Merry Christmas from The Afterlife

 

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The Christmas holidays can be one of the saddest times of the year for millions of grieving people.  People who have lost a loved one or suffered a broken relationship often struggle with holiday blues and depression.  It’s a time of year that I’ve often dreaded as a single parent with no real support system since my parent’s deaths in 1991.  For years, I’ve felt as if I was wandering through life half-blind and almost hollow as today’s dating culture brought one disappointment after another.  How could a believer who has spent a lifetime in paranormal research arrive at such a place of confusion?  After all, I have witnessed paranormal phenomena all my life, but at those moments of intense grief and suffering, I was no different than anyone else.  I needed a sign.

I’ve heard countless stories from grieving people who have experienced “visits” from their loved ones.  Today, people often reach out to me and tell me of a recent loved one’s death.  And during those moments when they are telling me their stories, I often catch myself interrupting with “that’s very common”.

Their raised eyebrows and sudden pause prompts me to explain that our departed loved ones often linger for a short while before entering the Light so that they can “gift” us with a sign.  A sign letting us know that life never ends.  It simply transforms.

Just three weeks ago, I sat down to have a Thanksgiving meal at a local church in my hometown.  I sat down next to an ordained minister who was still suffering from his son’s death earlier this year.  I noticed his expressionless face as he ate in silence, and my empath abilities allowed me to witness some of his pain.  As I finished my dinner, my thoughts carried me back in time to the prayer vigil that was held outside the minister’s home, and I remembered seeing pictures that captured a portal of light beaming straight down from the sky in spite of the night hour.  I remembered the minister telling us about his young son talking to “invisible strangers” just days before he lay down and died, and I knew that at that moment, the veil was getting thinner for the child thus enabling him to see spirits from the afterlife.

Just a few years ago, I lost a cherished friend who ministered to me and loved my children as her own.  She was by all accounts, a mother and grandmother that we had not known since my own mother’s death many years before.  She and I shared a mutual appreciation for the paranormal and a firm belief in the afterlife.  She laughingly told me on numerous occasions that she would “visit” me if she died first.  Then on November 23rd, 2010, she crossed over.  I remember later that night and after a day of horrific grief, I lay down and finally closed my eyes.  A few hours later, I was awakened by a strong odor that smelled just like a Thanksgiving dish of chicken and dressing.  The aroma was so thick that I wondered where it could be coming from.  I sat up in bed and wiped my eyes.  Had I left the oven on before going to bed?  But there wasn’t anything in the oven.  I sat still for a moment and looked around the room.  A strange sensation overwhelmed me as if I was not alone, and then I realized what was happening.  My beloved friend had paid me a “visit” in a way that only I would understand.  Just days before her death, my friend promised to bake a pan of chicken and dressing for my family’s Thanksgiving meal.  As the aroma faded from the room, I whispered her name and thanked her for letting me know she was okay.

If you find yourself longing for a sign this holiday season, don’t be surprised when it shows up.  Stay alert.  Divine signs and messages from our loved ones are abundant and surround us daily.

Here are three most common communication methods through which signs appear:

  1. Dreams-probably one of the most frequent signs is through a “visitation” dream.  If you’ve had a dream in which a departed loved one communicated with you, do not dismiss it.  In some cases, departed loved ones have actually served as messengers to warn of impending doom or a significant life event.
  2. Music- Hearing a song that holds significance for you and a loved one or hearing a song with lyrics that seem to answer questions you’ve had may actually be a sign from Heaven.
  3. Chance encounters-Sometimes the universe aligns us with people who unknowingly deliver messages through something they say or do that reveals a connection to a departed loved one.

Although there are many other ways in which we may receive signs, there is one constant truth that will always be present.  Regardless of the method or form in which it is delivered, a sign that is meant for you will have an indisputable significance that’s always linked directly to you.  Be observant this holiday season.  And remember, life never ends and those strange feelings you keep having just may be your departed loved one sending you a “Merry Christmas” from The Afterlife.

elegant christmas background with place for new year text invita

To learn more about L. Sydney Fisher’s paranormal research and books, check out

https://www.LSydneyFisher.com.

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Daddy’s Girl~ A Christmas Memoir

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L. Sydney Fisher and her father, Landon C. Fisher about a year before he passed away.

This time of year is difficult for so many people who have lost loved ones.  As the holiday approaches, I’m wishing you happy memories that fill your heart with joy rather than sadness.  It is my sincere belief that our loved ones who have passed on want us to be living happy and prosperous lives, and I truly believe that they are nearer than you think!

I hope you enjoy the following memoir written some years ago.  It was a 2nd place winner in a local writing contest.  Merry Christmas from my house to yours!  

Daddy’s Girl

I’ll never forget one Christmas Eve at K-Mart in Memphis, Tennessee.  The stores were open late for last-minute shopping, and my dad and stepmom had rushed out to pick up some last-minute items on a Christmas list that had already surpassed even Santa. My eyes were wide with excitement and hope as I eyed the toys on the shelves still waiting to be bought.  My daddy hobbled along beside me, one of his legs being shorter than the other as we walked up and down the aisles.

