The Haunting on a Hill
Did ghostly souls live in my house? There was no doubt about it. There was only one thing I could do: Call on Archangel Michael to bless my house.
I enlisted the aid of a well-known feng shui expert to begin work on clearing the house of its dank, cloying energy. He doused the property and pointed out a couple of powerful ley lines that intersected below the house. We hammered copper pipes into the ground across them, hoping this would calm the energy down, and we moved furniture around in my son’s bedroom. When the man had done all he could, he left me with a recommendation to call in a specialist to perform an exorcism. A what?! Okay, an exorcism. But who do I call? He didn’t know. This wasn’t something that could easily be looked up in the yellow pages.
Right then I began firmly telling myself that I had to get a handle on this situation. I simply pushed aside the feeling that I was totally out of my depth, yet I didn’t know where to turn. I kept getting an image in my mind of a stained-glass window in an old Gothic cathedral. This was my only association with the term exorcism at the time. With nothing else to go on, I decided to search among the dusty shelves of antique bookstores for anything I could find on medieval exorcisms.
It was in one of these bookstores that I happened upon an illustration of Archangel Michael in a brilliant stained-glass panel of an English church. The gilt-edged book mentioned prayers for calling upon the archangel’s assistance when dealing with “daemons.” I noticed I’d been holding my breath for a long time and was starting to sweat. This was the nearest I’d come to a description of how to exorcise a haunted house.
The book said: “Michael is the prince of the heavenly armies. The faithful call upon him in all dangers of soul and body and implore his intercession at the hour of death that their souls may by him be brought before the throne of God.”
As I jotted down these words, I could no longer deny the reality and extent of the haunting, and I understood how truly helpless we were. I’d been thinking that I somehow had the power to make a stand to protect my family amid the swirling legions that moved at liberty through our house each night. I was in way over my head, but Michael was throwing me a lifeline. I began to breathe through my tears.
I’d been raised in a diluted Christian tradition, which placed no emphasis on the dramatic presence of archangels. Now as I stood in that old bookshop that morning, gazing at the image of Michael aiming his mighty spear at the terrible beast pinned under his shoe, I knew that I’d found the right man for the job.
|The Miracles of Archangel Michael|
By Doreen Virtue