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Strange encounter

Sallie Satterthwaite's picture

Mysterious stories, spooky as well as benign, often rise with the morning fogs, especially at this somewhat scary time of year. And they titillate those among us who consider ourselves above superstition.

Heaven help the gullible

I don’t think Sophie is gullible. She’s 51, happily married, loves to travel and entertain her friends to celebrate, well, even her own birthday.

I promised I would not give her real name nor that of the airline she flies for. Some people might not take her seriously. She is a senior international flight attendant for one of the major airlines.

The date of this experience was in the last week of July. Sophie was in London, by herself, and had about three hours until her flight was due to leave. It was a pretty day and she was doing a lot of thinking. Retirement looms, and there are decisions to make.

Do you know Kensington Gardens Park? It’s one of the largest of London’s wonderful green spaces, filled with flowers, dogs, playing children, and the Queen’s swans, gliding imperiously on the little brooks that crisscross the park.

Sophie said she noticed a man moving toward her, a man wearing a turban head covering and “dressed in business casual.” At no time did she feel threatened; to the contrary, she said she felt very calm, almost serene.

He greeted her pleasantly and began to ask her questions. “He said that the lines on my forehead indicated that I was to live a happy, healthy life,” Sophie said. “However, I do not sleep as well as I should..I take too much on my mind to bed with me. I need to release and let myself sleep.

“He was right on the money,” she said. “As he was talking to me, he was asking me a few questions and informing me of my star-and-moon alignment.

And he was writing on a small piece of paper.

“After one or two minutes, he handed me this small piece of paper, folded, and asked me to hang on to it. He also showed me [a picture] of the holy man he was studying under. Another couple of minutes passed and he asked me some specific questions.”

The questions were as follows: What is your favorite garden flower? Answer: Gardenia.

“He asked me to pick a number between 1 and 9. I paused and answered ‘8.’”

Her birth date? Answer: June 15, 1959.

Her grandfather’s name? “Now mind you,” Sophie said firmly, “he did not specify paternal or maternal. The only grandfather I knew was my mother’s father, Fred.

“After he wrote this down, he then asked me to open my folded piece of paper. It had the same four answers!”

“At no time did I feel threatened or uneasy or that sixth sense that God gave us. I felt very calm and happy. The whole thing was maybe eight or 10 minutes.

“I feel that I had a very special visit. As the Bible says, we are entertained by angels, or something to that effect.

“I was also told that I have a very happy and loving man in my life, my husband. Also that my grandfather has said very special prayers for me all my life.”

Sophie’s face glowed as she told her story. I have not known her all that long, but somehow I think she is telling the truth. She speaks with appreciation about her life and and husband, and a career that has let her travel the world.

“I feel very blessed,” she said.

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