What you get out of something clearly depends on what you put into it.
The children are putting many things into their visit with their grandmother, and it seems to be going well. Mostly. Of course, it wouldn’t be our children unless Captain Oblivious and Ditto Boy pulled at least one caper. Apparently, they dragged out their Dr. Destructo act and somehow broke the chains on one half of their grandmother’s porch swing, crashing to the ground, taking out the table with the vase of flowers. Ditto Boy says it was C.O.’s fault (what a shock!); C.O.’s comment was that he couldn’t find a swing setting on the thing. Which, since it wasn’t electronic, was probably true. If somewhat irrelevant.
Little Miss, on the other hand, is enjoying the unstructured time and spending a lot of time out at the barn where her grandmother’s horses are kept. She has always been sensitive to animals, and them to her. Her support class has gone horseback riding for several years now, so she is used to horses. She will go up to the fence, and they’ll come over to her so she can feed them by hand.
We have put many things into our week as well. The house is at last clean and uncluttered, the yard in mid-tend; the garden is bringing us fresh chemical-free vegetables daily. We visited a local winery for a wine-tasting. We’ve slept!! I finished the first edit on my new manuscript. The Cabana Boy toyed with his World of Warcraft for days. I even got some work accomplished at the office. Today we’ll be off to the Great Lakes Medieval Faire, where the Cabana Boy will don his killer Irish accent for a day and we’ll eat, drink and make merrie.
But I’d have to say the most interesting point of the week was our visit to Lily Dale. We’ve been meaning to go for several summers now, just to see. A friend recommended a particular medium who had been accurate in the past, so we made an appointment to see her and then spent the rest of the day on the grounds.
I walked a labyrinth, which I had not done before; thought-provoking experience. We studied the artifacts at the library, which has a huge collection of Susan B. Anthony documents and history. The service where various mediums handed out messages from beyond, a la John Edwards, was great theater, at least; some of it felt less than sincere to me. The Cabana Boy pointed out how he could do better than that, just with the techniques he’d picked up from various evangelists when he was studying ministry years ago.
I have to say, though, that he does have gifts in the psychic area. He often acts on a thought that I have–he reads me that well. He also has studied many manners of healing–the only thing that helps me through with my fibromyalgia some days. He says when he finds someone who is similarly gifted, a resonant buzz of sorts comes to his head. One of the four ladies who spoke at the service did this for him, as did the woman with whom we met. Our reading was half an hour, sitting in a small, cool room just off the front porch of a pretty little house on Marion Street. The medium made a CD of the session on her laptop that we could take with us–a nice touch.
I hadn’t had a psychic reading before, but I was determined not to be one of those folk who jump at every vague suggestion and give too much information. The Cabana Boy agreed, so we listened more than we spoke. She seemed almost surprised to be saying what she did; the messages she was getting were not those of the usual sort. She saw a butterfly over us, she said, which showed a new beginning. She determined that we would sell our house and get a new one, something about a castle, with turrets. She picked up his Native American ties as well as the fact that the house we are now in is haunted. (Both true.) We asked about two sets of our children, and she nailed both situations without a word from us. She even confirmed my inner belief that E and I have met before, in one or more previous lives, particularly in Victorian times, when then, as now, he was my support as I worked for causes in which I believed.
But the most startling revelation for all three of us was her insistence that we belonged at Lilydale. E, especially, had many gifts, she said, and he could give messages or participate in the healing services. It came out of her mouth repeatedly, and each time, she gave a little nervous giggle, as if she couldn’t figure why she’d said such a thing.
Given much food for thought, we thanked (and paid) her, and came on home. We had been teasing before the reading about how he could, in fact do this work; but to hear it from someone else was a little surprising. Could we make a living at it? Assuredly. At $50 a half an hour, he could finally be in my league. The community there is beautiful, set right on a lake. It would be a safe and welcoming place for our special ones to grow up.
So, as I said. Food for thought. No plans to sell our haunted mansion just yet, and no castles on the horizon. But if there’s one thing living through these generations of children has taught me, it’s that you never know what’s just around the corner. Best to approach it all with an open mind and be ready when life strikes.