Two Hours With My Deceased Mother

Today we are pleased to present Brock Leyman as our guest poster on the Paranormal/Supernatural topic. He was born in Oregon and lives there now. Brock is a 55-year-old, retired flight engineer with a major airline operating within the U.S.A.  Brock comes from a long line of airline industry employees.  His father was a Captain for 24 years with Delta, he has a brother who is currently a first officer with a major airline, two sisters were stewardesses.  He has several cousins who are mechanics or engineers with airline companies as well.  His wife Charlotte is a retired stewardess.  Brock and Charlotte are the parents of two sons.  Both sons, ironically enough, are not employed in the airline industry.   Both sons are employed by the federal government in non-aviation capacities. In his spare time, Brock loves to fly his Cessna as a private pilot to business executives in Oregon.  Both he and his wife are involved in various charities in their community.

If you have a story to share relating to the paranormal/supernatural, click HERE for details.  Also, to answer many questions, there is no charge for guest posting on the topic of the paranormal/supernatural. 

+++  Before I begin my story, I am aware of the similarities of my story to the movie A.I. by Steven Spielberg.  I'm also aware of the great skepticism that will be received of this story.  If I was in the shoes of the reader, I would be greatly skeptical also.  Some will say this was the mind playing tricks on someone who was in deep financial difficulties.  I get that, I really do.  But, I know my mind wasn't playing tricks on me.  You'll see why as the story unfolds--Brock Leyman


December 29, 2005, will go down as one of the most painful, if not the most painful events of my life.  My beloved mother, who was in perfect health at age 65, was killed in a hit and run accident at the nearby mall as she was returning a Christmas gift that was defective (toaster-oven).  It was a gift from my wife.  My wife dearly loved her mother-in-law.  So, she was saddled with misplaced guilt then and even now.  Charlotte (my wife) was inconsolable. The driver was never caught.  But, he did pay for his crime as you will also found out later.  Our entire family was beyond grief.  My mother was a rock for us all as our father had skipped out on us when I was all of eight years old.  He came back around 12 years later.  My mother forgave him.  I was never able to do that.  We found out the reason he came back after so many years was that he had terminal cancer.   I should have forgiven him as my mother correctly scolded me.  "He skipped out on me also, Brocky.  If I can forgive him, why can't you?" my mother asked.  I had no answer to that, honestly.  My mother's funeral was surreal.  It's hard to accept someone as being dead that you have known all your life.  Mother was someone that if you knew her, you just fell in love with her.  She was always concerned about me,  my two sisters and brother.  I guess what hurt the most was that none of us had the chance to say goodbye to her.  Doctors say she was killed on impact.

Life went on.  Our grief subsided somewhat.  But, the heartache was always there tucked away in the deepest recesses of our collective hearts.  My youngest sister, Liz, had to have counseling to cope with her grief.  My oldest sister, Lydia (my senior by 2 years), had to take medication for depression as I did for approximately 3 years after our mother's death.  My other brother, Carl, refused to discuss our mother's death.  It seemed Carl had a tougher time dealing with her death than any of us as he had to take 6 months leave from his job as First-Officer with an airline.  His grief was so much, he didn't trust himself in the cockpit.  But, by 2008 most of us were able to function and accept what life had dished out to us.

In 2010, I suffered a financial catastrophe (terribly bad investment) that put both my wife and me in bankruptcy.  It put a terrible strain on our marriage and, for the first time in our lives, we both discussed the unthinkable (at least for us); divorce.  I had talked Charlotte into going along with this "sure-fire investment" that turned out to be nothing more than a "bait and switch" scam.  I was humiliated, embarrassed and disgusted with myself.  How could I have been so stupid?  There is nothing anyone could say to me that I had not already said to myself.  I took every flight that I was allowed under FAA rules and regulations.  But, it wasn't enough for us to keep our home.  We filed for bankruptcy and sold our home.  Charlotte and I moved in with my sister Liz.  We were going to try to move into an apartment.  But, Liz has this guest house that is attached to her huge home by a brick corridor.  The guest house has all the amenities of a really nice apartment.  All we had to do was pay our share of utilities.  So, I thought I was starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I was completely wrong.   Two weeks after we moved into my sister's guest house, Charlotte informed me she had decided to move in with her own sister.  She was also was going to consult with a lawyer for a formal separation.  I was devastated.  No amount of pleading did any good.  Charlotte said she needed to think about her future with me.  She couldn't do that living with me in my sister's guest house.  There wasn't much I could say about her leaving.  She lost a lot of money on that investment after I assured her it was a "slam dunk."   She loved me.  But, she needed space to think.  After she left, I fell into a very deep, dark place.  Saying I was depressed would not be accurate.  It was far more than that.

