The House Did Not Want To Be Blessed

As I stated in my profile, I was once part of a Paranormal Investigation Group. This wasn't the kind of group that skulks around grave yards and trespasses places. This was a truly professional investigation group complete with expensive gear, monthly meetings and well planned organization. It was staffed by volunteers who were great people and not your average idiot walking into a house going 'I feel spirits' and winding up the owners of the location we were investigating.

It was with this group that I learned of my empathic abilities. It's not harnessed. I have little control over it. It enables me to read emotions and feelings off everything and everyone. I've taken some training on how to block it and do fairly well now. I learned about it at a Paranormal Conference at the Queen Mary. A friend of mine introduced me to (can't remember his name) some famous Demonologist. I shook his hand and he gave a warm chuckle. Shaking his hand felt like putting my hand in a warm tub of water that was slightly electrified. I pulled my hand away and he said to me "Well hello there, little empath" I had to go look that up. I had no idea what that was. I believe this 'talent', as some call it, makes me susceptible or attractive to spirits. So I've dealt with much in my lifetime. Only now I understand it.

I moved into our new home; my husband and two children. The previous home we had rented was sold and we had to wait a few weeks to get into this new home. The old man had passed away in the home after some long illness - cancer I think. The owners son installed new carpet, new tile, and new fixtures, painted. The house was beautiful! One of the first things I noticed was that my sons room had two doors. One opened into the hallway, the other into the foyer, which led into the front room and into the hallway. This enabled my kids to have veritable horse races around and around. I really didn't like it and tried to keep the doors shut. This is how it started.

The doors in my sons room did not stay shut nor did his closet. I was constantly shutting the door into the hallway and into the closet. I didn't notice it at first, blaming the four year old male child. But then other things started happening. He would wake in the night crying telling me someone woke him and bothered him. His favourite toys would break and he'd cry saying that someone broke them. Well kids, you know, right? Then my daughter would complain about the old man standing in the doorway of her room at night scaring her. So I talked to the owner a bit about the house. I found out that the old man died in my sons bedroom. The room my husband and I occupied was his wife's sewing room. He never went in there. My daughters room was his project room. So he spent much time between the two rooms until he could no longer get around, and then mainly lived in his bedroom. As he aged he became mean and cantankerous. Before he was totally rendered unable to move about on his own, he would throw rocks at the neighbourhood kids riding by on bicycles, or scare the kids on either side of the back yard by yelling at them and hitting his cane on the fence - a regular pip.

I had seen things out of the corner of my eye, yet never paid any mind to it. I noticed a tall shadow moving around the house. He made me paranoid and uncomfortable. He wasn't happy we were there. My kids took to sleeping at the foot of my bed like puppies.

So I had a very Christian friend come over to help me perform a blessing on the house to get this old man to move on to wherever he was supposed to go. She's a deacon at the local church. She brought holy water and bits of cloth soaked in holy water. She said if the problem persisted after her, we'd call in reinforcements.

My cousin was over that night to witness everything and my kids were with relatives. So we began the blessing in the garage, moved into the kitchen, front room, sons room, daughters room, moving last to my bedroom. As we pushed through the house, I swear my ears felt like they needed to pop like I was driving into the mountains. In each room we prayed, sprinkled holy water, gave a blessing to the room, house and living inhabitants, asking the old man to go in peace to his final resting place. The pressure built and built. Both my friend and cousin stated their discomfort and anxiety as we pushed further into the house. As we left each room, we left a small bit of cloth soaked in holy water in an obscure corner, in closets, etc.

We got to the doorway of my bedroom. Before going in, we performed a prayer and a blessing for cleansing. As we had done in each archway or doorway in the house, I reached up to put a sign of the cross in holy water. In doing so over my bedroom door, I felt two cold hands shoot out of nowhere and shove me hard in my chest just below my shoulders but above my breasts. A mighty shove as I reached up to the archway. Luckily my cousin was behind me. She steadied my shoulders and kept me from falling backwards. My deacon friend grabbed my arm when she saw me jerk back and helped push my hand up over the archway to complete the sign of the cross over the doorway.

Upon doing so, the house felt like it took a breath, our ears popped, something boomed and all was quiet.

The old man was no more to be seen or heard from again.