Wrapped in love

Change is never easy: even wanted change, expected change, self-instigated (self-inflicted?) change, comes with challenges as we let go of the old, acclimate to the new, and figure out how to live in the strange environment that we now find ourselves in, whether that's actually a new physical environment or just a new and different emotional environment or mindset.  There are always glitches.

There haven't been any major disasters during this move, for which I'm deeply grateful, but there have been about a hundred million  glitches: at least it seems that way.  Almost nothing has gone the way I thought it would, or expected it to.  And nothing has been as easy or uncomplicated as I would have liked.  (Why is that not a surprise?)  Here are just a few examples: I was supposed to pick up the moving truck a block down the street from my house but it was 15 miles away instead; I ordered two dozen furniture pads and they weren't in the truck when I got the truck to my house.  The painter I hired to paint my condo, and who had come highly recommended, missed quite a few spots and I had to ask him to come back and finish up.  (Monday I realized there were still more spots that needed attention, so yesterday I bought a paint brush and touched them up myself!)  The large wasp nest that was in the electrical circuit box when I bought the house had been removed, as I had asked, but the wasps must have decided they liked the energy around my front door and built two new nests right in the corner above the door! (A can of Raid and a long stick later, those are both gone too!) I ordered a washer and dryer and a mattress and box springs from Sears for my new home.  When the delivery men arrived, I got a mattress but no box spring (it hadn't come in yet!) and the washer fit in the laundry space, but the dryer didn't, so it had to go back.  The box spring never did come in, so I had to return the mattress and buy both somewhere else.  The new dryer, which just got delivered last Thursday, only fit in the laundry space if it was in there at an angle, because the vent in the back kept it from sitting close enough to the wall to allow the bi-fold doors to close without rubbing against the front of the machine.  The tenant for my house in Pittsburgh never transferred the utilities into his name.  I had to wait six hours at the DMV to get a Tennessee driver's license.  When I turned off the air conditioner last Tuesday when the temps finally got cool enough, thinking I'd open the windows and enjoy the fresh air, the condensation leaked out of the unit and found its way to the exhaust vent in my bathroom ceiling, where it leaked through and left a puddle on the floor.  I called the warranty company on Wednesday to get it repaired and by this Monday, I still hadn't heard from the repairman they said they had referred me to.  (I've turned the AC back on, and it seems as long as it's running, there is no leak, so I'm letting it be for now, but I'm in the process of cancelling the home warranty and just finding a repairman on my own.) The list goes on....and on.....and on.  

Like I said, nothing major.  But over time, all those glitches began to add up and I began to wear down.  Was this move really worth it?   I have to admit the question did cross my mind.   

On Monday night I offered to babysit for Hayden so Jason and Erin could have an adult night out, and so I could have some good grandma time with  Hayden.  As I was getting dinner ready in the kitchen, I was facing the stove and Hayden was behind me, playing.  All of a sudden I felt these two little arms wrap around my legs with all their strength and for several seconds I just stood there, wrapped in that little girl's love.  As I looked down, she peeked around my legs, looked up at me and laughed, and squeezed even harder.  A moment later she released her grip and was off to something else. But in that moment, I had my answer: yes, even with all the glitches, this move was definitely worth it! 

 

 

 

I know there will be more glitches: there are always glitches.  But if I get to the point where they are beginning to wear me down again, I'm going to stop for a moment and feel myself wrapped in Hayden's little arms and remember why I'm here.  I know just the remembering will lift me up.   But if I need more, a bigger lift, I can always get in my car and take a drive, not ten hours down the road any more, but just ten minutes.  And instead of just remembering, I can actually experience. How wonderful is that?

 

God never gives us more than we can handle ( How often have you heard that?), and in my experience, He always finds a way to lift me up, to let me know that things are ok, that He's still there for me.   Whether it's an early warning that I'd have to drive further than just down the block to pick up the moving truck so I had a ride arranged (remember that angry angel?), or the rental truck guy just hopping in his truck lickety split to bring those furniture pads over when I called to tell him they were missing without giving me any attitude at all, or the extra discount Sears gave me on the new dryer because of the problems with the box spring, or those strong little arms unexpectedly wrapped around my legs when I wasn't looking, there are always signs of that Greater love that is wrapping us all up.  We just have to be open and recognize them! 

 

 





I used to see hawks

I've felt a connection to hawks for a very long time, at least for as long as I've been involved with Reiki, which has been thirteen years now. (Wow, really?  Has it been that long?  Just doesn't seem like it at all.)

