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The Roses and Thorns of Life

People ask how mediums speak with the Spirit Realm.   There are various ways of communication… can hear, one can sense touch or smell, even taste.  One can take on the physical ailments of the departed……though very uncomfortable, the sensations of pain or injury pass once one clears herself of the communication.

For instance, there are certain buildings in Gettysburg, where my home is, that once I enter, I feel the point of pain where a soldier was wounded.  When I leave the building, the pain subsides instantly.

The easiest way I can describe a spirit speaking…….for both humans and animals, is as if one is reading to oneself.
The reader hears the words in her head, the thoughts come through in some magickal connection of the eyes and brain……Perhaps in mediumship, that communication extends to a connection with the soul.

I will see images, sense feelings, perceive thoughts as if…

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A couple of weeks ago, I was having a rather sleepless night and lay in bed with my eyes closed, lying on my back.

I heard what sounded like an exhalation……………like a sigh one makes when letting all the air out one’s lungs.

Suddenly, I felt a breeze blow across my face……completely covering my face, and then, suddenly, it was gone.  It wasn’t unpleasant, it was like a summer wind blowing or a breeze coming through an open window.

Many times, my better half is lying pretty close to my face, and sometimes his snoring breath gets too close to my mouth.

I opened my eyes and was just about to chastise him for breathing on me again, when I saw he was turned completely opposite, his back towards me.

He wasn’t sleeping either.   I asked, “Did you just turn, were you facing me a minute ago, and did you just breathe on me?”

“No,” he said.   “Did you hear anything, a sigh, like somebody breathing out?”   “No,” he answered.

It was a pretty chilly night, there was no fan, no air condition, no heater in the room either.   The windows were all closed, there was no source of moving air anywhere………except from the mouth of a ghost.

Why this spirit decided to just blow over my face, I do not know.   Needless to say, the rest of my night was sleepless.   I have not been visited by him or her since.   But then again, visits come when you least expect them.

I have many strange things happen to me at my farmhouse.   My first night there, many spirits came to visit.   I write of them in my book, “The Returning Ones, a Medium’s Memoirs.”    Most things now happen in broad daylight.   Ghosts don’t have to show up in the dark; you can find them in the day as well.

Have a Haunted Halloween,

Shirl   Book cover The Returning Ones

Yesterday, I walked the grounds of historic Bloomfield Cemetery, in Bloomfield, NJ.   The cemetery is unknown by many, forgotten, where soldiers of the Revolutionary, Spanish American, Civil, and World Wars I and II reside in slumber together.

Others of note rest there as well.

One in particular is William Bradbury.

Let me tell you his story………..

In the 1860’s, Anna Warner was a best selling novelist.  She lived almost at the doorstep of West Point Military Academy, where rumors of impending war swirled.  She taught Bible studies to cadets, and often wondered if many would see their final days on the battlefield.

She wrote with her sister Susan……one novel in particular, “Say and Seal” captivated the country for a brief time.   Its popularity faded, except for one short passage.

A character recited a short poem at the bedside of a dying child in the story:  “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so”…………

These words brought the country to tears.  These words were recited in churches, on the battlefields, and in homes.

Enter William Bradbury….an accomplished composer of the time.  He had achieved fame with “Sweet Hour of Prayer,” “He Leadeth Me,” and “On Christ the Solid Rock.”

So moved by Anna’s poetry, he wrote music to her words.

The song echoed among soldiers in both uniforms; it became a powerful message of the time.

Now, many know Bradbury, but few remember Anna.

I paused at Bradbury’s grave yesterday; a woman stood before it, singing the entire song quietly.  I wonder if she knew of Anna.  A rose was lying on the ground several feet away from his stone.  I picked it up and placed it on the ledge.   The song Jesus Loves Me has personal meaning for me, as it is one I have often    sung with my own grandchild.

Today, a rose lingers on William’s grave, but it lingers for Anna as well.  Whoever shall read this blog, will remember you both.



(background information obtained from a webpage of Norma Lee Liles)P1100257P1100258P1100259P1100252

If you are reading this blog, then you might have read my book, “The Returning Ones, A Medium’s Memoirs.”   It chronicles the first years of living in a historic Gettysburg farmhouse.

As the years and seasons pass, ghostly hellos echo through the walls of my home.

Not shouts, thankfully, I chose a home with benevolent energy.   Believe me, there are some in town that possess a darkness in their beams.

But little hellos, things moving, things misplaced, malfunctions of electronic and battery devices.   Just hellos from time to time saying, “We are still here, don’t forget us.”

Just this past week, a toilet seat was the messenger.   I put the seat down; I went back in the house, the seat was up.   Maybe a soldier needed to use it.   Who know why they choose the objects they do to make us shake our heads, make us stare in puzzlement?    A toilet seat seems an unlikely place, but, then again, they knew I would be sure to notice it.

It’s hard not to notice when a heavy item flies down off a shelf; I have had that happen to me.   But toilet seats are subtle.   It is as if the ghosts are challenging our memories, seeing how astute we are………..just wanting us to sharpen our senses to the parallel realm that intersects each of our paths every day.

As Halloween draws nearer, activity heightens around town.   I believe it is because all those that visit have sharpened their senses to this realm and are more aware of subtle messengers.   Not everyone has something flown across the room at them, but most will experience a power drainage to cameras, a bristle of hair on their necks and arms, a feeling of heaviness in the air.

Blessings to all those not at peace in realms that reach out to us every day………. Book cover The Returning Ones