It was a Saturday night.  I had been drinking most of the day with friends I had invited over.  They all tried to assure me that my financial situation would improve, that Charlotte would come to her senses and take me back.  I was not nearly as confident as my closest friends were that particular Saturday.  My best friend in the world, Larry, came to me as the others were leaving.  "Brock, outside of me of course (with a smirk on his face), who do you trust most in the world?" Larry asked.  "That would be Charlotte.  But, she's not in a talking mood for obvious reasons," I said.  "But, outside of Charlotte, if you had a choice, who would you talk to about your problems, who would help you the most in all the world?" as Larry continued to press me.  I couldn't figure out where he was going with this line of questioning.  "Larry, the only person outside of you, of course, and Charlotte, that I would completely trust and respect with my problems would be my beloved mother.  Okay?  But, she's dead, Larry, in case you haven't noticed!" I answered a bit too loudly as I was becoming more and more irate with my best friend.  What was he trying to get to with all this, I thought.   Larry then said something that made me go toward him in anger.  "Then talk to her, Brock.  Talk to her," Larry just matter of factly said to me.  I started toward him and he stopped me.  I was in enough trouble without having my best friend angry with me for punching him.  "Is this your idea of a joke, Larry?  Trying to mock my dead mother?  Are you purposely trying to provoke me into knocking the hell out of you!?!?" I screamed.  "I absolutely meant no disrespect, Brock!  You know I loved your mom.  She was like a second mother to me.  What I meant is talk to her as if she is there with you in your room sometime.  Talk to your mother like she is there in the flesh...and you may be surprised by what happens.  I know this simple advice helped me when I was recovering from that motorcycle accident six years back. I thought I would never walk again, remember? I may explain more on that another time. It's just a thought, Brock.  We'll talk tomorrow, old friend," said Brock.

I just decided Larry had too much to drink as we all had that Saturday.  Talk to my mom?  I wished I could, oh, how I wished I could talk to her, to let her know how things are going with me and the rest of her children.  There is so much I would love to talk to her about.  But, why beat myself over the head with this?  And Larry's strange advice in the first place, what the hell was he getting at?  Larry did have a terrible motorcycle accident six years back and almost never walked again.  His mom did die about three or four months prior to that accident, I mused.  This is insane, I decided.  I went into the bathroom, took a long, hot shower.  After I got out of the shower, my cell was blinking.  I had a call.  I went to voicemail and heard my message.  You know that old saying when it rains it pours?  That was the case as I listened to my supervisor explain I was being laid off due to technology.  Flight Engineers were dinosaurs in the airline industry.  We were being replaced all over the industry.  I knew it was coming eventually.  But, not now, not during a time of such heartache and turmoil in my life.  He apologized for calling so late and on a weekend.  But, he wanted me to know right away.  I was eligible to take free courses to become a First Officer.  But, I never wanted to fly those behemoths.  I was only qualified to fly certain planes but only then in extreme emergencies.  I wasn't qualified to be a pilot...period.  I didn't know what I was going to do.  I just didn't have a clue.  I sat down on my bed and cried.  I was at my wit's end.  I didn't know which way to turn now.  I was thinking maybe if I just left and lived the life of a homeless man, no one would even care.  I started to call my brother, Carl, who was a First Officer on Northwest Airlines.  But, I decided against it.  Carl was pulling some long hours and I was afraid I might wake him from his sleep time.

I then started thinking about what Larry had said....speak to your mother as if she was there in the room with you.  In the first place, why would Larry give such insane and absurd advice?  Speak to the dead?  I was not a person who held much belief in the supernatural (although I had seen some supernatural events during my time in the cockpit).  I kept crying and then finally...."Mama...Mama....can you hear me?  I need you, Mama.  I don't know what to do.  Please talk to me.  Tell me what to do...please Mama," I quietly cried.  I probably pleaded for my deceased mother to speak to me for five, maybe ten minutes.  I then just gave up.  With sleep overwhelming me, I did something I had not done since I was probably eight or nine years old.  I prayed.  I don't remember the exact prayer.  But, I do remember asking the Lord for a few hours with my mother, just a couple of hours would do, I prayed.  I felt foolish afterward.  God was too busy for such nonsense, I considered.  I had been agnostic, leaning toward belief in the past few months.  I guess it's true, there are no atheists in foxholes.  I was definitely in a foxhole.

