The greatest mystery of life is life “after death.” It is an intractable question, although many people know the answer. A multitude of men, from jesters to holy men, have arguments, and listeners of souls ready to hear them all. One such is John Edwards, a psychic medium who reported receiving messages from “the opposite” during his week.
I watched this show after many months with great skepticism. My belief system can be called “weak but hopeful”. The church had not attended for the boy, except perhaps at Easter. I don’t find churches “comforting” in the way that many do. But I have a firm belief in the spiritual system and even greater hope that there is indeed life after death.
In one show, John spoke at length about the signs he receives from his mother, in the form of white feathers usually found in the usual places. He often insists on asking for these signs when he feels the need to reconnect with her. Something in his words touched me, and I decided to try my “experience of faith”. I started talking to my deceased family every day. They told me not to “pray to God.” I spoke to my father and my grandmother and others whom I hoped would be able to listen and answer.
I am asking for a black feather. It’s not an unusual request, I admit, but I also asked that something “out of habit” be left on my front, although I wasn’t sure what I really meant by that sentence. These conversations took place over a period of about three weeks.
I found the feather when I returned from an hour drive in the afternoon. He was laying on the edge of it, tucked into the narrow space between the grass and the edge of the marble running from my driveway to my door. Plain black just the feather, but the heart resisted! I picked it up, hearing my husband saying: “Don’t bring it in the house. The birds are dirty!”. I didn’t tell him about the experiment, I stopped and explained the meaning of the feature to me. Even being the cynic that he is, he was amazed, and admitted that he couldn’t remember seeing the feathers in front of the yard, let alone lying near the house. I took the feather inside and glued it to a favorite piece of driftwood that I had sitting on a shelf, where it is today.
Was this feather a “message” from heaven? I don’t know until I die, when it will be too late to tell! But I know the fin is a comfort to me when I feel down. It is a tangible thing, and it has a more personal meaning to me than a cross or a Bible, because I specifically asked for it and received it for that request. It is a comfort to me, and I am thankful for the source. Perhaps if more people had their own “feathers”, there would be less fear of dying and more peace of mind in the world.
