So Much for Smudging

How a house-blessing class landed me on a ghostbusting adventure.

A few months ago, I somehow found myself enrolled in a class called “Clearings and Blessings.”

I thought I was going to learn how to smudge and bless people’s houses.

Two weeks later, I was in a van traveling east with four people who affectionately called themselves ghostbusters. We were answering a call from a family experiencing some very unusual activity on their rural three-acre property.

So much for smudging.

Unlike me, the other four people in the van were well acquainted with the world of woo-woo and despite having a few decades on most of them, I was considered the “baby” of the group.

To protect everyone’s privacy—and because what happened next deserves its own cast of characters—I’ll give my teammates names.

Harry was our driver and the leader of the group. People often compared him to Jesus because of his appearance, which along with his gifts seemed somewhat fitting.

Ron was about Harry’s age. During the drive, I learned that his unusual abilities apparently emerged after he was struck by lightning—an event that resulted in a near-death experience. Ron communicated telepathically with what the team called entities.

Hermione was what is considered “a seer,” possessing abilities that, quite frankly, would scare the bajeebeez outta me. She could see spirits and entities—two very different things, I was learning.

And then there was Doris, whom I will affectionately call Dumbledoris. She was the wisest of us all and seemed to possess abilities unlike anyone else in the van. Spotting vortexes and portals appeared to be her specialty.

And then there was me.

I was less wizard and more Dorothy, wandering down a yellow-brick road to God knows where.

Compared with this wondrous group, I didn't think I had anything special to offer.

But there was one thing we all had in common:

Each of us had experienced a deep, unsettling emotional trauma before finding ourselves on this strange spiritual path.

And we talked about that, too.

After nearly two hours of talking and laughing in the van, the air began to shift when we neared our destination.

As we approached an old bridge, Harry slowed down.

We all became very still.

The van crawled across the creaking bridge while a wide, silent stream flowed beneath us.

The silence inside the van felt ominous.

No one needed to say anything.

We weren’t in Kansas anymore.

“Water holds memories,” Harry reminded us, explaining his belief that the water beneath us could hold the energy of what had happened there long ago.

The history of this land was horrific.

Pennsylvania militiamen entered this territory over two hundred years ago and massacred nearly one hundred Christian Lenape men, women, and children. They were pacifists—and dozens of them were children.

I believe it was Hermione who noted the nearby settlement’s German name and that it translates to “tents of grace.”

As I listened, I couldn’t stop thinking about the children.

One thought settled into me:

Maybe it was time to show these souls some of that grace.

As we pulled into the driveway, the clouds grew dark despite the late-morning hour. I was glad I'd brought my raincoat. There was a distinct heaviness in the air as we stepped out of the van, one by one, to greet the family waiting for us.

Harry spoke with them while the rest of us stood near the van.

We learned that the family believed unusual activity on the property had intensified. Two family members had even experienced physical incidents at the same time—events serious enough to send them to the hospital.

After the quick introductions we began to walk the perimeter of the property.

“The center of it seems to be over that hill,” the adult son said, pointing behind the house. He showed us the stitches on his head then explained that a securely strapped board had inexplicably fallen from the rafters.

“Yeah, the board came out of nowhere,” he said and shared that his mother became gravely ill at the same time which caused their recent stays in the hospital.

“We’ll make sure to go to that spot,” Harry said.

Oddly enough, I felt no fear.

As we moved through the front yard, Dumbledoris established her command center beneath a beautiful maple tree.

“I’ll just work from here,” she said, strolling toward the tree—cane in one hand, lawn chair in the other.

The only thing missing was a wand.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I—AKA Dorothy—set out to walk the rest of the property.

Harry beat his drum, its steady rhythm vibrating through the air as Hermione and Ron held their hands open to receive whatever they were sensing.

Dorothy was just along for the ride.

Until the wind kicked up.

Something shifted.

I stopped.

Then I knelt on the ground.

And suddenly, inexplicably, it felt as if my former kindergarten students were all around me.

I wasn’t remembering them.

I was feeling them.

The drumming stopped.

“Anyone notice anything different?” Harry asked.

I spoke before I had time to question myself.

“Children. There are children here.”

And then, as clearly as I knew anything in that moment, I felt the voice of my guide:

This is why you are here.

To be continued…

Part Two of So Much for Smudging: CLICK HERE

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this blog - this was certainly an adventure...or shall I say, "ED-venture" because I learned a great deal!