Suddenly, something caught my eye.  I stopped and stared at the polished white boots and shiny silver wheels.

“Daddy, look!” I exclaimed.  “Roller skates!  Will you buy me these for Christmas, please?  And they are even on sale.”  I begged.

Daddy never said a word.  He picked up the skate and inspected the price.  “Gee, I’m sorry, Honey.  I don’t have enough money with me.  Maybe Santa will bring you some next year.”

My heart sank as I wandered off to a different aisle.  Unknowing to me, my daddy would somehow manage to get those skates to the check-out stand without being seen.

The following morning at 6:30 a.m., I jumped out of bed and rushed to the den.  As I stood staring at the mounds of presents beneath the tree, I noticed a brown paper sack sitting off to itself.  I tore the bag open and buried my face inside.  The sound of crinkling paper filled my ears as I stared at the shiny wheels and white polished boots that I had longed for just a few hours before.  I squealed with delight as I pulled the roller skates out of the sack.  And my dad stood watching me, a beaming smile of satisfaction on his face.

It’s true that I was spoiled, pampered, and treasured as a little girl loved by her daddy. Through the years, he patiently watched as I wore more make-up than Tammy Faye Baker and dressed in clothes much too tight for little girls to wear.  He tolerated my strong will with a soft disapproval and a determination to teach me Christian morals. There was rarely a need for spankings from him since disappointing him would have been more punishment than he could have possibly administered.

A few years later as a budding young woman, I proudly watched my daddy tell the nurses about Jesus as he lay in his hospital bed hooked to feeding tubes and IV’s laced with morphine.  When not in a drug-induced sleep, he spoke with conviction about the strength Christ had showered on him during his battle with cancer.  As “Daddy’s Little Girl”, I bathed his face with a cool cloth and fed him cold, wet ice chips to soothe his dry mouth.  I stood in awe and basked in his spirit each time this 85 pounds of flesh and bones mustered the strength to tell me I was his “sweetie pie”.

As a grown woman, I envision hugging my daddy each Christmas, and I never fail to recall the words he instilled in my soul so many times during my childhood when he said, “You know, someday you’re going to make something of yourself and be known as somebody really special.”

He fed me with encouragement, nourished me with love, and bathed me in righteous teachings that have continued to inspire me.  If “Children Live What They Live”, as the saying goes, then the daddies who teach us about life and living such as mine must have the halos of angels about their heads.  For today when I reminisce, I must say, Dear Daddy, I was somebody special the day God chose me to be your girl.”

Love,

Sydney

Crossing Over~A Bridge Between Two Worlds

A cross forms a bridge over the cliff into a bright landscape.
A Bridge Between Two Worlds

The following essay was recognized and awarded for ranking #58 in Personal Memoir/Essay out of 19,000 entries, Writer’s Digest Annual Competition. (2001)  Modified, July/2015

I wrote this some years ago…but I thought you might enjoy reading it today.  One night when I was driving home from a babysitting job, I lost control of my car and crashed over a bridge into water some 30 to 40 feet below.  With no street lights around, I was surrounded by total darkness.  This moment in April, 1986 changed my life…for the rest of my life.

A Bridge Between Two Worlds

My eyes flew open.  I frantically reached for the handle to roll down the car window as the vehicle flooded with muddy water.  I didn’t realize that every window in the car had shattered upon impact.  Splinters of glass covered by head and I could feel tiny, sharp slivers of glass protruding from my face.  Sand swirled around my eyes causing them to sting and burn.  I hung upside down, my legs pinned under the steering wheel.  The car had flipped as it went over the side of the bridge.  Suddenly, I realized there was no way out.  I was overwhelmed with despair and sadness as I realized that I wasn’t going to live even though I struggled, suffocating before my lungs filled with water.

Flashes of light darted in and out of my mind.  Scenes of my childhood zipped through my mind like a movie reel.  Scenes from my childhood days until the age of fourteen.  Then suddenly it ceased. My body began to feel limp and lifeless as life quickly evaporated.  It felt much like the physical sensation of fainting as my soul was sucked from my body.  A vacuum pulling the spirit away into another realm.  A realm where I floated as if by magic.  I stood suspended above the vehicle and stared at the once shiny, new Oldsmobile upside down in a deep, muddy creek some forty feet below the old farm bridge.

Praise The Lord

The night sky was black except for a bright, shining full moon until suddenly a massive light burst forth surrounding me.  The light consumed me and forced me to close my eyes for a moment.  I stood bathed in the light, void of any earthly clothes or possessions.  It was an indescribable canvas before me.  A pathway painted with light.  The light was pure love, but it was a love beyond any earthly experience.  It was the love of a mother for her child multiple times over.  It was an unconditional love, with no expectations or assumptions.  As I stood paralyzed by its glory, I became confused for a moment.  Moments were seconds or milliseconds in the time scheme of things.  I turned and looked back at the car in the creek.  I thought about my loved ones and wondered if it was really meant for me to die at the young age of sixteen.  Something urged me to return.  There was something that I had not accomplished.

