The other evening, Bob (Bob Wollam, the farmer) was telling me about the farmhouse we are living in. It was built in 1780. That's right! Have you ever lived in a house that old? When he took it over there were no bathrooms or heating in the house. (As it stands now, the only heating is a gas fireplace in the living room.) It is a beautiful house, inside and out: wood floors, solid doors in slightly off-set frames, unusually cut angles and formatting you just don't see anymore. It feels old, and I like that. In fact, I have sort of a ghost story....
October 1 was an extremely gusty night, the first winds of Fall. I awoke that night because I thought I felt a cat on my bed. There was no cat, but when I looked to the bedroom door I could have sworn I saw the silouhette of a person exiting the room and closing the door. I was so sure of what I'd seen that I went out on the staircase landing and called "Who's there", trying to sound confident so they would know that I saw them, and reveal themself. No one was there. No one! My roommate sat up and said she had been hearing sounds for a couple hours. It was so creepy; it was the most I have ever feared or believed in ghosts. I prayed, gathered the Holy Spirit, my guardian angle, and St Michael, and fell back asleep. If it weren't that the wind was blowing so hard, I would have been hard pressed to convince myself that nothing paranormal had occurred.
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"Do not be afraid to allow yourself to be personally and profoundly known, so that the love within you that you receive from God, may be known in you and experienced through you."
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