I guess I had fallen to sleep for about an hour, or an hour and a half as I looked at my digital clock when I thought I heard something in my room.  It was like someone was trying to clear their throat very quietly.  I immediately sat up.  I looked around the dark room to see nothing out of the ordinary.  But, I could sense something was in the room with me.  Thinking I had been dreaming, I laid back down.  But, I just knew I had...."Brocky....it's me, sweetheart."  Only one person ever called me "Brocky."  This time, I jumped out of the bed.  Looking around the room, I saw nothing.  I saw nothing until I saw a silhouette in the moonlit room in the corner next to the closet.  "Mama? MAMA?!?" I incredulously asked.  I was beyond astonished.  "You were expecting someone else, Brocky?"  It was no doubt about it now.  The sarcasm sealed the deal.  That was my mother, the woman who raised me from the time I was an infant.  The woman who nursed me back to good health from so many colds and toothaches.  "Mama...this...this is impossible!" I exclaimed to her.  The silhouette now moved toward me and into better lighting.  It was my beloved mother wearing a light-colored robe.  It was the same pale blue eyes, the same dimple in her left cheek, the cropped black hair she had for eternity.  She walked closer to me and to within 5 feet when she stopped.  "Nothing is impossible if you only have faith, Brocky.  Faith the size of a mustard seed can move mountains.  I know I said that more than once to you," my mother quietly said to me.  I rushed to her to embrace her.  I cried like never before and I never will again.  MAMA!  I felt her flesh.  She was warm, not cold like I had expected.  Her eyes sparkled, but with no tears.  "We only have the couple of hours you asked for, Brocky.  I know of your problems, sweetheart.  I know," she said with concern and love.  "Mama, how can this be?  How...how...I don't know what to say.  Am I dreaming? If this is a dream, I don't want to wake up!" I said loudly.  "It's not a dream, you are not hallucinating.  It's me, your mother, in the flesh.  You asked for me.  I'm here.  But, in some ways, I've always been here with you and your sisters and brother.  You just couldn't see me, Brocky" she said.

I continued to stare at my mother in absolute astonishment.  "It's not important as to how I am here, Brocky.  What's important is that I am here.  I have words to say to you and not much time to say them.  Sit down and let's talk.  I know this is more than you can comprehend.  I wish I could explain it to you.  But, I am not allowed to do that.  Please understand, my love," Mama explained.  I was crying uncontrollably now.  "Now, now, now, my little boy.  Just like you did as a child when you did something wrong, you cry those big crocodile tears that always endeared me to you  I'm here.  I'm here for you, my son.  Tell me all that has gone on in your words.  I already know what has happened to you.  But, I need to hear it from your mouth," Mama continued.  It took me another 5 minutes.  But, I was able to compose myself enough to go over all that has taken place with Charlotte, my bad investment and losing my job just that night.  I explained how I felt hopeless, beyond embarrassed by the investment that cost me so much.  I couldn't stop staring at her.  I reached over and hugged her, kissed her.  She was holding my chin like she did when she was about to scold me.  "You know I love you, Brocky.  I always will.  But, I did not raise you to be a quitter, a crybaby and a forlorn figure that you have become.  Now, there are some things I can not tell you.  But, I can tell you that Charlotte is hurt very bad.  You already knew that.  But, at this very moment, she is considering coming back here to live with you at Liz's house.  And, before you say it, I can't see Liz, as much as I would love to.  You will recover.  Your unemployment will be short-lived.  And you will receive an offer that you have always wanted.  You will accept it and retire in that position with another airline.  Now, stop fretting so and get on with your life.  I can guarantee you that you have no idea when your life will end.  Now, straighten yourself up and hug me again.  I don't have much time left," she said.  I could tell the sparkle in her eyes was beginning to fade.  She seemed to be wheezing just ever so slightly as she continued to talk to me and ask questions.  We talked about the aftermath of her death.  We discussed how hard we took her death.  Of course, Mama wanted to know all about her "grandbabies" and how they were doing.  I saw by my clock we had been talking for just over 90 minutes.

