Mothers' Messages from Beyond

Grandmother ghost with child
Photo: Ralf Nau Stone / Getty Images

True stories of mothers' love that reaches beyond life and death

There is no denying that mothers have profound connections with their children, connections that go deeper, perhaps, than our current understanding. Sometimes this can extend into the realm of the psychic and even transcend the boundary between life and death. Here are some true stories of a mother's care told by the sons and daughters who experienced them.

And the final story is of my own mother's message from beyond, which I received in 2012.


It was January, 2000. My mother had died in December, 1999. I had been living with a man for about two months. We checked into a cheap motel. He left for a job at around 9:50 p.m., leaving me alone for awhile. Back then, you had to pay up to $30 to have your phone in the room turned on. There was no way we could afford it.

Come 10 p.m., the motel phone rang. I looked at it and was scared. I answered it on the second ring. "Hello?" I said.

I heard lots of static. The voice on the other line said, "Hello?" It sounded just like my mother!

Again I said "Hello?"

"Hello?" the voice repeated in a worried voice. I clearly recognized my mother's voice when she was worried. She said hello again, and the static became worse. Her voice faded out, still saying "Hello." But it was the worry in her voice that got to me.

I was in trouble emotionally. "MOM!" I yelled! Finally the static became so bad I could not hear her anymore.

I hung up the phone, then picked it up a minute later. The dial tone came back clear as a bell. Two seconds later, the phone went dead. I truly believe that was my mom. She was trying to communicate with me.

She was one heck of a mother. -- Jenny


This story took place in Scranton, Pennsylvania in 1925. My mother was 13 years old at the time. She lived with her sister and her mother. Her married (other) sister, after giving birth to her first child, developed a serious infection, which required her to remain in the hospital for treatment. The baby was being cared for by my grandmother and my mother and aunt.

One evening, my aunt and grandmother went to the hospital to visit my aunt; my mother stayed at home to care for the baby. It was a warm and still September night with no wind or bad weather. The baby was sleeping and my mother was doing her homework.

Suddenly, the window, which was open, began to rattle strongly and the baby began crying uncontrollably. My mother tore pieces of paper from her notebook and packed them between the window and the window frame in an effort to stop the banging. There was no wind that could have caused this. She then held the baby and tried everything possible to calm him, to no avail.

She looked at the clock and it was 9:45 p.m. When my aunt and grandmother got home, the next door neighbor said that she received a phone call from the hospital for my grandmother (my grandmother didn't have a phone in her home).

My grandmother called the hospital and was told that my aunt had died shortly after my grandmother and aunt had left from their visit. The time of her death was 9:45 p.m.

Did my aunt stop to visit her baby after she died? We'll never know, but this story really did happen. - Chris


This took place in Columbus, Ohio. One day in May, I came into work and a friend, knowing I had an interest in "spooky stories", pulled me aside to tell me what had happened to her during the time she had just been on leave, handling her mother's funeral arrangements.

My friend Celia and her daughter Doris had gone back to her recently deceased mother's apartment to get the clothes and shoes for the funeral home to dress the lady for her viewing. Her mother had just purchased a very pretty, deep purple dress, and Celia decided to choose that to take to the funeral home.

However, she couldn't find any matching shoes.

Celia called her sister, very upset that she and her daughter had gone through the whole place, knowing the shoes were there, and couldn't find them. They finally decided to just use the shoes their mother had when she entered the hospital: flat, dark tan shoes.

Celia and Doris gathered the clothing and were ready to leave when Doris received a text message. Celia asked who it was from. Doris sent a text back asking who it was, since she didn't recognize the number. Then she brought the phone over to her mother to see the message:

"The shoes weren't in the closet. Don't worry. I will borrow some from a friend."

There was never any reply to the "Who is this?" response Doris sent. And then Celia realized that the last four digits of the phone number the message came from were 0525 -- the date of Doris's birthday: May 25. -- Karen

Next page: Mom's Saving Voice, and more.


ESP is an accepted part of my family. Especially the women. I often joke with my mother, "Can't you just call me on the phone like other mothers?" There have been instances in my life that weren't funny, and each time I have thanked God and my lucky stars for my mom and those abilities.

In August of 1975, I was 18 and living away from home. I had decided to take my clothes to the laundromat behind the restaurant where I worked, and since it was almost ten o'clock at night, I thought I would help my boyfriend, who also worked there as a cook, close up while my things were in the machine.