I don't have any idea why hawks have been special for me, why I've felt this connection.  But I used to see them everywhere: on the lights along the highway; perched on top of telephone poles; on the top rails of fences as I drove along the interstates; and even way up in the branches of trees as I was driving along at speeds that should have precluded me from seeing anything but the road!  But I saw them!

When I needed confirmation about some bit of Guidance that I was receiving that I wasn't quite sure about, I'd often send up a silent request:  "Ok, God, I think I know what you're telling me to do next, but I'm just not sure.  Could you send me a hawk so I know for sure I'm on the right track?"  And sure enough, not long after the request was placed, a hawk would show up and I'd know I heard the Guidance correctly.

In 2005, a year after my mother began living in Pittsburgh in an assisted living facility because of health issues, I felt guided to take a couple of courses at a retreat center in North Carolina.  I was going to be gone a week, and it was the first time I was going out of town since my mother's illness, and I was having concerns about whether I was being Guided to take the classes or whether I had convinced myself that it was Guidance because I just wanted to get away from all the responsibilities that I had been shouldering since my mother first became ill.

The drive to North Carolina was one I'd done several times, and I always saw hawks along the way.  So as I was driving, I was talking to God and expressing my doubts about my decision.  Because this was such a big issue for me, I wanted something more from God than just the usual sighting of a hawk, and so I asked Him to give me a hawk feather as confirmation that this was indeed the right thing for me to be doing. 

From what I understand, unless you are Native American, it's illegal for you to own hawk feathers, and I acknowledged this to God as I spoke, but said that if I truly was doing the right thing, I really needed that feather and I was sure He could find a way to get me one.

Wouldn't you  know it?  I never saw a hawk for that entire eight hour drive!  I wondered if maybe I had over stepped by asking for that feather, and as the week and the first class progressed, I let my request slip to the back of my mind, feeling a tad guilty for even asking.

One of the participants in the first class, which was a class on crystals, was a young woman who was not staying for the second class, which was a drumming class (This class was my introduction to the drum!)  So the afternoon she was leaving, just before the drumming class was to begin, she walked up to me clutching something in her hand, and said haltingly, "I've been told I'm supposed to give you something and that you'll understand what it means.  I don't even really know why I only have one of these, as I packed them in such a way as to make sure I wouldn't lose them, but I've lost one and now I'm supposed to give you the other one."  As she finished speaking, she opened her hand and offered the contents to me.  Laying on her palm was an earring made of silver.  The top part of the earring was shaped as a small dream catcher, and hanging from the bottom was a single silver feather.

As I reached for the earring, I began to laugh, and then the laughter turned to tears.  "Do you know what it means?" she asked, as I continued to stare down at the earring now laying in my palm. 
"Yes," I said, "yes I do."  And I told her about my request for a hawk feather and that I believed this was God's way of answering that prayer.  

Once she left, and with the earring safely in my pocket, I sat down in my chair as we prepared to begin the drumming class.   The retreat center was an old tobacco barn that had been renovated, and my chair was facing a wall that was almost a solid pane of glass for the bottom six feet.  Above the window, the remainder of the wall was made up of several feet of wood paneling, and set into that paneling, was a round window about three feet in diameter.  As the instructor asked us to close our eyes in preparation for his opening prayer, I happened to glance upward at that window, and what I saw there confirmed for me that God had indeed done his best to give me the hawk feather I asked for in the form of that small silver feather.  In the center of that window were three hawks flying in a circle...the only hawks I saw during my entire trip!

I could tell you that's the end of the story.   At the time, I was absolutely positive that God had answered my prayer in the only way that He could at the time, and I was completely satisfied with the way that He did so.  It never occurred to me that it was only a temporary solution.

Several weeks later, a friend, Jon, was driving me to my mom's home in his van because I needed to get more of her things, and my car wasn't large enough to do the job.  As we pulled up to a red light and waited for the light to change, I glanced ahead and to my left, at a large empty space in the cemetery across from the intersection where we were waiting.   There, in the middle of the lawn, was a large hawk, seemingly staring right at our van. 

I'd never seen a hawk at ground level before.  They were usually perched up high somewhere, so I was convinced there must be something wrong with this particular hawk.  I didn't think about what I was going to do if there was something wrong, I just told Jon to pull the van into the cemetery so I could get a closer look.   As we moved through the intersection, the hawk's head turned as if following the path of the van, and continued to do so as we parked about 15 feet from where it was sitting.  With the hawk still looking my way, I got out of the van and gently closed the door ( I didn't want to disturb the hawk.)  Behind me, I heard Jon say, "Be careful, you could get hurt."  But I didn't feel like I was in any danger.  

