Thursday, October 1, 2020

Guides and angels and spirits - Oh, my!

I am currently taking an online course with Sara Wiseman on intuition and psychic development, how to tune in to Spirit. Today's topic was Guides and Angels. I am a firm believer in all things like this and I am thoroughly enjoying this course. It is opening my eyes and mind to so many things.

Part of today's lesson was to think back to our experiences and see where we may have been the recipient of angelic intervention. I have always been aware of one such incident but it was only after today's introspection that I was able to see an even bigger picture. Bear with me, please. This will be a little long but I think you will find it interesting.

Several years ago, I was driving home from an errand in town. It was early afternoon and I was one block away from home. As I came to the intersection, a car to my right ran the stop sign. I didn't have one on my road so by the time I saw him it was too late. I was already in the intersection, having assumed that he would stop. I fully expected he was going to T-bone me on the passenger side. However, that didn't happen. I remember looking at him and seeing him look back at me and then my car felt fluid. Somehow, I was able to actually steer around the front of his car and I came to a stop just past the intersection. He was gone but I was all right. I went home and cried from the stress and got a big hug from John.

But the story doesn't end there.

This part requires some background. I have believed for many years that at some point in my past (think previous lives) I have either been a race car driver or at the very least, I drove a stick shift. Mind you, I do not even know how to drive a stick shift in this life. Never learned and don’t care to. All my cars have had automatic transmissions. Yet, there have been times when I have been cruising along, bopping to some good music, and suddenly I would find myself reaching for the clutch with my left foot and grabbing the gear shift with my right hand as if to shift the car. It has always been a smooth reaction, a natural body movement. In addition, I have often had a vague feeling of being in a car crash, possibly fiery and life-ending. In fact, once when I was in this mode, I heard ambulance sirens and started to pull over to let it go by only to realize that there was no ambulance in sight.

So, back to my story.

John was diagnosed with skin cancer on his left shoulder in October 2007. He was scheduled for surgery to be performed in the doctor’s office in Scottsdale. On October 23, 2007, at a little after Noon we headed out for the surgeon’s office. We were in John’s car and he was driving. We were barely out of our home town of Fountain Hills when his car’s engine started to make some funny noises. Naturally we were worried that something was wrong. The plan was for me to drive us home after the surgery and if something bad happened with the car John would be unable to help. We decided to turn around and return home to get my car. Twenty minutes later we were back on the road. This time I was driving. A few minutes later, we approached the light at 56th Street and Shea Boulevard, a major cross street. There were three lanes of traffic going in both directions with an extra lane for turning. I was at the light in the middle lane heading west on Shea with one car – a white compact - ahead of me. The light turned green and I proceeded into the intersection. Suddenly, a school bus from the opposite direction and in the turning lane turned into our path. The driver was clearly turning against the light and I had no idea why he was. All I knew is that we were going to hit him head on.

I saw the bus hit the rear of the car in front of us and his bumper went flying. I saw nothing but yellow in front of me and then my body just kicked in. From somewhere in my head I heard “You have done this before.” My left foot shot out and hit the brake. My right hand grabbed the shift and I downshifted. I grabbed the steering wheel and gave it a hard right and then hit the gas. Then I quickly swerved left. The car felt fluid in my hands as if it was gliding around the front of the bus.

All the while I kept hearing that voice in my head. “You’re fine. You’ll be OK. You’ve done this before.”

And somehow…somehow…our car came to a stop in the middle of the intersection and the now stopped bus was behind us. The white car was at the far-right curb and the pissed off driver was standing next to it. But John and I were never hit. Not a scratch on the car or us.

We made it to the surgeon’s office with time to spare.

When we got home, I started John’s car. The noise was gone. The car ran fine and we never had a problem with it after that.

I always thought the voice telling me I had done this before was referring to my thoughts about having driven a stick shift. Now, I know I was wrong. Today I finally pieced it together. The voice was referring to the first near miss with the man who ran the stop sign. That must have been practice for this bigger event.

I am blessed.


