Wednesday, November 5, 2008


A lingering memory is sitting in the kitchen of my second cousin, Maureen, in a suburb of Dublin. It's late and she, her sister and I have just returned from a dinner with my two sisters who have stayed in the city.  We have all just met for the first time this evening and now find ourselves discussing experiences with souls that have crossed over. 
I'm listening as Eileen tells of an encounter her daughter, who's grandfather had just died, had in the recent past. She was driving home through a rural area, at two in the morning,  knowing she couldn't make it home because she was about to run out of gas. She was extremely mad at herself for putting herself in this position. She was in an unfamiliar area but knew everything was closed in the small towns she passed. 
She begins to panic knowing it would not be good to be stranded in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere. She decides to pray for help. Just then she hears her grandfathers voice and turns to see him sitting in the seat next to her.  It strikes her as odd that he has his seat belt on.  He calmly instructs her to take the next turn, proceeds to give very clear directions and though she can see no sign of a town coming she listens.  Sure enough after a few minutes they arrive at a gas station.  As she pulls up to the pump a man pulls up behind her in a fire truck.  He gets out and comes up to her car to ask if he can help.  She is relieved beyond measure as she tells him her situation.  
As he is filling up the the car he tells her he has no idea what woke him up in the middle of the night but that it felt like someone was rocking him.  There was an insistent feeling that he come down to the station to put gas in the truck right away. He felt he had no choice but to listen. 


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