Innholdsfortegnelse for August - September 2015 i Mysterious Ways

To paraphrase that icon of a generation James Kirk, captain of the starship Enterprise: “Death, the final frontier.” Or is it? With this issue of Mysterious Ways we introduce a new thematic section, “Here and Hereafter,” which deals with death and the amazing, often inexplicable phenomena that accompany it. In part this powerful new section is the result of all the unforgettable stories you send us on the subject, events that have changed your life or brought you comfort in an hour of darkness. Sometimes they are near-death experiences (NDEs) you have had yourself. Often they are signs sent from heaven that a loved one is at peace. But dying is also getting a lot of attention these days in books and movies and online. I think that’s because the…

My husband, Max, died at 12:44 P.M. on a sunny Saturday in May, surrounded by friends and family in the living room of our Sacramento home. His last breaths were labored. He lay on a narrow hospital bed, his emaciated body propped up to face the patio doors so he could feel the warmth of the sun. I held his hand gently—gently because it felt like all bone, not the hand that had held mine with such strength for the past five years—and read from the Twenty-third Psalm. “He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters.…” A lovely melody suffused the room. Tones so resonant and deep, they could have been coming from one of Max’s classical CDs. I turned and saw the heavy…

On October 30, 2013, Stacy Fenton of Temple, Georgia, had expected to be doing some early holiday shopping with her husband, Keith. Instead, she held white roses at his funeral. His death had been so sudden. Three days after their first wedding anniversary, while replacing a billboard, he fell 70 feet and died instantly. A chill came over Stacy as her husband’s casket was lowered into the ground. She never had the chance to say goodbye. She couldn’t even bear to go home to the house they had shared. Instead, she’d been staying with her parents. Following the service, a friend brought her a package. “I saw this on your doorstep. It looked important,” the friend said. Stacy opened it to find the vanity license plate her husband had ordered…

I couldn’t shake the feeling. Early one recent Sunday morning, I was in a hotel room, packing up at the end of a business trip to Florida, and got an unmistakable conviction that I would spend the next night in a hospital room. It was so strong I even prayed, though I wasn’t sure what I was praying about. I’d had heart surgery years ago, and I’d never felt better. I’d run five miles the day before with no problem. Still, this feeling… When I called for a taxi, I didn’t know whether to tell the driver to take me to the airport or the ER. Only when I got on the plane did I notice a bug bite and a little swelling on the knuckle of my ring finger.…

I sorted through the bins of mismatched shoes and yellowing paperbacks at the church rummage sale. Volunteering at St. Luke’s kept me busy now that I was retired. Over by the racks of clothing, I spotted a familiar face. Diane, a young woman I’d met through church. I hadn’t seen her in some time. “I’m just passing through,” Diane said. “How are you doing?” “Trying to stay busy,” I said. Diane’s bright smile faded. “Oh, Marcia, I’m so sorry,” she said. “Sorry? Why are you sorry?” She looked confused. “I thought you just said that you have cancer.” “No, you must have misheard me,” I said, puzzled. But afterward I ran my hand over the enlarged lymph node on my neck that’d been bothering me for months. It wasn’t painful,…

Edinburgh, Scotland It was the worst gig of 50-year-old DJ Andy Baillie’s life, and not because he’d just broken up with a girlfriend. At the end of the night he lost something even more beloved—his record collection. He’d put it down just for a moment—a large black carrying case with more than 200 records, original releases of classic soul and rock ’n’ roll singles, collected over 30 years and kept in mint condition. Andy got distracted talking with some fans and when he looked up, the case was gone. Nine months later, still despondent, Andy was at a concert chatting with a man in the crowd. Andy mentioned the missing record collection. That’s when the other man said, “I think I’ve got your records at my house!” According to the…

What happens when we die? What happens after? For many survivors of near-death experiences (NDEs), answers to such questions are not pure conjecture. University of North Texas professor Janice Miner Holden, editor of the peer-reviewed Journal of Near-Death Studies, has researched NDEs for more than 25 years, and is convinced there is more that death and dying can teach us about living Does science say NDEs are real or the byproduct of brain trauma? Many scientists believe NDEs are hallucinations caused by lack of oxygen to the brain. They believe that consciousness is a product of physical processes, and therefore NDEs are purely physical phenomena. However, a landmark study by a Dutch cardiologist, Pim van Lommel, reported that a man who was nonresponsive for several days following a heart attack…

It has been 35 years since the night I died on that mountain. My hands still ache anytime the temperature drops below 50, a lasting reminder of what happened. Not that I’d ever be able to forget—and I don’t want to. Back then, clinging to the face of Lower Weeping Wall, an ice flow in the Canadian Rockies, I was terrified of the endless blackness below, the unknown fate that awaited me should I fall. Now I know that there was nothing to be afraid of. I couldn’t feel my fingers, frostbitten from the subzero cold. My body shivered uncontrollably. I was weak from hunger, my muscles spent, nearly useless, after ascending the sheer ice wall with my ax and crampons for 20 hours—nearly twice the time we’d planned for.…

