Not long after we closed the church, I was privy to experience the church ghost. I already wrote about this- but I haven't seen him since, until this week. Actually, I think I've experienced two somethings, although I'm sure these walls and the earth beneath them must hold so many more shadows and the imprinted essence of people who have passed through this plane of existence. I didn't see this time, I heard.
Twice, I have heard the organ playing. The first time it happened, I ignored it until I could not concentrate on my work because of faint, but steady music playing in the sanctuary. I gave the melody a concrete excuse of "Oh, that's not really what it seems to be, why the AC is just blowing notes like a nose squeaks sometimes, oh well... la la la la la " then I went back to my work.
This week, it happened again. I am so close to recognizing the tune that I found myself humming the notes that floated into the lobby where my post at the front desk sits. I thought, "I didn't even see the organist come in today! Sneaker.." I stood up and walked around my desk and headed toward the sanctuary. I noticed the lights were not on anywhere in there; not at the organ, either. Nobody home. Music, poof! gone. The melody faded into forgotten.
I attributed the musical hallucination to COVID- the catch-all for just about anything awry at the moment. "Pfft!" I shook my head and settled back into my nest,. I didn't think a thing about it until just now.
Yesterday, a staff person reminded me that after our previous organist passed away, his presence and an odd sense of 'something' hung around for a while. The organ played itself on at least one occasion. I had forgotten that. Those days seem so far away from where we are now. His sudden death was such a shock, but she remembered how I had predicted something wasn't right based on his stream. Yes, you read it right, it appears I am known in some circles as a stream-whisperer. Now, stop it. Go clean up the coffee you just spit out and I'll wait. . . . . . . to continue. . . . . . .
My first, and most beloved office is mentioned in many of these fun chronicles, in fact, I still miss that cozy spot that backed up to an alley and sat right next to the men's room. Although I usually kept old time radio shows broadcasting faintly in the background ,as white noise, while I worked, apparently I also began to notice, by the stream noise next door, who was in the men's room and how they were doing. Please, please know how embarrassing this is to share, but it's time I just told you of yet this other thing you'll need to accept about me, the quirky church chick.
It's not like I kept notes on the daily visitors to the restroom on the other side of my office wall! Good Gosh No! The awareness of stream patterns just sprinkled into my subconscious; it slowly dripped in over time and then patterns appeared and before you knew it, I could tell you who was arriving next, and who just left. I could guess pretty closely who needed to hydrate more, who didn't flush, and who didn't wash their hands after. WAY more info than I ever wanted to know about people I had to make eye contact with daily. Really, it was an unforeseen and unexpected burden, but what was I to do? Some things can't be UN-KNOWN. I sure can't put that on my resume and expect to be hired- anywhere. Except maybe Quantico, I mean, sure DNA is a brilliant and miraculous tool, but stream whispering may be in the top ten of best tools to catch criminals with one day, mark my words.
At any rate, our talented organist who isn't alive any more did have stream issues and I worried about what it meant. Then, one day I found out and said, "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh, oHHHHHHHHH, man, saw that comin' and I didn't even know."
So after that, he stayed a while- IN THE SANCTUARY, sometimes in the robe room, then, he just wasn't there anymore. Til now. Maybe he heard us talking about him- maybe he remembered that he missed the organ he helped plan. At any rate, he's been here today, playing again. Everyone was at lunch- out of the building. Well, everyone except the two of us. Maybe I'll get brave and comment on the melody the next time he stops by.
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