"Uncle George knows where your mother is..."
Jane, several years ago, my sister Evelyn, and myself attended a seance you hosted at the
Spy House. I remember you stating at the outset, that everyone would hear from SOMEone that night, but not necessarily who they expected to. My sister and I got a shocker.It was about halfway through the evening I guess, and you had given messages to most of the room by that point. When you stopped and got a funny look on your face;"I smell........baking bread? And I see.....OLD stone, hearth-type ovens......who is George?
George has been gone a very long time. I usually don't get personal messages from someone gone this long!"I jumped out of my skin, and looked across the room at my sister, who's eyes were as big as dish plates. I raised my hand."I think that would be my sister and I. But we never met Uncle George. He passed away long before we were born!"
You looked directly at me and said,"Uncle George knows where your mother is. The situation she is in. He WANTS you to tell her that he's THERE. He's with her. He's watching over her."I choked up. And I know my sister did too. Uncle George had passed away in the mid 1940s. He had been a baker, in the early part of the 20th century, in Lancaster PA, where my mother had grown up. During the Depression, he had basically fed the whole clan. He was the only one still making money. My mother would scrub the floors in the bakery, run errands for him, basically do anything she could, to help him. She was his favorite. He would give her what spare change he had on him, and tell her NOT to give it to her mother, but to go and buy herself some candy.
My mother loved Uncle George very much. Aside from Grandmom, the rest of her family was NOT very nice to mom. But Uncle George loved her, I guess as much as Grand mom did.As all of this was running at high speed through my head, you got a funny look on your face, and said,"And what's this he keeps saying about a pet turtle?"THAT for me, was the real clincher.Uncle George gave my mother broken pretzel bits, that he could not sell in the bakery, to take home. Which she would feed to her pet turtle, in the backyard.I related the experiences of that night to my mother, a day later, when I visted her in the nursing home. Mom has been bedridden and an invalid for 6 years. I told her what you had said. She was, of course, skeptical. Still, I told her that Uncle George visited her from time to time, and he was watching over her. She teared up a bit. Then I mentioned the broken pretzel bits and the turtle. Her eyes got wide."How could she know THAT??""She couldn't." I told her "Unless Uncle George really was talking to her."Mom is still a skeptic. But she listens more carefully now, when I relate experiences like these to her. I don't expect her to ever fully believe. She was raised Roman Catholic, at a time when such things were still considered by the church to be bordering on Witchcraft.But, if it gives her even a LITTLE comfort, with the life she's living now, it can't be a bad thing. :)Thanks so much! I hope to be attending one of your sťances again very soon!Please feel free to call or email me, if I can be of any assitance to you!
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