Which Saint was there to greet spirits resurrected via a smoke alarm at the garden centre?!

24 09 2011

Over the eleven years I have been helping lost spirits to go home I’ve experienced many ways in which they bring attention to their plights, but most common of all is through all forms of electricity.  I regularly get asked to look at people’s houses because their televisions turn themselves on ‘by themselves’ for example, or the lights flicker or the microwave or radio ‘turns itself on’.  Other ways are through house alarms, smoke alarms, car alarms and even the use of four way flashers.  Of course spirit is energy and energy is a form of electricity.

What happened yesterday was attention-seeking on a big scale though!

Whilst enjoying a cuppa in the outdoor cafe area of our local garden centre, my nurse friend questioned me about the ECT I had experienced many moons ago (electro-convulsive therapy) for post-natal depression.  I told her how successful it had been in my case, returning me to my sanity after hundreds of earthbound spirits had tagged on to my low physical state (I had heart disease at the time, unbeknown to anyone and had just given birth) which turned my experience of post-natal depression into a living nightmare.  Not only did ‘they’ mock me when I was at my lowest (I could hear them) but I even felt the bony finger of an old man poke me in the back one night and as you can imagine I was terrified.  It was only when I was better that I realised he was only trying  to get help for himself, stuck in his own pergatory between life and death. 

As we discussed the fact that I was convinced that the ECT is what cured me of this ‘possession’ – as I believe the electric shocks allowed the spirits to drift away from me and up into the light – the loud fire alarm of the garden centre started shrieking and we we were all ushered out into the car park!  At the time, however, I didn’t ‘make the connection’.  Strangely enough, while we waited with all the other customers and bemused staff in the windy carpark (it hadn’t been a fire practice but was due to some ‘electrical fault’)   I noticed a red sports car leave the car park with a large ‘urn’ of white flowers on the back and remarked to my friend, almost without thinking, ‘that looks like part of a courtege!’ (a funeral)  A few minutes later my friend pointed out that the grey haired gentleman standing behind us, clutching the cards he hadn’t had a chance to pay for as yet, was the senior Coroner of Nottingham.  Another connection with death!

As we  walked back through the main entrance into the garden centre, however, I walked straight into what I can only describe as a ‘soup’ of lost souls.  A huge swirling mass of them congregated and waiting for help!  We hurried to the Ladies and while my friend answered her call of nature I took out my dowser and moved them on, one by one.  The queue was inpatient (the spirits that is, not the usual queue for the Ladies – at least not just yet!) and my friend could hardly believe the speed and crazy directions my dowser was flying as I passed each one through to the Other Side, counting out loud as I did so, getting to 75, 76, 77 before someone came in and I dived inside the spare cubicle for privicy.  I am always aware, however, that that person may be desperate, so have become adept at ‘pretending’ to go about my business (well I am, but not in the conventional way!  I have to be very careful not to hit the side of the cubicle with my flying missile!) and flushing the loo before coming back out, just to add authenticity ha ha!  The queue of spirits was still pushing at the door to heaven and I was beginning to feel quite drained (just as a light bulb might flicker when the electrical current is being interfered with) and I had reached a total of 350

My friend, concerned by my sudden change in demeanor, suggested we go and find a seat in the furniture department but I pointed out that there were security cameras everywhere and I couldn’t sit whirling my crystal in public!!!  I was getting more and more giddy as the urgency of the rest of the spirits was working through me and I was desperate to let them through….She pulled me out into the plant section and we scanned for a suitable place….The rose garden!  Perfect.  That morning I had sniffed in the heady scent of some beautiful old English roses in out front garden when I’d filled up the bird feeders and suddenly realised that they were my mother-in-laws favourite flower – and TODAY was her birthday. She would have been 93.

Sheila's roses

Sheila's roses

The circular Rose Garden contained several benches and we found one out of sight of any cameras and I sat down, eager to continue with my mission.  All around the pergola with the roof on were more beautiful roses and it felt just like a garden in heaven as the second batch moved over, some in huge batches, others one at a time.  There was a double pink rose hanging just above my head and I pulled it down to take a whiff of its intoxicating scent, as I still clung to my dowser.

“I wonder what it is called?” I asked my friend, who dived down behind the bench on which we sat and studied the small ticket on the ground.  She rejoined me with a huge grin on her face:

“You’ll never believe this…” she said.  “It’s called Spirit of Freedom!!!

A total of 740 spirits had been gathered from ‘East to West’, including from other garden centres around the country, from poor souls who had suffered electrocution (!), victims of fires, animals (my friend had also asked if animals had spirits as she felt, for the first time in her life, that a rescue dog of her sisters had one!  Uncannily, his name was ‘FLY’) and bizarrely, I had seen a ‘St Bartholomew’ welcoming a group of ‘oriental’ souls home.   Neither my friend nor myself knew anything about this Saint but I have just discovered he is also known as Nathanael and is one of the disciples to whom Jesus appeared at the Sea of Galilee ‘after the Resurrection’.

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