Saturday, September 12, 2020

Grief can be a gift

I know - I hear you. You are screaming at me that I am crazy. Grief is NOT a gift. It's a hard cruel trick life has played on us. The life we expected is gone forever and nothing will be all right ever again.

But bear with me for a moment.

I said grief can be a gift. And it can. And I acknowledge that that is only one small part of grief. Most of grief is messy and stomach churning and exhausting and so very very hard. But there is a small aspect of grief that can be a gift and that happens slowly and only when we are in the healing stage, that stage when we are able to see outside of the well of grief that we are in.

It happens very subtly. 

One day you notice that you still love your loved one so very much - maybe even more than ever - and it makes you feel happy - happy that you had a life with them, grateful for their love, grateful for the wonderful memories. They still live in your heart and your memories. That is a gift.

You may find yourself opening up more to the world around you, letting people in, treasuring friends who have stood by you. I have never been one to show my emotions but now I am more open to my feelings and I share those feelings with close friends - and you. That is a gift.

John was an inspiration to me and still is. He was a loving, generous man, able to forgive those who hurt him - and there were some who hurt him a lot. I am trying to emulate those qualities because I am just beginning to be able to do that. That is a gift.

I have learned that life is precious and nothing is promised. I am learning to enjoy what is in front of me instead of pining for what could be or something I wish for in the future. I stop and appreciate a sunrise, a hummingbird floating in front of me, coffee with a friend, a silly antic from my dog or one of my cats. That is a gift.

I have always tended to catastrophize. Having experienced the big thing of grief, I now don't sweat the small things so much. I am more willing to let things go - a perceived slight, feeling frustrated about how a certain situation "should" be, life not going my way. I don't have to have all the answers. I don't have to fix every circumstance. The Beatles' song "Let It Be" is my new mantra. That is a gift.

I bet you can find gifts too if you think about it. They don't
have to be huge. That's the beauty of a gift.  In fact just the act of thinking gifts from grief are possible is a gift.


Friday, August 28, 2020

An anniversary gift

Today is our wedding anniversary. 

39 years ago today I married my best friend, my soul mate, my Twin Flame. The person who knows me best in all the world, who always has my back, who loves me as I have never known love.

And today I miss him so much.

I asked for a sign, a special sign for our day.

And John came through!

This morning, I walked Bella in our backyard, first thing in the morning as always. Then we came inside and I gave her her breakfast. But she asked to go out again afterwards. I thought this a little odd, but oh, well. She knows what she wants.

As soon as we went outside she went over to something on the deck.

When I checked it out, it was a beautiful owl feather! It had not been there before when we went out. It was right in our path. We would have had to pass it. No, this was newly arrived. Maybe John told Bella to go outside so that I would see his gift? As it turned out, she didn't want to "do" anything except sniff around. But if we hadn't gone out just then, I might never have received this wonderful anniversary present from John.



Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart!

Thank you!

I love you!


Friday, August 14, 2020

Our departed loved ones never leave us

This pandemic has all of us on edge. I am no exception. In fact, I am probably the poster child for worry these days. 

I have OCD tendencies. Add in my nursing knowledge and you can visualize how I have become a cleaning fool.

Last weekend was a perfect example. I finally gathered up my will power and ventured out to get gas for my car. The idea of interacting with the world was crippling. I have not been out of the house in months but I promised myself I would do this. I needed to do this.

It went well. But coming back home I worried what I had infected my car with. So I brought out the Lysol spray and wipes and cleaned, cleaned, cleaned my car. In so doing I noted a flashing light under the dashboard that I swore I had never seen before.

 I checked my car manual. Wasn't there.

I googled and couldn't find an answer.

So, I ruminated.

After an hour of searching, I decided to bring the car into the driveway so I could get a better look [I had been cleaning the car in the garage].

As I drove the car into the driveway I had a sudden strong whiff of John's cologne. By this time, the Lysol smell had dissipated. There was no mistaking what I was now aware of. It was Obsession For Men, what John always wore.

I took this to not only be a sign from him that he was with me but that I should not be worrying. 