"There's not much time left, Brocky," Mama said as she seemed to be gasping more for breath.  "Don't worry about me.  I didn't come from the grave and I'm not going back to the grave.  I'm going back to a beautiful place where there is no worry, no sickness, no heartache and none of the worldly things that make the living world one which I would not miss if not for my babies and grandbabies.  But, you do not need to worry about your situation, my love.  It will all work out.  Things will improve.  I can't explain why you were granted time to me during your time of need when so many others are ignored.  But, know this...there are others who see their mothers, fathers, siblings, and so on to discuss things.  It has happened for centuries, Brocky.  It will continue to happen.  But, you will never see me again.  Not in this world.  That is all I can say to you about that, sweetheart," said my Mama as I started crying again.  "Mama...let me go with you.  Please.  I miss you so much.  My life has been so empty, so meaningless without you.  I love Charlotte.  But, I can't..."  "You hush talking like that, Brock Robert Leyman!  I will not hear of such a thing.  Of course, you can't go with me.  Your time has not yet arrived.  Stop thinking of yourself and think of those who still need you, such as Charlotte and those two sons of yours," she said.  I looked at her and was still in amazement.  But, she was slowly getting drowsy as I continued to speak to her.  "Mama....do you know who it was that hit you?  The police have never been able to find him," I said to my mother.  At first, there was no response.  As my mother seemed to be slowly going to sleep.  "He died falling off a scaffolding.  He was a construction worker.  The man is paying for his mistake for eternity, Brocky," Mama said.  I reached out to my mother....she was cool to the touch.  Her time was all but gone now.  I couldn't let go.  "Mama!  Mama, please don't go, please stay a while longer," I pleaded through hot tears.  "It's time for me to go, sweetheart.  I will always be with you.  I will always love you and your..."  And she slowly disappeared into nothingness.

I know how this all sounds to the reader.  It was not a ghost or some apparition.  It was not my imagination or a hallucination.  How do I know this?  I have the faith of a mustard seed it was my mother.  Everything Mama said came true.  Charlotte and I did get back together.  Our marriage is now stronger than it's ever been.  I got a job as an instructor at another major airline and with better pay.  Life worked itself out just as Mama said it would.  My financial situation has never been better.  The only investment I make now is in spending more time with Charlotte and our grandchildren.  We are one big happy family now.  And you know what?  I know, even now, my mother is right there with us as we eat Sunday dinner like she used to.  My oldest son, Josh, his wife and two little girls (8 years and 5 years old) were eating with us this one Sunday night.  Lucy, the 8-year-old, dropped her fork on the floor.  I was going to pick it up and get her a new one.  But, she insisted on doing it herself.  As she got the fork and stood back up, she reached over to hug me and kiss me on the cheek.  I asked her what that was for.  "Because you kissed me on the cheek also, Grandpa.  I'll go get another fork," she said.

I didn't kiss my little granddaughter.  But, I know who did. 

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A Midsummer Night's Terror

Today we are pleased to welcome Emily Durkin as our guest poster on the paranormal/supernatural topic.  Emily is a 32-year-old professor of philosophy at a major university in New York.  Currently, she is on temporary assignment in Paris, France studying the French Classics such as Les Miserables, The Count of Monte Cristo and so forth.  Emily is divorced, no children, but does have a huge German Shepard at home named Duke. Emily is anxious to see him very soon.  Emily's hobbies consist of reading, studying and analyzing the classics of every country on earth.  In her spare time, Emily loves watching old movies (1940-1965).   She is also very involved with two nephews and a niece whom she loves very much.

If you have a story to share relating to the paranormal/supernatural, click HERE for details.  Also, to answer many questions, there is no charge for guest posting on the topic of the paranormal/supernatural. 


Shortly after my divorce (How do people marry and divorce more than once?), I asked my mom if I could stay at our cabin in the Red River Gorge basin of Kentucky.  Even though I was feeling a bit under the weather, I felt as if I needed to get away from everyone after a divorce that just absolutely broke me mentally and physically.  My ex-husband and I still loved each other.  We still do love each other.  But, sometimes, love just isn't enough to have a successful marriage, a marriage that works for both parties.   I just needed to be by myself in late June of 2014, about a week before Independence Day.  I brought several books to read, an old CD player and some CDs, some work I needed to catch up on before the school year began at the university.  Mom, of course, said it would be perfectly fine for me to go to our cabin that has been in the family since the late 1920s when my great-great-grandfather (there might be another "great" in there, I'm not sure) started building it.  It is about twice as large as the original 680 square feet built now due to adding on to it over the decades.  My mother was worried about my being at the cabin all by myself.  I assured her I would be bringing my cell phone and charger.  We had two generators that my late father taught me how to operate and to repair if they ever went down.  So, I felt quite confident I could handle anything were it to arise.  My dad taught me all I needed to ever know at that cabin.  I was wishing he was with me then to comfort me in that time of heartache.  But, my dad died of a stroke on New Year's Eve of 2002.  It was devastating to us all.  My dad's last wish was that his ashes were to be spread at the base of the hill that our cabin was built.  He loved the cabin and the Red River Gorge of Kentucky.  It was only fitting that his remains be there as he had requested.  But, it unnerves me just a little whenever I come to the cabin knowing my dad's ashes were somewhere at the base of the hill of where our cabin was located.


