Alone...

My office is located in what was once the stake wing addition to a former stake center that was commissioned by Dallin Oaks during his tenure here in Chicagoland.

The building is located in Chicago Heights and it houses one, small ward these days, though it could handle three wards easily with its size.

Most days there are people here using the Family History Center. Today, however, the center is closed and I am alone.

Earlier a potential contractor stopped in to introduce himself and earlier still the missionaries in this district met for a few minutes in the Relief Society room located at the opposite end of the building from my secluded wing.

I have never felt at ease when I have been alone in our meetinghouses. This one is particularly eerie as it is nearly 50 years old and it comes with a variety of ghosts. I have not seen these ghosts but I hear them often. I hear them walking down the dark hallways. I hear them opening doors to classrooms. Once I swear I heard a number of them playing basketball in the gym.

Even though I assume they are good ghosts, I am never quite comfortable when they are playing.

I remember hearing a story, years ago, during the New York World's Fair. One night, after the fair had closed for the day, a custodian entered the Mormon Pavilion to do his normal cleaning and found a number of people, all dressed in white, sitting in the replica of a chapel while someone else, also in white, was speaking to them from the pulpit. He closed his eyes and shook his head and, upon opening his eyes the group had disappeared. When he told this story to someone in charge of the pavilion the next day, it was explained to him that those in the Spirit World are always in need of placed to learn the gospel.

While the story clearly makes no sense and, therefore, must have been invented, something about it still sticks in my craw just enough to make me make lots of noise when I walk around the building. Enough noise to disturb anyone preaching to a bunch of dead people.

I sometimes think about shutting my office door and locking myself in but I always return to the conclusion that locked doors mean nothing to ghosts and that, should one decide to show himself to me, the locked door would hamper my get-away.

I am not generally afraid of things but in this particular phobia, I am not alone. How many times did angels appear to people and began their greeting with "FEAR NOT!"? I hope they said it quietly and calmly.

So far the ghosts here have been satisfied with merely allowing me to hear them. I haven't gone around a corner and caught a glimpse of one just before he poofs himself invisible. Perhaps that's because I tend to close my eyes when I go around corners when I am the only one in the building.

Tomorrow I won't be here very much and when I am, I won't be alone. My next appointment with solitude here is on Friday and then I am off for the weekend when I can screw up my courage again without interference from the spirits.