I slowly approached the hawk, and when I was about ten feet away, it suddenly took flight, heading toward a  large pine tree just a few feet away.  As it landed on a branch, it turned, as if to watch me.  I began walking toward the tree, looking up at the hawk, and as I did so, I heard a voice in my head say "Look down. Look down. "  It was such an insistent command I couldn't help but take my eyes from the hawk and look down at the ground.  At first I wasn't sure what I was seeing, but as I focused my attention I realized there was a feather right in front of me.  I bent to pick it up, and then saw another and another.  All told I picked up seven hawk feathers that morning. Seven!  I had only asked for one, and now I had seven!

I still have those feathers, although I only have six now, as I felt Guided to give one of them to another Reiki master a few years later, but each time I look at them I think of the way God answered my prayer when I needed confirmation that I was doing the right thing, and each time I see a hawk, it's a reminder to me that when I need confirmation, God will provide it.

So I've been feeling a bit bereft since I've been here in Nashville, because I haven't seen a single hawk.  I did see a couple on the drive down, but nothing since I've arrived.  However, what I have been seeing is vultures...everywhere!  And although I'd checked my Pocket Guide to Spirit Animals when I saw the first one sitting on a light post over the highway in front of me, I couldn't find a listing for vultures.  But they kept appearing, so I knew there had to be a message for me. 

Today, after seeing three of them perched on each of three light poles, one after the other as I approached the turnoff to my condo, I decided it was time to find out what the message was.  I called my friend, Cathy, and asked her to check her books and see what she could find.  She told me that when a vulture totem shows up it means that foods that I used to like and enjoy might not be enjoyable anymore and that my body would let me know they weren't right for me any longer.  She continued with "Foods will have a noticeable effect on your digestive system, and the suffering you are currently experiencing is necessary for what's to come but will soon be coming to an end."

The message was right on target!  My digestive system has been in an uproar the last couple of weeks, and just this morning I ate something I usually enjoy ( a pecan waffle!), and later, when my stomach was upset, thought to myself, "I'm not doing that again."
Let's hope I remember the lesson so I don't have to revisit the reminder!

I'm hoping that vultures haven't replaced hawks as a special connection for me: I really do like my hawks.  I'm keeping my fingers crossed that Spirit is just using the vultures to send this particular message and the hawks will be there again, when and if I need them.  But I'm sure God and my angels know better than I do what I really need.  The other interesting thing Cathy told me about vultures is that they signify  "death and rebirth and a new vision."  How much more perfect a messenger could they be, considering all that I've left behind to open this new door, and knowing that what's on the other side will most likely be something different from what I've left behind?

I've been asking for confirmation that I made the right decision in making this move to Nashville.  Once again, God has answered my prayers.  He just couldn't do it using the hawks this time.

    

Thoughts in the cab of a truck

Two weeks ago yesterday I climbed into the cab of a fourteen foot U-Haul, and as I clumsily positioned myself behind the wheel, the young man assisting me said, "If you're not scared now, you'll be just fine."  I wondered what made him make the comment, but I was too busy inspecting the dashboard and getting the lay of the land to voice the question, which was probably a good thing, since I don't think he needed to know just how uncertain I was about my ability to drive this seemingly huge truck some five hundred plus miles to Nashville on my own.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, the rain, which had been a drizzle, began to come down with much greater intensity.  My friend, Cathy, had given me a ride to pick up the truck ( We had to go all the way to Sharpsburg!) and she promised to follow behind me to make sure I didn't have any problems on the way back to my house.

The cab seemed huge compared to the inside of my little Mazda, and I kept looking at the big side mirrors, afraid they were going to hit something I passed because they seemed to extend out so far from the truck itself.  As I pulled out onto Rt. 28, I said out loud to God and my angels, "Ok, guys, you better help me with this!"

Rt. 28 was, as usual, under construction, and at one point I was in a narrow single lane with the rain pounding down and water splashing up around me, and I was reminded of the log ride at Kennywood where you're going down a narrow shoot and water is spraying up on both sides, and there's nothing you can do to go a different way or get out of it if you needed to.  

As I drove, I found myself looking in the mirror to see if I could see Cathy behind me, just to reassure myself that if I got into trouble there was help available.  Sometimes I could see her and sometimes I couldn't, but she promised she'd be there so I just trusted and kept driving.  I thought to myself that if I could make it through that construction zone - this huge truck with this novice driver at the wheel - that I should be able to navigate the interstates between Pittsburgh and Nashville with little problem. 

A short, uneventful while later, I pulled the truck up on the sidewalk in front of my house, put it in park, jammed on the emergency brake, turned off the ignition and carefully climbed out.  My initial journey was successful and it gave me hope for the longer journey yet to come.