The Devil's Biggest Lie - Part II

Click HERE for Part I

As we approached the church, I got a sense of something of which I had never felt before.  The feeling I had the previous day was not of this nature.  It was now a sense of impending doom, of something so evil I could not imagine it in my mind.  In the 50 years after this event in my life, and until my retirement at age 73, I have never felt the same evil and hate as I did that day as we approached the church.  The church itself seemed sinister and menacing.  That is the not the way a church of Jesus Christ is supposed to be.  Deacon Somerby hesitated as we approached the door to the church.  "Pastor, I urge you to take your handkerchief and hold it over your nose.  You'll see why as we enter," said the deacon.  I ignored his advice and entered the church.  I immediately gagged.  It was the smell of sulfur.  That's the smell of rotten eggs to the less informed.  Except this seemed much stronger.  "Where is the smell coming from, Deacon Somerby?  How can we expect our congregation to show up with our church smelling like this?" I asked.  "Pastor, the women of the church have used every known cleaning solution known to man to try and get that smell out.  I mean we have used cleaning solutions on the ceiling, the walls and the floors.  We cleaned the pews with ammonia thinking that would kill the smell.  Nothing had any effect to this smell.  In my opinion, this is not something of this natural earth that is causing this smell and the problems we are currently having in the church as I have already related to you," the deacon quietly said.  He seemed very ill at ease as we spoke in the church.  "Regardless, we have to find out the cause and find a way to get rid of it.  That is my first order of business," I replied. Pastor, I know you may think I'm old and senile.  But, it is my opinion, this is of the devil.  There can be no other reason for this.  I know the devil does not have dominion over the church of Jesus Christ.  But, there is a reason why this has happened.  I'm not smart enough to understand why or how this happened.  But, we have to start seeking answers from the Holy Bible.  It is our only hope, our only way out of this evil taking over our church," the deacon said.  I was very pleased that Deacon Somerby was now reaching out to the Bible for answers.  That was quite a change from the previous day.

I assured Deacon Somerby we would find the answers to this in the Bible if indeed it is a supernatural entity that was causing this.  I was feeling this whole problem could be of the Devil also.  But, before I got to that point, I wanted to make sure we eliminated all possibilities of the smell by natural means.  We could then concentrate on the supernatural possibility.  For all I knew, the smell is what was causing the congregation to rebel against the Gospel.  The deacon took me to the area where the church secretary was working.  She had some sort of petroleum jelly under her nose to mask the smell.  It was overpowering where the church pews were located.  But, at least in the pastor's office, it was not as bad.  I asked if there was a janitorial service nearby that we could employ.  I was informed they had hired two different janitorial services with mixed results.  The smell always came back.  Based on this, I had to entertain the idea this was of an evil entity.  But, since my early days in Sunday School to my graduation in Seminary, the Devil had no dominion over the House of God.  None.  I contacted two school pastors about this by phone.  Both said it was impossible that any evil entity could have made itself home in the church of Jesus Christ.  One pastor did tell me that if an evil entity was invited to the church, it could make itself known under false pretenses for a short time. In other words, heed what is in 2 Corinthians 11:14....And no marvel; for Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light.

 In other words, the entity could be a wolf in sheep's clothing or a possessed human under the influence of evil.  Even that is unheard of by anyone currently teaching the Word of God. I asked Deacon Somerby had anyone from the church been there in an official capacity before the problems had begun. He said there had been none.  I decided the only way to get this whole thing in the open was have an official meeting of the congregation on a Wednesday night meeting.  There I would commence a new blessing of the church and pray for the souls of everyone in the church.  If such evil does exist in the church, then the evil will make itself known at that time.  Deacon Somerby stated, "This will not go over well with the congregation, pastor.  We already have people who are openly ridiculing the Gospel of Jesus Christ, who question the virgin birth.  This will only invite more discord among the congregation."  "Then discord it shall be.  I intend to root out any evil that may have taken hold in this congregation, one way or another," I said.  The deacon continued to be troubled by this.  "I ask you to reconsider, Pastor Turner.  If indeed there is a demon or demons within the membership, then it will leave shortly with your arrival," Deacon Somerby stated.  Nonetheless, I insisted upon the meeting.  The deacon reluctantly agreed.  I was a bit puzzled by his reluctance.

