A Spiritual Encounter

In our gorgeous contemporary farmhouse in the countryside, Wade had built me a beautiful office with a huge window that framed 8 point bucks and coyotes as they stood outside peaking in while I wrote. It was situated purposefully next to the kitchen so I could jut in and out preparing meals while writing, allowing me to take multi-tasking to the extreme.

Wade’s office, on the other hand, was outside our property in a spooky old barn with no heat and no comforts, other than the sexy poster taped to the back of his door of a badass half dressed blonde with an enticing stare and a pierced belly button.

On this particular freezing day, I needed to send a 137 paged fax to our mortgage company in the attempt to get a refi and save the house. Putting on my Sorrels and double down, I trudged out through the new snow to walk into the dark. Sliding the barn door open, I tried my best to shut my mind off to Wade’s warped sense of humor and sardonic teasing of hanging me on the meat hook as a trophy if I ever pushed him to hard.

I swirled round and round in his office chair making smoke rings from the cold as the cogs in the fax machine squeaked the pages through, when suddenly the hair prickled on my neck. I wasn’t alone.

I froze as the adrenaline pumped through my body, my heart thumping so hard I thought it may just abruptly stop. Closing my eyes I took a deep breath, and breathed out a muted “Hello,” the word floating up into the air.

I had communicated with him many times before in my mind but never out loud.

….and then he spoke, “Hi.”

A slight warm breeze brushed my cheek. He was there, behind me, enveloping my being with his presence. I refrained my impulse to run out of the barn into the blinding white snowstorm. I had been waiting for this moment for so long and I was melting in his presence, unable to resist what came next.

Closing my eyes again I waited for his words.

‘….why aren’t you scared anymore?”

“I guess I have grown to trust you,” I responded.

“Tell me,” I asked, “Is it you who beats me up in order to hear the messages?Stinging me, or knocking my head on the corner of the counter?”

“….yes. you are stubborn, and sometimes you don’t listen.”

“I am never certain that it really is you or just my conscience,” I said.

Quiet

“Can you tell me something?” I asked, my voice still sounding meek and helpless. “Can you tell me who you are, and why you have chosen me to guide and protect?”

“You already know who I am.”

“Yes, but do I really? I have so many questions to ask you but am afraid to hear the truth.”

“Jillian, you already know all the answers. You just have to believe in yourself, and in me.”

“Can I see you at least?”

“We have been together many times before, in your dreams.”

“I love you, you know,” I said

“Yes, I know,” he replied.

“Jillian, there is something important that I have to tell you before I go.”

“Are you sure I’m ready for it? I mean, maybe I am not cut out for this and am better remaining in the not knowing.”

“Jillian, you are not like the rest.”

Just at that moment the door flung open and Wade blew in from the cold outdoors. He glanced over at the fax machine and back to my face assuming my paleness was from our financial stress.

I told him that I was waiting for him to save me from myself as he always has done and always will do for me.

I came out of the barn needing to feel the ground beneath my feet. Slowly, slowly I walked back to the house, Wade’s arms wrapped around me in comfort.

6 COMMENTS

  1. O.K. – I have the answer. Stop this blogging business and become a writer of scary novels. My hairs were screaming (sticking up on end) as I read this. WELL WELL WRITTEN!! 🙂 xo

  2. Hey Jill,
    Been meaning to come back and leave a reply since you posted this. So busy! I think many people have experiences like this but never talk about it. I love honest writing, which is fearless and always interesting.

    Also wanted to thank you for your comment on my Battle of Resistance blog. Nothing makes me happier than to hear I’ve inspired someone to keep writing when that is their passion.

    Also, I agree about J.R. Moehringer’s The Tender Bar. Loved it so much I wrote a review on Amazon after I read it. It’s a beautifully written and powerful memoir.

  3. Thanks for commenting on my essay, The Accidental Blogger. I read this a while ago and was pulled away before I could post a response.

    Is this part of a longer piece or a short story? The story definitely hooked me. I didn’t understand what “sacrificial office” meant. You’ve got a great writing style. Just cut out extra words and tighten it a bit. It’s really creepy and left me wanting more. Also, just a thought. Since you mentioned Wade in the paragraph prior to feeling the presence, I wasn’t sure if Wade was the spirit or the “he” in that paragraph, until Wade appeared in the flesh at the end. I wonder if any one else was confused by this. Thanks. Keep the pages coming.
    Lauren

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