I do what I do because of my mother.
And it all started when I was nine years old after encountering my first ghost.
It happened after school one day shortly after I got home.
I was a latchkey kid so I was the only one in the house until my sister arrived shortly after.
My after school routine was to come home, make a snack and sit at the kitchen table doing my homework before I plopped down in front of the tv.
But this day was a little different. I started doing my homework and immediately heard some footsteps coming down the hallway. We had carpet in the hall and I could hear the sound of shoes shuffling against the carpet. The sound ended at the hall where it meets the kitchen.
Someone else was in the house.
My back was to the hall and I was too terrified to turn around and see who it was.
Luckily, the house phone was mounted on the wall right next to me. (This was 1981). I reached up and frantically called my mother at work to tell her what happened.
She told me to run outside and wait for her there until she arrived.
I waited outside - shivering - of course I did not stop to grab my jacket before fleeing.
My mother rushed home and told me to wait by the front door while she searched the house. She came back to say the house was empty and it didn’t appear like anyone had broken in.
I cried repeating, “I know I heard someone”-I have always been a terrible liar so my mother knew I was telling the truth.
I had heard someone in the hall.
She proceeded to call my dad and tell him she would bring me back to work with her.
What happened next changed my life forever.
On our drive back to work, my mother explained to me very matter-a-factly that I heard a ghost, that our house was haunted, and compared it to a hotel where ghosts and spirits came and went freely.
Next to Michael Jackson releasing his Thriller album, that was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me. (I was a HUGE MJ fan, so you understand how big that was for me.)
I was fascinated, completely in awe and wasn’t scared anymore.
And I certainly wasn’t freaked out to go home.
I THOUGHT THAT WAS THE COOLEST THING I HAVE EVER HEARD!
Turns out, our house was super haunted but not in a Amityville horror kind of way.
For example, one night while in bed, I suddenly woke up for no apparent reason, and saw a spinning disc of white light. It spun down through the ceiling, hovered in the air for a brief moment then disappeared back up through the ceiling.
Another night, I woke again and looked to the doorway of my bedroom and saw the hand of a black woman reach for my door. When she realized I saw her, she quickly pulled her hand away.
I wasn’t scared when I saw the disc of light or the black woman in my doorway. These incidents didn’t make me afraid and neither did the time when I found a little boy in his pajamas in, yet again, the magical, mystical hallway in the middle of the night. (Nighttime was a very common time to experience such things).
The little boy seemed to be either lost while astral traveling or newly dead.
We never solved that one. But we were able to get some psychic intel on the black woman in my room.
My mother’s intuitive friend said she was a ghost named Gertrude, had been a slave and was drawn to my room because she liked the rose patterned wallpaper.
I had numerous experiences with spirits in the Ghost Hotel. Living there opened a door to another world. Like Narnia, but sans the wardrobe, animals and snow.
The world of spirits is just as real as the physical world.
My mother could have responded to these experiences with fear, denial and all sorts of negative behavior.
My mother grew up in a tiny, poor, rural Catholic town in North Western Kentucky in the 50’s and 60’s . Her mother was of Welsh and Irish descent and her father was half Cherokee.
But her family referred to him as “ that dirty Indian.”
He died when she was 3 years old. You get the picture...
She could have shut me down by saying it was my imagination or become concerned that I had some mental or emotional imbalance. She could have played the religion card and sought help from a priest or pastor.
BUT SHE DIDN’T…
She realized early on that she possessed intuitive “psychic” gifts and abilities.
Like seeing and hearing spirits.
But her family considered these gifts to be threatening and of the “Devil.”
Even though my mother felt rejected, she never denied these gifts and abilities.
In fact, she did the opposite…
When she saw them appear in my sister and I, she nurtured them instead.
We embraced our experiences because my mother allowed them to be natural parts of us. Acceptable. Valuable. Real. Which they are.
Communicating with the Divine is as natural as breathing.
I learned a great deal from watching my mother cultivate her intuitive gifts through books, meditation groups and practicing “seeing and hearing.” She really had an amazing ability to translate esoteric concepts into digestible chunks.
Even though she was self taught, and received very little community support, she managed to become a skilled healer and teacher over the years.
Her strength became my strength...
Her gifts became my abilities...
Her teaching became my path...
I am passionate about assisting others in cultivating a deep and unlimited connection to their Divine Self by developing their intuitive abilities.
All because of a ghost and a little help from my mother.
I would love to hear from you. What part of this story really spoke to you and why?
Please share what resonated with you in the comments below.
Thank you for reading and being part of why I do what I do.