BLOG PIC IA spontaneous road trip with some girlfriends took me to a cemetary near Memphis, Tn.  I found it interesting walking up and down some of the rows and reading the names and dates of history but it was hot, muggy and buggy and even though I knew they were wanting a big experience of a ghost or something,  I was ready to go find some air conditioning.

I lagged behind a bit under a big shady oak tree while they wandered, taking pictures, citing off names and dates of babies, wives and husbands.   A slight breeze moved the leaves.  It became a bit surreal.  I closed my eyes for a moment to breathe it in.  In the same moment, the breeze turned to air conditioning…what?  I opened my eyes and there stood a young man, probably 17 years old.  He was dirty and his clothes were tattered.  There was an earthy, burnt smell.  He was moving around me, saying “…maam, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please forgive me, I’m sorry…”.  Of course I was startled and caught off guard.  I told him it was ok but he kept repeating over and over that he didn’t mean to, please forgive him, he was sorry…

Meanwhile, my friends had come over to where I was.  They commented on how cool it was under the tree.  I told them what was happening.  One of them had gone around to the other side of the tree and into a small, wrought iron fenced in family plot.  She told me to come look at the headstone of a young man dated from the Civil War.  He followed me still begging for forgiveness.  There was a small flag stuck in the ground in front of this stone.  “That must be him” she said.  All of a sudden, something brushed through my legs.  “Woow!”  I yelped!  Then my friend whispered, “look at the flag…”.  It was flapping with no wind. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” he persisted.  Realizing what his story might have been having been a part of the Civil War at such a young age, I told him it was ok.  He just looked at me for a moment.  “Really?” he asked.  “It wasn’t your fault.  It’s ok.”  I said.  “Ohhh, thank you!  Thank you!” he sang.  Then he moved towards the far side of the tree, to the edge of where the branches reached.  What seemed to be rays of sun light beaming through the tree’s shade simply absorbed him. 

Ohhhh my!  It was so beautiful!  Was this “The Light” that everyone talks about seeing when it’s time to cross over?  It was Amazing!  It was white but had every color imaginable!  It had music; a song but nothing I’ve ever heard!  I was trying to describe what was happening to my friends but none of the words were doing any justice to the experience.  They walked with me to where the light was.  “Can you see it?”  I asked.  “Can you hear it?”  They just shook their heads.   I slowly reached my hand out and touched it.  There is nothing to describe the sensation.  I cupped my hands together like I was catching water from a waterfall.  It was everything for all of the sences and more.  It was serene, electric, fire, ice, wet, dry… everything of anything!  Love.  Not kiss on the mouth love but unconditional, inside the soul kind of Love.  My girlfriends each raised a hand to feel where my hands were.  “I can feel it!” they said.  It was cool and vibrating.  We stood there, hands in the air, until it was gone.

That was probably one of the most profound experiences I have ever had.  I have to admit that for a moment I was worried that if when I touched the light it would take me like the young man when he walked into it.  I now know that it wasn’t for me; it wasn’t my “Light”.  What if everyone could see all “The Lights” that came for the souls leaving this world.  What if that moment of walking through a cool (or warm) spot where the hairs on your skin stood up at the same time you felt like you just had a heartfelt embrace was really you walking through someone’s light?   Wouldn’t it be something?  I have a peace down in the deepest part of my essence that when it is my time, my own ‘Light” will be even more amazing because it will be there for Me.


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