CHRISTMAS is only six or seven weeks away, a fact that truly delights me.
With two young kids and a bunch of family traditions that celebrate the ‘silly season’, I look forward to this time of the year as much as (if not more than) my four-year-old!
But last night, I was reminded that not everyone views Christmas as “the most wonderful time of the year”.
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Last night, I drove to Brisbane to see John Edward give a series of live readings. For those who aren’t familiar, he’s a psychic medium from the US who helps to connect people with their loved ones on the “other side”.
Two rows in front of me, there were three separate groups sitting in a line. John zoned in on them soon after taking the stage.
“I’m getting the date 12/25 with a red rose, which means someone passed on that day,” he said.
All three groups nodded in agreement; it turns out they had all lost someone on Christmas Day. What gut-wrenching timing.
Now, I know that everyone has different views on what they believe happens “next”. Some believe in God, or in no God, or in a universal energy; some believe that we go on to a better (or worse) place, others believe we go nowhere at all.
I had a, shall we say, robust discussion with a relative about this very topic over the weekend. She believes physics and mediums are all smokes and mirrors – that they use credit card details and Google to track down personal information on audience members.
I’m not sure what I believe about the ever after. I believe in something, I’m just not sure what that something is. But when it comes to JE, I reckon he’s the real deal.
Last night in Brisbane, he began talking to a family about someone being buried in an item of clothing that their living relative still has.
“I don’t know this is possible,” he said, “but I’m seeing that the person was buried in a dress, like a wedding dress or something big and fluffy, and yet somehow you still have the dress. How is this possible?! Was someone buried in a wedding dress and you cut off a section and kept it?”
It turns out that a young mum had buried her tiny daughter in a dance costume with a fluffy tutu; her dance teacher had kindly made two exact styles, one for the little girl to be buried in and another for mum to keep with her.
Did John and his team find that info on Google? I highly doubt it. But even if they did… You should have seen that poor, grieving mum. John gave her an incredible gift as for a moment, she felt she was connecting with her precious little girl.
And that moment was worth a million Christmas mornings, and then some.
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