In my spare time I told you I am a medium. I say spare time, but really this means all the time. For my spare time I devote to attending my circle of development in clairvoyance and trance. And most weekends you will see me travelling around the East Midlands giving demonstrations of mediumship to Spiritualist Churches or centres, sometimes with members of my group whom are called fledglings as they flex their wings using their gifts.
It is wonderful to be able to bring evidence that loves ones are still alive all be it on the other side of the divide. And I love to get feed back that what you have said confirms undeniably to the person who is receiving the message that the evidence you have brought is from their nearest and dearest.
Last night I received such proof.. I couldn’t sleep yet again, so browsed around my friends spaces.. And there was my message,…., my proof. In a lovely poem..
I had been told a week ago that I would find such proof. That my late Father would bring me a Message for Christmas, and would use his calling card. His calling card being Ho Ho Ho!.. As he would always ring and play Santa even though I was all grown with a grown family.. It would be our shared family joke., as he would disguise his voice asking if I’d been a good girl…
I’m still shedding tears of Joy that he found a way to send me his lovely Christmas message through my dear friend Lynn’s Poems.. Whom I’ve already shared this story with.
Christmas is such a poignant time for families whose loved ones are no longer there to share the festivities..
But please know that I know from personal evidence and that of others that our loved ones who have transcended to the realm of love and light can find ways to communicate to us through the divide.
That they are only ever a thought away.
This verse is one a friend bought me years ago, which I have always treasured. It was written by Henrey Scott Holland who lived between 1847-1918.. He was the Canon of St Pauls Catherdral.
“DEATH is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
I am I, and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other that we still are.
Call me by my old familiar name,
Speak to me in the easy way, which you always used.
Put no difference in your tone,
Wear no false air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Let my name be ever the household word it always was,
Let it be spoken without effort, without trace of a shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was; there is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near,