it is you and not just a thought I made up?" knowing that Samantha was an only child I was confused when I became overwhelmed with an emotion of urgent love for biological brothers. Specifically male, this love I could relate having my own biological brothers and sisters. I said ok and that was the end of that. I called my mother-in-law and asked her if Samantha had any brothers or sisters. The result was inconclusive, but assumed no. I had the opportunity to go early to Samantha's viewing and felt a strong and urgent desire to be there. I was told her family would not be present but we could pay our last respects to her. When we arrived I learned that her mother was there and my heart flew up into my throat. I had two choices. 1) I could pay my respects and leave and never have to think of this again, but always wonder what could have been or 2) I could face my fears and tell Samantha's mom that I thought I had spoken to her daughter and relay her message. After painful deliberation I decided I may never see them again and no matter what, if it were my daughter I would want to know. I gathered the courage to approach her mom and asked if I could speak with her in private. I was terrified. What if she didn't believe me? What if she thought I was a horrible person and why would I say such a thing to her? But I had made up my mind and I told her. The only trouble was, I was so scared that I spoke so softly she had to ask me to repeat myself! Again, I mustered up the strength to look her in the chin and tell her my story. When I looked up at her she had tears in her eyes. "Oh crap!" I told myself...and I wondered if she would be angry. A man came to her side and took a protective posture over her. She looked at him and back at me and asked me to tell him what I had just told her. For a third time I told him my story, this time able to look both of them in the eyes. Without missing a beat, Samantha's mom introduced the man as one of Samantha's many brothers. I had assumed she was an only child because of her characteristics, but it was because she was not only the only girl in her immediate family, but also the only girl in our whole generation for her family. Countless cousins, all male gave Samantha the characteristics of an only child. Samantha's mom continued to explain that she had prayed and begged God for someone, anyone to just tell her something. She just needed to know that her daughter was ok. 

    That day I made a choice. We are all given choices every single day and we are the only ones who can use what we have to help others, even if it is just to bring peace and comfort for a moment. Will you have the courage to face the odds and walk in the truth?

Please feel free to email me with your stories and I will post them on here (you may remain anonymous if you'd like). Also become a follower and post comments on the stories and feel free to share your stories that way as well. There are so many people who need to know they are not alone and are trying to understand what they are dealing with. Keep Asking. -Britt

About the blog

Hi Everyone,
   I just wanted to take a moment and explain why I created this blog. I have been searching for years to find people like me. I know they are out there and on many different levels, but I am still having a very hard time getting several opinions and experiences together. This is not a sight for discussion; however opposing opinions have a right to be posted so long as they are not out of spite, immaturity or lacking in common sense. :) With that said, I want to give you a general idea of who I am. I am not someone who was born necessarily with the ability to speak to people who are no longer living among us. This is something that happened to me about 3 years ago when I was searching for answers after several members of my family started passing away in car accidents. Now it is an ever-growing part of my life that I am trying to understand and control. I would like to be able to use this gift to help people. But I want to hear your stories too. What have you experienced? What have you learned? What equipment (if any) do you find helpful and how long have you noticed your gifts?
  Keep Asking. -Britt