My Story

Page 3

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At the age of 9, my parents finally had enough money to purchase their first home. They called them the “Golden Medallion Home“ for they were the first all electric home to be built in that area of Greenville, South Carolina. These homes were affordably priced and sufficient in size so that growing family of three kids and one on the way could live with reasonable comforts on a modest military income. In fact, many of the home owners worked on the nearby military base giving the neighborhood a feeling of safety and community. It was a typical winterly day in mid November around 3:00 in the afternoon. My brother and I were the only ones home. Both parents were still at work and my younger sister was in day care. We were just getting the fire started when we heard a loud sharp knock at the front door. The door was near the fire place and the knock was so loud that it startled both of us. Having visitors was not the norm except for those rare occasions when a group of well mannered teenaged boys handing out religious literature or an older gentlemen selling encyclopedias passed by. On one or more occasion, I’d opened the door to these callers. We would engage in a short friendly conversation and off they’d go. But this time was different. My body immediately went into alert. All the hair on the back of my neck stood straight up and a dark heavy feeling of fear come over me as if warning me that whoever was on the other side, was not to be let in at any cost. “No!” I whispered as my brother moved towards the door, “don’t open the door, please don’t open it.” Puzzled, by the urgency in my voice, my brother turned towards me, “what is wrong with you!”, he blurted. He placed his hand on the door knob and before turning, speaking loudly he asked the stranger, “Who’s there? What do you want?”. The person was wearing a hooded jacket and I could see the tip of the hood of the jacket through the small window at the top of the door. No doubt if they stood high enough, they’d definitely see me. So I rushed towards the door, pressing myself as flat as I could against it, pushing my brother’s hand off the door knob at the same time. The stranger relentlessly in his pursuit to get us to open the door, continued knocking for a good five minutes before finally giving up, all the while never answering the questions spewed out by my brother.

Many years later, my brother brought this incident up in casual conversation asking me if I remembered what happen. “ Why I asked?“ He said it had such an impact on him at the time that he never forgot it and that he was so grateful to me for forcing the issue to not open the door for if I had, we would of probably been killed. He then proceed to vividly described the entire event , down to every last detail. What I didn’t know was the aftermath, which after hearing, sent chills down my spine and I was grateful that I stood my ground. He told me that the people who lived two doors down from us had been murdered that same day. The police had come by the next day asking questions. My brother told them about our experience but it wasn’t much help to the police. The only witness the police had was a neighbor who lived across the street from them who had noticed a man going from door to door ending with success when the lady across the way opened her door. He watched as what appeared to be a short conversation and then she gestured for the man to come in, closing the door behind them. He assumed he was a salesman because he was carrying a brief case so he didn’t give it another thought and went about his business. With no real leads or a clear description of the man, the case was never solved. It wasn’t until I reached my early 20’s did I understand the significance of the spiritual lesson contained in this event. I am now aware of the importance to listen to my inner voice, the voice of intuition for the insight given is always purposeful even if my thinking mind or others tells me otherwise.

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