Sure enough, another Google search got me my answer. The light was for the anti-theft device on the car and was telling me that it was working. Why I never saw it before I don't know.

The bigger takeaway for me was that I was not alone. and for that I am grateful.

The worry is still there. Some days it's worse than others. 

But I am comforted knowing John is still with me, still watching over me, still aware of what is going on with me.

It's a lesson for all of us.


Sunday, August 2, 2020

The dreaded "You need to move on"

For those of you who have lost someone you loved and miss so much now - how many times were you essentially told you were mourning too much and it was time to "move on"?

The last thing we want to do is move on and leave our loved one behind. Yes, it’s natural to cling to their memory, to thoughts of the life we had with them. But looking down the road without them is not only frightening and upsetting, it will make us feel worse. It’s hard enough to miss them now. But the thought of never having another conversation, another hug, another memory together, can be downright shattering.

So, we get our feathers ruffled when someone tells us we are supposed to move on. But I am not talking about stagnating in place and not getting on with the business of living either.

Remember the character Miss Haversham from Charles Dickens novel Great Expectations? Miss H was a wealthy spinster who fell in love with a young man who conspired with her relative to swindle her out of her riches. On her wedding day, while she was wearing her wedding dress and preparing to go to the ceremony, she received a letter from her fiancĂ© and she realized that she had been defrauded and the wedding was off. She was both humiliated and heartbroken and suffered a mental collapse. She lived the rest of her life stuck on that day – living alone, wearing her wedding dress, keeping the clocks set at the exact time when she received the fateful letter, and leaving the wedding breakfast and wedding cake on the table. So, I do not want us all to turn into little Havershams. But neither am I advocating that we go on as if our loved one is gone and it has not affected us.

That we move on as so many tell us, and continue as if we have not suffered one of the greatest losses life can throw at us, is cruel and heartless. It does a disservice to us who mourn. So, what do we do? We move forward, incorporating our loss into who and what we are now and we create a new relationship with our loved one, making them part of the different life we are living.

Is this pure fantasy on our part? Do our loved ones want to be part of our continuing life here on Earth? Does love really go on after death? I hear your skepticism. I had it too. And believe it or not, even after all this time since John has passed and thinking that surely people know me by now and know how I feel and what I believe, I still get remarks from some people telling me that John wants me to be happy but only if I move on and let him go; that my clinging to him and our love is “holding him back”.

Nothing could be farther from the truth.

And I know that because John told me that himself. I had a reading earlier this year from the wonderful evidential medium Mollie Morningstar.  You might remember from my first book that Mollie gave me my first one on one reading back in 2011. This was my third reading with her. She brought through new information that no one could have known. But one particular bit of information stood out and it was something John said to me through her in the very beginning of the reading. John started out by singing a song to me. John had a beautiful voice and sang semi-professionally when he was alive. He often serenaded me while playing along on his guitar. This time he was singing and telling Mollie that he was so in love with me. And he also said that our love had grown, that it continued to grow, that his love for me had expanded. He wanted to share that information. It made him happy. He said the torch of his love still burned brightly and we were still in love.

We – not me – not just him – WE.

And it was all right if I chose to remain single. It was up to me.

That was a powerful and important message for me. But it is also important for you, too. Whether it is a spouse, or a friend, or a relative – that love, that relationship, is not dead. The love is not stagnant or gone either. It goes on. It grows. It doesn’t hold us back and it doesn’t hold them back. It also doesn’t mean that we can’t remarry (if we choose to) or that we can’t keep living and enjoying our life here on Earth. It does mean that we can continue in relationship with that person in whatever way we want to. And we don’t have to justify that to anyone.

I have also experienced benefits from practicing this new form of communicating and intimacy. By focusing on Spirit, I have come to a new level of my own spiritual practice. I have learned new aspects of what I believe the Afterlife to be. None of this would have happened for me if I had not pursued a new relationship with John, if I had not been forced through necessity of learning how to continue our love and relationship with him in his new vibration.

I wish the same for you.