World War II hadn’t begun yet, but the British gunboat HMS Gnat was patrolling the crowded waters of the Yangtze River in China, making sure the Japanese bombers flying overhead, brazenly flexing their military muscle, wouldn’t interfere with traffic and trade. The Gnat had taken on an extra passenger, a sort of mascot or good-luck talisman, but like the sailors she was expected to toe the line, especially when it came time for inspection. And that November day in 1936 the rear admiral had arrived unexpectedly on board. All was shipshape, from bow to stern, from galley to engine room, from bunks to bridge, even the ammunition box that served as a bed for this newest member of the crew— an English pointer named Judy. The admiral began one last…

Why was that car stopped? A white sedan was parked haphazardly on the shoulder, halfway across the Piscataqua River Bridge, which connects Maine and New Hampshire. I eased down on the brake, peered through the window of the sedan as I passed. Nobody in the driver’s seat. No emergency flashers. No sign of life. Truck drivers notice these things. I don’t drive long haul, just local deliveries, but still, the job is lonely, monotonous. Something out of the ordinary jumps out at you. Especially at nine o’clock on a Sunday night in the dead of winter, when traffic is light and the road is dark. A few minutes earlier I’d said goodbye to my wife, Cheryl, and headed to the depot to begin my dreaded Sunday night shift. Now the…

Green. Everywhere. So intense it glows. I breathe in the sweet perfume of orchids and make my way through the lush vegetation. Up a winding dirt path. Waxy leaves on either side tickle my arms. The path grows narrower until it opens onto a grassy field. All at once I see her. She stands in the middle of the clearing. A petite woman with flowing dark hair. Her face tilted toward the sun. Lips moving soundlessly. She turns and greets me with a lopsided grin. A sense of calm enwraps me. Like a hug. She stretches her arms wide. We sit on the soft grass and talk, words I cannot hear. I only know one thing for sure. I’m at peace. My eyes snapped open to a familiar sight. Beige…

More Than Words On the first anniversary of my sister Betty’s death, I was at my local library, desperate for a distraction. Betty had lived more than 150 miles away, but we’d talked constantly on the phone and even written letters, despite her terrible handwriting. For some reason, on this day, I was drawn to one particular book. I opened it to the first page. There, in beautiful penmanship, someone had written the name Betty Green. How odd! That was my sister’s name, although she spelled it Greene, with an e at the end. Still, it was a small comfort. Then I turned the page. Someone else had written a thank-you note. I’d know her scrawl anywhere. How had Betty’s book ended up in this library, on this day? God…

Where do heaven and earth meet? According to Chinese lore, just miles from Zhangjiajie in Hunan Province. In A.D. 263, part of Songliang Mountain collapsed, opening a portal that locals believed to be a link between God and the everyday world. The natural arch became known as Tianmen, or Heaven’s Gate. A temple was later built on the summit. Worshippers had an arduous climb, but modern visitors need only ascend several thousand feet in a cable car, take a bus up a steep road with 99 bends, and then climb 999 stairs—nine is a symbol of eternal life in Chinese culture—to see the ethereal view. As one sightseer said, “You feel like you are walking in the clouds.” Visit more Secret Spaces in our slide show at guideposts.org/secretspaces…

“Oh wow. Oh wow. Oh wow.” Those were the last words of Apple’s cofounder and CEO, Steve Jobs, according to the eulogy his sister gave at his memorial service. Six little words that captured the public’s imagination. Jobs was one of the greatest innovators of our time, a creative genius who brought wonder to the world’s fingertips with products like the iPhone and the iPad. What did his final exclamation mean? What was he experiencing in those last moments? What wonders did he see that surpassed anything in his lifetime on earth? As an editor at Mysterious Ways, I’ve come across many stories from people who have witnessed the unfathomable at their loved ones’ last moments—from cryptic messages, like Jobs’s, to visions of light. Sometimes there’s just a simple, joyful…

Our 28-year-old son, Mark, died in a car accident. My husband, Jim, and I were devastated. Our firstborn son had died when he was only a day old, the year before Mark was born. Were my sons together now, in heaven? I couldn’t stop wondering. I took comfort in my church friends. Especially Liz, a young woman I’d thought would be perfect for Mark. She was kind, trustworthy and had a great sense of humor. But Mark worked as a carpenter in Colorado, far from us. He never got to meet Liz. Three months after the accident, another friend at church told me Liz had some-thing to share with me. “But she’s afraid it will upset you.” Upset me? Why would it? I took Liz aside as soon as I…

I walked up to my office door. Stopped. Stared. I didn’t even want to go in. I’d advertised for more than a year for someone to buy the senior home-care franchise I owned. All the signs were telling me I was stuck with it. And yet deep inside I knew it was time for a change. I’d spent 30 years in the eldercare industry—and for the last seven I’d managed a team of caregivers who visited people in their homes, helping with meals, transportation and housekeeping. The work was rewarding, but now that I’d sprouted more than a few gray hairs myself, I wanted to pursue my childhood dream of becoming a teacher. Unfortunately, I couldn’t start a new career before putting my old one behind me. Finally I had…