On the Wednesday night meeting, regular church was canceled.  It was made known to everyone of what the subject would be that night.  I instructed the church secretary to make note of everyone who was a member that was not present.  It had begun to snow that night, of all nights.  Temperatures were in the mid-twenties. I was fearful if the majority would even show up.  At 7 PM, we had a full house.  The church secretary, Mrs. Lancaster, strangely enough, was nowhere to be found.  I started my sermon by introducing myself to the membership.  After introductions, I got down to business. "I've been told, quite to my amazement, we have members who question the very foundation of Christian principals.  The very idea we have members who question whether Jesus Christ was resurrected or...."  "It's all hogwash, pastor!  Jesus is as dead as Adolf Hitler.  Of course, Hitler actually existed at one time.  Can we say the same for Biblical Jesus?"  said one menacing looking member.  That started the uproar at that point.  People were taking their bibles and actually throwing them at the pulpit, cursing me and mocking me.  I won't go into all that was said as the years have blurred everything said that awful night.  I was in a state of shock.  My first talk with my congregation and I'm having bibles thrown at me from the pews!  Amazingly, Deacon Somerby, who should have been trying to calm everyone down, was smiling.  I was completely dumbfounded now.  What was going on?  Were all these people, including the deacon, possessed by an evil spirit?  It appears at least one-third of the church was screaming and threatening me and the other two-thirds were either crying, trying to leave or threatening the other one-third.

With the one-third reaching a crescendo with their blasphemous ridicule and threats, I began to read the Bible.  I read from Psalm 23"The Lord is my Shepard, I shall not want...." "YOU WANT NOTHING BECAUSE YOU HAVE NOTHING, YOU FOOL!" shouted one voice of evil.  "He Maketh me lie down in green pastures, he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul; He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake...."  "STOP THIS NONSENSE, CROSS WORSHIPPER OR WE WILL CRUCIFY YOU TO THE FRONT DOOR OF THIS CHURCH," said a voice that I remotely recognized.  It was the frail, elderly church secretary, Mrs. Lancaster.  She was directly behind me and she suddenly didn't seem so frail to me any longer.  The vulgarities, cursing, and threats were now making their way toward the pulpit where I stood.  Deacon Somerby was leading the charge of clearly one-third of the congregation.  At this time, I quickly read the crucial part of Psalm 23, the one line that I wore as my protection throughout my life. I shouted this as loudly as I could.   "YEA, THOUGH I WALK THROUGH THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH, I WILL FEAR NO EVIL, FOR THOU ART WITH ME!!!!!" I screamed at the evil before me and behind me.  At this time, the evil contingent stopped in their tracks.  Deacon Somerby shouted something to me I later figured out was Latin.  "Juxta condictum revertar Nos autem crucis cultorque sum. Nos non prohibere!" "IN JESUS NAME, I COMMAND YOU TO RETURN TO YOUR DOMAIN OF HELL AND BRIMSTONE, NEVER TO RETURN! IN JESUS NAME!!"  I screamed to the menacing horde less than 10 feet from me at the pulpit.  With that, the roaring and screaming evil part of our congregation, suddenly and with amazing speed, knocked down our two-inch thick oak door and ran off into the cold, snowy darkness of the night.   The members that were possessed (or perhaps silent soldiers waiting for the word from their evil master) never returned.  They are still listed as missing from the local authorities.  Make of that what you will. The crying, screaming of the remaining two-thirds of the church was left in stunned disbelief.  They were not alone in feeling shocked.  The two people I had grown to trust most, Deacon Somerby and Church Secretary Mrs. Lancaster were among the group who raced out of the church.  We all remained in the church for approximately another hour before we all silently walked out what was once our front door.  Two elders, including Mr. Hurley,  helped me put up a curtain backed with church pews to keep out snow and the cold.

Despite what the evil demon of Deacon Somerby stated in Latin, they never did come back as they threatened.  I never felt any evil in this church for the remainder of the time I was the pastor.  Nor did I feel any evil presence at any other church of which I was appointed pastor.  But, I did have questions for School Proctor, Pastor Morely.  Surely, he had knowledge of the problems of this church, knowledge that could have helped me prepare for what I faced that night so long ago.  As soon as I could the next morning, I made a phone call to Pastor Morely.  His secretary stated he had told the school administrator he had to leave suddenly for a sick relative.  To this day, some fifty years later, Pastor Morely has not been heard from again.  I'm pretty sure I know why.  And, I am pretty sure I know who his "sick relative" was now.

As I stated, I never felt any type of evil presence in church since that incredible cold night in November of 1959.  But, I will repeat what Deacon Somerby stated in Latin, "We will not stop."  Evil never stops, never relents.  Outside of church, I see a sudden, brief evil in my rear view mirror of my car, a brief instant of evil at the checkout counter at a department store.  The Devil has time.  He has the biggest lie on his side. of him not existing.  He has patience.  He is doomed with the one-third of angels kicked out of Heaven to live forever in fiery depths of Hell.  I thank God for His protection all these years.

