When I was a little girl in second grade, my bed was right beside a big window. Looking at the stars at night or the clouds and sun in the morning was always a joy. My fondness for sky watching has never wavered. One night while looking out the window before going to bed I saw an angel. She was small and far away, yet crystal clear in her shape and form. She flew from left to right across the sky, her dress flowing behind her and her arms outstretched. She wasn’t looking at me, but she was there, crystal clear.
I called for my Mother who immediately rushed up the stairs.
“What is it, Jennie?”
“There!” I said pointing. “Look at that angel!”
“I don’t see anything. Where?”
“There! Right there!” I said pointing.
“Do you mean that little cloud?”
“NO! She’s flying. Can’t you see? She’s so beautiful.”
My Mother could not see. As hard as she tried, the angel was not there for her eyes. Only mine. I watched the white loveliness fly across the sky. Why had my Mother not seen her? I have held that thought and memory in my mind.
Some years later when I was child at summer camp, walking back to my cabin at night, my father appeared on the dirt road. He just stood there, looking at me. He wasn’t smiling which I didn’t understand. He stood still, not speaking or moving. Then he was gone. I thought to myself, that’s twice I have seen a spirit.
As an adult, I began to feel the presence of a loved one. Usually this happened when I was going to bed at night. The feeling was inside my body, filling my chest. It was not a light, euphoric feeling. Rather it was a heavy, comforting feeling. It always made me smile and feel good. Often it was my Grandmother or my husband’s Mother. I have not felt my own Mother, yet. I say ‘yet’, because I still feel a presence on occasion. The few people I have asked have never experienced the same thing.
On a drive to the zoo in Norfolk, Virginia, a remarkable event occurred. I was riding in the back seat of the car, with my one-year-old granddaughter beside me in her car seat. We stopped at a traffic light which was alongside a cemetery. My granddaughter immediately became excited, whipped her head around to look over at the cemetery, and began chatting away in baby talk. She was waving her arms, wiggling, and smiling. As soon as the light changed and the car began to drive away, she stopped as if nothing happened at all.
The very young do see spirits. Perhaps I have, too, because I have the heart of the very young.
Jennie Fitzkee has been teaching preschool for over thirty years. This is her passion. She believes that children have a voice, and that is the catalyst to enhance or even change the learning experience. Emergent curriculum opens young minds. It’s the little things that happen in the classroom that are most important and exciting. That’s what she writes about.
She is highlighted in the the new edition of Jim Trelease’s bestselling book, “The Read-Aloud Handbook” because of her reading to children. Her class has designed quilts that hang as permanent displays at both the National Liberty Museum in Philadelphia, and the Fisher House at the Boston VA Hospital.
Follow Jennie on her blog, A Teacher’s Reflections.
If you have had a strange experience or encounter that you would like to share, please get in touch with me at firstname.lastname@example.org (or my usual email if you already have it) and we can discuss a guest post.
I am not looking for sensationalism or fictional tales… but in light of the response to some recent posts, I think it would be both useful and reassuring to others to realise that none of us are alone in these strange encounters and experiences and perhaps we can open discussion on what they may be or may mean.
If you would like to share your story but prefer to remain anonymous, we can discuss that too. If you would like to share your beliefs and opinions on the nature of these experiences, I would be happy to talk about a guest post. Through sharing with respect we may learn to understand our world and each other a little better.