A couple days prior to Easter, I drove past an old Catholic Church. It's a beautiful building with lots of charm, but the parking lot is shared by another denomination.
The second church sits almost directly behind the first, and for some odd reason, I found myself staring to the right of both buildings. Slowing down my auto, I found myself pulling into the parking lot.
Driving past the entrance of the Catholic Church, I drove toward the set of steps leading up to a Statue of Christ on the cross. My blood pressure appeared to be rising, and I was agitated.
It didn't feel good to be near this area. The Statue was bleached white by the tropical sun, and it hurt my eyes to look at it. The crown of thorns, the blood running down the frozen face, it made me angry, and I didn't know why.
The more I stared up at the Statue, the clearer it became. I wasn't really angry. The entities that came out from behind the Statue, they were the angry one's. One by one they emerged. A young boy wearing pajama bottoms and no shirt, a middle aged woman in robe and slippers. They sat on the steps and stared at the Statue. An elderly man with a grumpy face, he sat nearby, and I knew he was mad he had died. All of the Ghosts were giving off different levels of emotion.
They gave off emotional sadness, anger, awe and confusion. The boy started to cry into his hands, and I felt such loneliness coming from him. He faded away, and another took his place. A balding forty something male was suddenly there, but he wasn't angry, just curious. He smiled at the Statue and dematerialized.
Sitting myself down on the bottom step, the wave of anger left me. Disappointed, I can only assume the anger was structured around my being there, possibly toward me. I will never know for sure. None of the entities attempted to talk to me. I counted twelve entities in that fifteen minute span.
The sun on my back was soothing, but there was nothing more to do here. Standing back up, I saw the last Ghost. She was a tiny speck of a girl. Her stick straight hair stopped at her waist, and she wore her Sunday best. The dress was cream colored and covered in tiny flowers. I guessed, she was most likely buried in this beautiful garment.
She was four or five years old, and she wrapped her arms around the feet of the Statue.
"Jesus..." She said, her eyes were huge with admiration. It was a simple statement, and it brought tears to my eyes. I think she was waiting for someone. She stared up into the face of the Statue and smiled. It was a soft smile, and she looked back at me with those big brown eyes. Her flawless face still had the freshness of living youth. How or when she had died, didn't matter. What was she still doing here?
I barely had time to return her smile, before she evaporated into a misty mass. The mist moved behind the Statue and dissipated. Walking behind the Statue, I found myself staring down and into a large cemetery. Headstones dotted the hillside and followed the valley below.
It made sense to me now. These entities were being drawn to the Statue here. It IS a beautiful Statue. As I was leaving to go back to my car, I saw an elderly nun going over to the steps. She smiled at me, and I smiled back. I heard her clothing rustle as she passed me, and when I turned to watch her climb the steps, she was gone.
She had looked so real. I saw her rosary, I felt her warm smile. The sparkle in her eyes had been so clear. A chill went over me for a moment, and I pulled open the car door. When I climbed in and pulled the seat belt across my body, I looked over to the Statue, one last time. The Nun was sitting on the top step, and in her lap was the little girl I had seen. They seemed to be talking, and I smiled once again. The Nun looked at me and pulled the child close to her body. It was a loving gesture, and I felt comforted.
I think this child was going to be crossing soon, and it touched my heart. Why a Nun, I wondered. A child this young doesn't understand religion or the complexity of the Catholic Church. Oh well, another question to ask when it is my turn to cross over.
As I started up my car, I didn't worry myself with the paranormal activity. A Nun, or someone who had appeared as a Nun, was in charge here.
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