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The Devil's Biggest Lie - Part I

Today we are pleased to welcome Pastor Matthew Turner as our guest poster of the month on the paranormal/supernatural topic.  Pastor Turner is a retired pastor living his entire life in the great state of Oklahoma.  He is now retired at age 73, having gained his first pastorship at age 23.  He is the husband of Mary Lynn, the father of two sons, Joseph and Michael, both of whom are pastors now with their own families.  Pastor Turner and Mary Lynn are the grandparents of four beautiful grandchildren, ranging from age 12 to age 25.  Pastor Turner is founder of the food bank exchange in his area and leads food drives four times a year.  Pastor Turner still occasionally preaches the Gospel of Jesus Christ at various churches in his retirement.  His hobbies consist of fishing, hiking, chess and walking his beloved beagle, Charlie, to the general store.

  If you have a story to share relating to the paranormal/supernatural, click HERE for details.  Also, to answer many questions, there is no charge for guest posting on the topic of the paranormal/supernatural. 

{This will be a two-part story.  We do not normally allow two-part stories for the story of the month.  But, we are allowing our policy to be overruled in this case --Charlotte Hensley}


[Just to be clear, I am not typing this absurdly long story.  My granddaughter, Laura, is typing it for me as my arthritic hands can no longer handle a keyboard--Pastor Matthew Turner]


At age 23, I found myself in the school proctor's office. It was 1959, the Sunday before Thanksgiving of that year.  Pastor Morely was our proctor and he was a bit of an aloof individual.  Normally, he would simply say "Bless you" if you came across him and he would be on his way.  But, he had called me into his office for a matter of "great importance" I was told prior to my appointment.  I was three days away from graduation from Seminary and was awaiting my Mission at a Baptist church as I had already been previously informed by several pastors.  Normally, a newly graduated Seminary student would take an internship or associate pastor at a Baptist church according to tradition.  I was hoping I would be put into the Mission field in Africa as that was my stated mission in life as I had expressed to many at the school.  Pastor Morely came into his office, shook hands with me and congratulated me on my graduation in three days.  We made small talk for a few minutes and then Pastor Morely got down to business.  "I know your stated purpose, your wish is to be appointed to the field mission in Africa.  Perhaps sometime in the future that will happen.  But, not right now.  Not at this point in your life.  I have a much more important job for you.  I want you to take the pastorship at a Baptist church in the southeastern part of the state.  The church is on the brink of bankruptcy, members are leaving and they are having problems that are of a nature of which I can't discuss with you at this moment.  I need you to leave immediately upon graduation in three days.  There will be a Deacon Somerby who will meet you upon your arrival at the church.  I know this puts you on the road the day before Thanksgiving.  But, you must leave as soon as possible.  Perhaps you can have Thanksgiving dinner with Deacon Somerby.  I wish you well, Pastor Turner," Pastor Morely said.  He immediately rose from his desk and walked out of his office. I was stunned.  I wasn't allowed even one question.  I would not be spending Thanksgiving with my family.  I was upset and realized I had no choice but to go as commanded by the school proctor. I went to my dorm room and immediately started packing.

Needless to say, I was distraught about not spending Thanksgiving with my family.  But, this is the path God had chosen for me and I must go.  I graduated from Seminary at 10AM the Wednesday before Thanksgiving in 1959 and immediately set out for Trinity Baptist Church in the southeastern part of the state of Oklahoma, my home state. It was a bitterly cold day.  To make matters worse, the heater in my 1955 Oldsmobile 98 went out on me.  So, it was a long six hour drive until I arrived late that afternoon near dusk.  I arrived at the church and no one was around.  The church itself seemed simplistic, old and, yes, I hesitate to say this, but it appeared evil to me.  About five minutes after I arrived, Deacon Somerby arrived.  "Pastor Turner?" the deacon quizzed me.  He couldn't believe someone as young as me would have been sent to take on full pastorship of a church of over 200 members.  Or, at least, it was 200 members at one time.  "Deacon Somerby, I assume?  Glad to meet you sir.  As you might imagine, I am very tired, cold and hungry." I said to Deacon Somerby.  "I will take care of all three of those problems for you Pastor Turner.  I was not aware someone as young as you would be coming to handle all our problems.  But, I'm sure they know what they are doing at the Seminary.  I will drop you off at the boarding house with your own special room.  Mrs. Mullany assures me it is the best of her rooms.  She has turkey, with dressing and all the trimmings for you.  So, you are not going to be forgotten during this holiday," said the deacon.  "Deacon Somerby, what exactly is going on at the church?  My school proctor did not fill me in on any of your problems here other than to say membership was dropping off and some other problems had come up" I stated to him."  Deacon Somerby looked at me a bit strangely, I thought.  "We will get into all that in the morning, pastor.  I will say on this to you....something evil has taken over this church.  We have members in open rebellion, members who suddenly have mocked and ridiculed the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  Long-time members who suddenly have questioned the foundation of our Christian principals.  But, just as strange, we have people who even question the existence of the Devil.  Many are fervent in their belief now that the Devil is nonsense and must be expunged from our teachings. In fact, Pastor Lassiter left because he was being ridiculed, mocked and threatened as he preached from the pulpit.  Pastor Lassiter just up and left in the middle of the night three weeks ago," he said.

