There it was, the old Lewistown train station, a momentary stop along the tracks on my way to Philadelphia, rousing sleeping memories. Dad had dropped Mom and me off there for a trip to the New York World’s Fair. I was a senior in high school that autumn.

The only other person in the station was a young guy with a friendly smile. I smiled back and discovered his name was Jim. He was a Penn State student going home to Enola near Harrisburg for the weekend, the next stop down the track.

Mom and I continued on our journey and the following morning, along with Grandma who lived outside the city, squeezed into a massive, crowded elevator that carried us to a monorail zooming to the fair. I glanced around and was more than surprised to see, crammed in the back, a boy I’d double-dated with the weekend before.

I wasn’t entirely at ease with this fellow, he was a little fast and smiled too much. Not like the guy in the station the day before, but as if everything was a perpetual joke. Still, I put on a happy face and we toured the sites together for a few hours.

A few weeks later my identical twin sister Marilyn was serving dinner at Penn State’s HUB cafeteria where we both worked part-time. As she dished up carrots and mashed potatoes a student with a friendly smile paused to speak, supposing they’d met in Lewistown.

Because she worked that night and I didn’t, my sister was invited on a date by the boy from Enola. A college junior, he was teased by friends for dating a high school girl but hey, they just celebrated their golden wedding anniversary.

Chance encounters. A smile, a nod, a conversation. We never know whose paths may cross ours or what stranger may become a friend. Stored in cells that clutter my memory file is something about everyone I’ve ever met, a fading catalog of every interaction and emotion, however brief. I long ago forgot the name of the boy on elevator, but not feeling vaguely uneasy around him.

Places, too, store memories. The Lewistown station opened in 1849, the longest continually operating railroad station in the country. The website nightwatchparanormal.com that records unexplainable activity says locals claim shadowy figures dressed in garments from an earlier era have been photographed there. Some report a cold, odd feeling about the place.

Upon reading that, masked feelings from my own past crawled out of hiding, hunched images of heartaches, veiled in black, packed inside the subliminal regions of my brain like passengers in an over-crowded elevator.

What do I do with apparitions that slip in and out of my mind?

Releasing old emotions is a must for inner healing says Kelly Turner, PhD in Releasing Suppressed Emotions, a chapter in her book, Radical Remission, Surviving Cancer Against All Odds. Turner describes lifestyle changes needed for the possibility of healing to happen. Her stories gird me with hope that I, too, can resist cancer.

I believe God, who is on the side of life, leads me to resources like this. His will is wellness, His nature is wholeness. I want to mirror His character, inside and out. I Corinthians 3:18 says, “And we, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory are being transformed into His image with ever-increasing glory…”

Transformation is at the heart of radical remission. Secure as I am in the depths of God’s love, part of the transformational process is clearing out garbage I’ve allowed to fester within. Getting rid of entrenched emotions is like cleaning the bathtub drain, pulling out stringy hair, dead skin and slime I didn’t know was clogging the pipes.

Coupled with the wonders of grace, it takes a heart willing to mature and change to live unveiled and unafraid before God.

The pages of my Bible and every fiber of my being tell me I’m not alone, although sometimes the way is dark. Even then, “In Him was life, a light to all … shining in the darkness, and darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:4-5 paraphrased.) The family of the Trinity helps me not to flounder when I hit a rough patch, shining a flashlight along my path through the dim corridors of inner healing.

If you sense a need for more light on inner shadows, you’re welcome to join me in praying to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly beyond anything we could ever think or imagine:

Please help me Father to empty myself of everything that isn’t life-giving, knowing You’re my Peace.

I surrender the shadows of my past to You, Jesus, knowing You’re my Counselor.

Reveal phantoms I need to boot out of my memory bank, Holy Spirit, knowing You’re my Deliverer.

All will be well.

Texting Thru Recovery/Indiana Gazette

First image: Conrail/Amtrak; station & sunrise- my pics