I was stunned by a loud but warm, male voice that echoed around me instructing me to “just walk toward the light”.  I swung back around and faced the light.  The voice repeated the instructions again.  “Just walk toward the light.”  It was so tempting.  The love and peace in the light was so great, I yearned to know more.  And then just as quickly as the voice spoke, the light disappeared.  In a flash, I was back in my body fighting to hold my breath for just a few seconds longer.

I felt my legs sliding free from the steering column.  I floated on my right side away from the driver’s seat.  The headrest and roof of the car had caved in locking me in a near death position, but at that moment I miraculously floated through an opening in one of the windows.  I opened my eyes and saw a light beaming into the water as I neared the top, aching for a breath of air.  The water splashed as I surfaced and I gasped and coughed taking in large gulps of air.  I sobbed and stared at the moon in bewilderment as I began to swim toward the creek’s edge.  My shoulder ached as I realized that it might be dislocated.

The creek bank now posed another challenge since it was more than 30 feet high and was nothing more than red, clay dirt.  There was not any handy tree branches or roots growing out of the side of the embankment for me to grab hold of.  I dug my fingers into the mud pulling my 128 pound body up the steep incline.  My fingernails peeled and bled as I pulled myself to safety.  The red clay hid the blood trickling down my hands, but it could not disguise the pain as my fingernails ripped and tore with each struggle.  After finally reaching the top of the bank, I lay in the farm field and grieved.  The top of my thighs throbbed with pain.  I massaged my legs beneath the wet jeans and felt the ten inch long welts from the blow to the steering column.

I slowly stood up and began my half-mile walk back to a fellow church member’s house.  I was once again surrounded by darkness since there were no lights on the country road, and the only company that I had was the sound of barking dogs in the distance.  I stumbled into the yard and limped up the porch steps. I knocked on the door.  Martha opened the door and gasped upon seeing my blood stained face and my sweater ripped to shreds from tree branches that penetrated the car windows as it crashed into the creek.  Martha refused to give me a mirror until my insistent begging finally convinced her that I needed to examine my mouth.  I placed the mirror in front of me and opened my mouth to remove the remnants of muddy leaves and a leech that had attached itself to the inside of my bottom lip.  A few hours later after a trip to the hospital, I fought sleep as I battled the sound of sand swirling around my ears during the crash.  And attachments unlike the leech had already began moving in.

Two people communicating by telepathy. Digital illustration.

It wasn’t until several years after my accident that I discovered the impact near death experiences have on people like me.  I was doing some research on psychic phenomena, a subject I’ve studied for many years, when I learned that survivors of these experiences typically report an increase in psychic abilities.  I was shocked and relieved to learn of this new revelation since I seemed to have an increase in what I called “weird” insights.  These insights came to me over the years with increasing regularity, sometimes on a daily basis.  Although I have always thought of myself as being in tune with the supernatural, it wasn’t until this accident that I seriously began to question what happened that night.

Over the years I have learned through frequent research trips to the local library and through conversations with like-minded people, that the soul we possess, capable of travel to another dimension, is simply an energy field.  This same energy field is known as an aura composed of bright light surrounding our bodies in hues of the primary colors.  It is capable of picking up both positive and negative vibrations in the physical world, as well as the spiritual world.  According to this research, I must have inherited a heightened sense of awareness while I was near death.

There have been times when I have physically felt the aftermath of premonitions.  One day while sitting at work, I suddenly felt a crushing blow to my head and chest area.  Having sensed for several days that something dreadful was imminent, I realized the crushing sensation must be from a near future accident.  Approximately three weeks later, I was involved in a serious car wreck that left me with cuts and bruises to my head and airbag burns to my wrists.  The car was totaled.

How do I view this uncanny talent?  At times, I am not sure.  It is certainly frightening and unnerving from time to time.  On the other hand, it’s a blessing.  I have experienced so many insights that there are too many to mention here.    Are all premonitions only meant to serve as warnings?  I don’t think so.

That bridge changed my life in several ways, but most importantly it changed my perception of what life really is.  It solidified my belief in a hereafter.  It also brought with it a realization of the treasures that surround me everyday in the physical world.  I am no longer scared or ignorant of the unexplained.  Nor am I critical of those who trust me enough to share their own extraordinary experiences.

Over the years, I have learned to accept a heightened sense of awareness.  I have learned to give in to life’s promptings and follow the yellow brick road.  Although there have been times when I wasn’t sure where that road would take me, I developed a soulful peace that I can thank the Light for while I was on that bridge.  For it is when we ignore that nagging feeling, that the real doom prevails.  Sometimes it is not always a warning that we must heed, but a message we should grasp, or a path we should follow.

Praying to the Divine Spirit