I didn't know what to make of this.  I had never heard of a church membership in open revolt before.  It seemed impossible.  And I refused to believe that a demon spirit had invaded the church.  That was simply not possible.  The deacon told me that someone would pick me up the next morning to meet him at the church.  He did warn me that the church had a smell they simply couldn't get rid of for reasons they could not understand.  All this was more than I could fathom.  Why would Pastor Morely appoint me for something of this nature, someone so young and inexperienced.  I had excellent grades, was praised for my ability to interpret the Holy Bible and my work with the indigent and poor.  But, I thought this was a job for someone with immense experience, not someone who just recently graduated Seminary.  I went to the boarding house with Deacon Somerby and told him I looked forward to seeing him in the morning.  He continued to give me strange looks.  All this was so mysterious, so strange to me.  He told me again that someone would be there in the morning to pick me up.

The next morning, I was awakened by a knock on my door.  It was Mrs. Mullany (who had an excellent Thanksgiving dinner, but nothing like my mother's traditional Thanksgiving dinner).  "Pastor Turner?  Pastor Turner, Mr. Hurley is here to pick you up, sir," said Mrs. Mullany.  "Thank you Mrs Mullany.  I'll be right out," I said.  I grabbed my materials I had for the church, my Bible and walked out into the living room to meet Mr. Hurley, a church elder.  Like Deacon Somerby, he was skeptical of someone so young being appointed pastor.  I could see it in his eyes.  "Pastor, we need to get going.  We need to go pick up Deacon Somerby as well this morning" he said.  We set out to pick up Deacon Somerby and Mr. Hurley kept giving me quick, furtive glances.  "I hope the deacon gave you some idea of what is in store for you, pastor.  It's not for the faint of heart," Mr. Hurley said.  I had enough of this.  "Mr. Hurley, I can assure you, I have been indoctrinated in the Word of God.  Whatever this is plaguing our church, I will deal with in due time.  Don't let my age fool you into thinking I can not handle this pastorship," I said a bit too loudly and, yes, a bit too harshly.  Mr. Hurley said nothing else from that point on until we picked up Deacon Somerby at his modest home just outside town.

We were about three miles from the church when Deacon Somerby spoke up.  "We are about to enter into something of which you have never witnessed, pastor.  The smell is overpowering in the church.  The feeling you will get today will not come close to what you felt upon your arrival.  I am only telling you this because I want you to be prepared.  We have already lost one pastor.  We cannot afford to lose another.  I do believe this is something evil that has invaded the church.  It is up to you to get rid of it," the deacon said.  All my teachings had taught me that the Devil and his minions could not enter into the Church of God.  It was simply not possible and I was puzzled that Deacon Somerby did not know that or he should have known it.  He was deacon of the entire church.  He should have been reassuring me of that message.  But, he did not.  I didn't know what to make of him at that point.  All I knew for certain, I was about to enter into the biggest event of my life.  I had little in the way of knowledge of what had really been going on.  I had church leadership that appeared curious to me.  Even more, I had a church proctor, of my Seminary school, who had sent me into the biggest fight of my life with virtually no knowledge of what I was about to face.  And I was about to face it virtually all alone with my faith, my teachings and my Bible.

Click HERE for Part II


Man in the Closet - Part III

Man in the Closet - Part II

This man should not need any introduction to the many who have followed this blog since its inception in April of 2008.  JD Weldy is the former owner and writer for "David's Musings."  JD has one novel in ebook format (Diary:  Alone on Earth).  He is compiling other short stories and novellas that he says will be available on Amazon before Christmas.  He is involved with many other writing projects involving a couple of publishers.  JD teaches a Creative Writing class at a local community college in his spare time.  He is one of the more highly regarded bloggers/writers among the online community.  Please join me in welcoming "home" JD Weldy as our guest poster on the Paranormal/Supernatural topic.

[Charlotte Hensley, Senior Staff Editor, David's Musings]

  If you have a story to share relating to the paranormal/supernatural, click HERE for details.  Also, to answer many questions, there is no charge for guest posting on the topic of the paranormal/supernatural.

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