After setting my things to wash, I walked the short way to the back of the restaurant and immediately developed some kind of "fixation" on a rather nondescript, gold-colored car. I even turned around to look at it a final time before entering the back of the kitchen area. Once inside, I started to walk to the front of the kitchen area and then decided against it and simply leaned against a door area where I could not be seen from the front.

It became quiet and, thinking that the last of the evening patrons had left, I started to take a step to go into the restaurant when I heard my mom's voice, as though she were standing there say, "Kris, don't move!" So I didn't! And after a minute or two the waitress on duty came screaming to the back about something being "alright" and grabbed the phone to call the police because they had just been robbed at gunpoint!

I was to learn that had I walked into view of the doorway, I would have seen my boyfriend lying face down on the floor, the waitress and the few customers on their knees, and I would have been directly behind the gunmen who were so nervous I probably would have been shot when I startled him.

I called my mom after this happened and she said, "I'm glad you called. You've been on my mind and I've been worried about you!" The Lord keep her and bless her! -- Kris


My first child was born four months after my mother died. I was married in my home town in Texas and started a family immediately.

I began to notice my husband was very unstable and couldn't keep a job long enough to lay down roots, but being from a very religious family, I stayed with him and "did the right thing." We struggled financially, moved from one run-down rental to another, depending on the church for many things we needed just to survive. It was totally humiliating!

After five years, our second daughter was born, and by that time I could tell my life was not going to improve unless I got out and made it happen. She was three when I made the painful decision to go back to Texas and start a career, never to look back. I started going on interviews. My confidence was low and my experience sparse. But one day, feeling very hopeful, I went on an interview and for some reason the job seemed like answered prayer. It was perfect for me, and I was down to my last ounce of hope for getting hired.

Then the call came: I was turned down! I remember almost collapsing in my front room on the couch from exhaustion, disappointment, and hopelessness. I didn't understand why my life had to be so hard, so painful, and why I didn't get the job. In my spirit, I must have been crying out for my mother like a small child because I know she came and sat down beside me.

She put her (spiritual) arm around my shoulders, and a said, "Glenda, you don't belong there! You'll find the right job for you!" Although there were no words spoken, the message was loud and clear, and I was filled with such hope and calm and peace.

Now, 15 years later, I am well-established, successful, and able to give my children a good home and a mother's undying love. I remember that day like it was yesterday! Thank you, Mom! I know you're there when I need you! -- Glenda


In September, 2012, I had a very vivid dream of my mother, who passed away a few years previous. It was a dream full of symbolism -- and perhaps more.

My mother was the wise, caring mother to 12 children -- 7 girls and 5 boys -- I being the seventh in the lineup. Virtually all of my dreams about family, whether of the one with my brothers and sisters or of my own children, take place in the large house I grew up in.

In this dream, my mother was sitting in a chair on the landing of the stairs that goes from the kitchen to the upstairs hallway in this house. There has never been a chair there, and I think the symbolism here is that she was halfway between this world and the next (half way up).

She looked youthful, perhaps in her early forties, and a few of us children were standing before her. We were small children, all younger than ten. (This is the only dream I can recall having as an adult in which I was a small child.) Suddenly, it looked as though my mother had died, sitting there, and I called out, "Mommy!"

She opened her eyes. She wasn't dead. (More symbolism: Even though she had passed away, she wasn't really gone.) She began to give us a message: She said she didn't have any cake or ice cream for us, but that she had already given us everything that we need. I now interpret this to mean that she could not make life perfect for us -- sweetness and light -- but that she had given us the knowledge, wisdom, and moral center to get through it all. Indeed she had.

The rest, she said, she would leave to Mrs. Perry -- a friend of the family. At first I did not understand the meaning of this, until I realized that Mrs. Perry was my godmother. She was leaving the rest to God?

That was the end of the dream. And we all know from experience that we do not generally remember dreams unless we wake up during them or shortly after. I had this dream in the middle of the night and probably would not have remembered it except for a strange occurrence.

A large poster, which had been rolled up and standing undisturbed in the corner of the bedroom for well over a year, inexplicably fell over, waking me up. Had it not fallen and awakened me, I would not have remembered this wonderful message dream from my mother.

But there is one more facet to this story that makes me feel that it was more than just a dream. I was so moved by this experience that I wanted to share it with my brothers and sisters. I logged on to our family website, where we share family news and photos, to tell the story. Before I did so, there was a note from my sister reminding us of something I had forgotten: this day was the anniversary of our mother's death. -- Stephen