I hired movers to pack the truck, and once they finished, Cathy followed me to her office, where I parked the truck for the night.  I planned an early start in the morning, figuring that what usually took me nine and a half hours in my car would more than likely take me eleven or twelve in the truck.  After taking my car out to the airport ( I flew back to Pittsburgh the following Wednesday to pick up my car and drive it to Nashville.), I spent the night at Cathy's, sleeping sporadically, my mind filled with thoughts of the drive.

I pulled out of the parking lot about 7 am, waving goodbye to Cathy and trying to get comfortable behind the wheel.  For about the first 90 minutes or so, I was nervous.  The steering wheel was bigger than my car's, the cab was huge and the passenger side was packed as full as I could pack it and still see the mirrors, and the mirrors were screwed in place and I couldn't change their position, so the view I was seeing in them was different from what I was used to, and what I wanted, which made me more uncomfortable.  I kept wanting to judge the position of the truck on the road by the side mirrors, rather than through the windshield, still concerned each time someone passed me that those big extended mirrors were going to hit whatever was passing by.   The problem was that by focusing on the mirrors instead of what was in front of me, I kept swerving from side to side thinking I needed to do so to avoid hitting something, and because I was concentrating on that,  my speed was erratic.  At one point I looked at the speedometer and I was only going forty, and another time I was doing almost 70! (Sitting up high like that you don't realize sometimes just how fast you're going.  I missed my cruise control!)  But finally I got the hang of things, settled down, and began to enjoy the drive.

It's amazing how much more I could see sitting in the cab of that truck than was visible to me doing that same drive in my little Mazda!  The  herons that I saw when I did that drive several weeks before had seemed such a miracle to me, mainly because herons are usually spotted around water, and from what I could see, there was no water! Hah! What a difference when I was seeing things from a greater perspective!  There were bodies of water everywhere: lakes, ponds, rivers.  I just hadn't been able to see them because I was sitting too low.

Previously when I'd driven south, I could see miles and miles of cornfields, but during that drive I could even see the farmhouses at the edges of those fields. I'd never seen those before; never even been aware they were there!  From up high I could see several different layers of vegetation along the edge of the highway where previously I'd seen only what was at the very edge!  I could look down into the cars going past and see the bodies of the people inside, instead of just their heads and shoulders.  And even though I wasn't nearly as high as the eighteen wheelers, I was high enough to see the faces of the drivers instead of just their hands on the steering wheels, which was all I could see from the driver's seat in my car.  I was surprised at how many women where driving those big trucks!  The things you see when you're looking from a higher perspective!  Who knew?

I couldn't help thinking as I was driving (when I got more relaxed and wasn't so intensely focused on every little motion of the truck) that my driving experience was a lot like our spiritual journeys and our relationships with the Divine.  As we begin to engage with Spirit, we are often nervous, uncertain, uncomfortable in the bigger realm that the Divine represents.  It's hard to relax and let go.  We are caught up in wanting to be in control, in watching each and every little move, afraid that a single misstep will take us off course or cause us to crash.  We often miss the bigger picture because we're focused on the details. But as we come to know Spirit, to experience a higher vibration and become more accustomed to it, we are able to relax a bit and look at things from a different, broader perspective, and from that perspective, we see things we've never seen before, perhaps things we never knew existed.  Our eyes are opened in a new way, and the new revelations that we're privy to, often amaze us, and sometimes befuddle us.  And the higher we go, just like those drivers of the eighteen wheelers who were sitting higher than me and could see even more than I could see, the more those higher vibrations allow us to 'see', the more they allow us to know, and our lives are never the same. 

Just like I realized when I drove that same drive later that week, this time once again in my car, that even though I could no longer see the rivers and lakes and ponds, even though it appeared there were no farm houses on the edges of the fields, and I could see only one layer of vegetation at the side of the road, even though I couldn't see down into the cars or see the faces of the drivers of the big rigs, because I'd had the experience before, because I knew what was out there, that drive in my little car would never be the same again! 

I was always going to have a greater perception, a deeper knowing.  I couldn't not have.  Of course there will be times when I make that drive that I won't think about the things I cannot see, but now that the knowingness is within me, there is no way that I can lose it completely.  And that's just how it is with our relationships with Spirit as we travel our paths.  Once we've experienced those higher vibrations, once we've experienced Spirit at work in our lives, we will always have the awareness of that experience, that connection, somewhere down deep inside of us, even when our egos cause our vibrations to lower and we begin to question or doubt, or worry.  Even then, somewhere within us, we know there is more, and our journeys, and our relationship with God, will forever be changed because of that knowing.