To read parts one and two, go back to Home and scroll down

Part Three (final)

But, will He forgive me?

As the sun inched closer to sunset, we continued on the same path that seemed to have so many deceased people who were willing to speak. I didn’t expect to encounter a child who had zero connection to the mine. Or maybe the child did and I did not how she was connected. Or was this location her place of death many years ago? I’ll likely never know. I just knew I would never stay in this place after sunset. With this much activity in daylight, I could only imagine what would come out after dark.

I pointed to a bush and said, “This child is age five and she keeps pointing like this (up to sky). I think she was kidnapped. Her mouth was covered by someone else’s hands. Someone took her.  I think she was raped and then murdered. I don’t know why she’s pointing to the sky….”

My heart dropped to my stomach when I realized what had happened to her.  

We waited for her to become a bit clearer in what had happened. Rather, I waited for her and everyone waited for me.  

“She’s pointing to the sky because she was always told that’s where she would go when she died. She knows she has died. But she’s not in Heaven now. She’s confused why she’s not in Heaven like she was told.”

“My mommy said if I listened to God, I’d go to Heaven,” she said.

“I listened, I listened,” she added as if to convince me she had done as her mother told her.

“She was sleeping on the porch. A screened-in, covered porch. It was hot and that’s where she was taken from. People were looking for her. The two men who harmed and killed her were white and large and almost looked like brothers. With this little girl, we can help her feel safe enough to cross over. She may think she did something wrong which is why she’s not in Heaven.”

We offered her a feeling of safety and love to cross over. All she needed was to hear that it was ok to go.

“The Speaker is here to help her cross over,” I said and then realized some of them may not know who the Speaker is.

“The Speaker is the one in Silent Whispers…” I added.

“Silent Whispers? Oh, I haven’t read it yet because people told me it was scary!” Jaylene said.

“Well, maybe parts. But…THIS is Silent Whispers. What we’re doing now!”

“Oh!”

It’s not that scary…

Soon thereafter, I noticed a tall being in front of the tree. A very tall being. After I informed everyone what I saw, we stopped and I listened and repeated.

“You have assisted more than you can see. What it is to understand, is that not all want to cross over. Because as long as they hold onto their blame, they will stay in their pain. There are ones still in the coal mine who will refuse to come out. Because they have chosen a life of suffering. There is assistance waiting for them. But do not assume all will want it. You have assisted some and for that, much gratitude is offered to you.”

He nodded to all of us.

“There are more children than what was spoken of. Because they were seen as easy money. Easily manipulated. Some were even murdered. Much greed and corruption occurred, but before the time of 1924. This is simply a time noted on paper. There were other occurrences and other locations you already know of. Be warm in your hearts for there is love directed at you now. There is one more for you to seek, who is willing to speak on this day,” the being continued.

Looking around, I quickly noticed another person.

“Up there, at that rock.”

We inched a bit closer to where he was standing, ready to hear his story.

“Not a child, but a teenager. Age 17. Bryan. I think his name was spelled with a Y, but it’s not that important. He’s not saying anything. Barbara, would you like to help?” I said, turning to Barbara.

“What would you like to say, Bryan?” she asked.

“His mom. His mother was sick. Bedridden, sick. He would still go to work in the mine. He’s giving me the impression there was no father around. He also gives me the impression he was good in school and enjoyed it. He wanted to go far in his education,” I said.

“They paid me less than the others, knowing I had no backbone to say different. But they gave my mother medicine for free. I had no choice but to stay.”

“What happened to you, Bryan?” Barbara gently asked.

“The day everything crashed. I didn’t want to go to work that day. I had a bad feeling, but my mom was coughing up blood. I knew I had to keep going to get her medicine. I couldn’t just say I wouldn’t go.”

“He was pretty far in (the mine). He is showing me coughing – he was preparing to leave so he could get his breath. He heard crashing. One of the younger boys – the little one earlier – this kid ran toward the younger one after hearing the crash,” I said.  

“But I couldn’t make my way out.”

“Bryan, you’re a kind loving son and you did what you did for a very good reason. You have nothing to feel bad about and your mom is waiting for you. All you have to do is choose to leave (here).”

“He has not left because he feels guilty since he wanted his mother to pass. She was already going to pass; he didn’t want to see her suffer anymore. He wanted her to pass and he’s carrying a lot of guilt that stops him from crossing over,” I said.

“Your mother is in a much better place, it’s ok that you wanted her to pass and she could leave her painful body,” Barbara offered.

“But will HE forgive me?”

He meant God.

“Of course, God is love. Love doesn’t carry judgment, shame or guilt. The door’s there, all you have to do is walk through it. And be with those you love and be done with chains of guilt and shame,” Barbara said while Jaylene verbally agreed.

“Thank you for listening.”

“We love you, Bryan,” Barbara and Jaylene offered.

“He’s leaving, and I think we’re done here!”

We turned to head down the path and after only a moment, someone appeared. Not to share their story, but to offer something to us.

“Standing along some trees, there are at least three young men and an older man. They all have their helmets on their chest and they’re saying thank you. And they are meeting their family right now…”

We all stood there acknowledging their presence and gratitude while I heard Barbara, Jaylene, Robert and Dennis express kindness toward them out loud.

All of us felt sad for the ones who stuck around for so long (in our reality of time) and also glad for the ones who chose to cross over. We especially felt sad for the children…but we knew they were being guided into their next journey…hopefully free from pain.

Epilogue

Our next stop was across the road to the cemetery. Another place I’d prefer not to be after dark…

In the cemetery there many, many unmarked graves with only a cross with the date of the explosion/collapse. There were only one or two stones engraved with names (for deceased in the mine explosion). Interestingly, one of them was Slavensky, which might be a familiar name to many people I know. Frank Slavensky was a friend of Jaylene’s and she said he had family who lived in the area years ago.

My husband, Robert, had previously visited the town museum that has a dedicated room for the mine explosion with a list of names of the deceased. He found two or three Harrison’s, my maiden name. My father’s parents had much larger families (as was common decades ago) and it’s not out of the realm of possibility my grandfather’s family had family here. Robert said someone had written a report on the collapse and though an explanation was given for the explosion, they don’t really know how it happened. I bet someone knows…I just haven’t met him (or her).

Pictures below