Sunday at IANDS, there were some incredible stories shared, as always. One woman spoke of a Voice that gives her life guidance all the time. The Voice has saved her from some pretty disastrous stuff. She knows it’s the Voice and not her because it usually tells her stuff she doesn’t want to do. Another woman shares a story of being pulled from underwater in an incident where she would have drowned. She felt something pulling on her lifejacket. Another woman tells the story of her guardian angel placing his foot on her foot on the accelerator speeding her through an intersection where a semi came barreling through just moments later, saving her life.
I’m sitting here thinking about how my entire life I’ve asked for divine intervention. I used to lie in bed at night asking God to reveal himself to me. I hear about people with these voices and even seeing their guiding angels and I wonder why them and not me. I believe it happens. But, I raise the question. “Why do some of us (you) get these audible voices and even see or feel a guiding presence and for others of us, nothing?” Then, the advice comes from the others in the room.. Just pray. Sit quietly. Ask. Listen for that still small voice. OK. Guys. I have prayed my heart out. I meditate daily. I’m paying attention to my intuition. Then a couple of people who have gotten these voices and very direct guidance say they didn’t have any other guidance in their life. So, maybe they were getting what they needed. I think maybe they don’t listen to their inner guidance, so they need a bigger Voice. But, in any event, it’s a mystery and I’m willing to accept that. Then, someone says “Your angels can only help you if you ask. They can’t interfere with your free will.”. Whoa. Wait a minute. This sounds like bullshit to me. Why, if their function is to help me, to guide me, to make sure I’m on my best path, do I have to ask for their help? As Charlie Peacock said “You don’t ask a drowning man if he wants to be saved.” C’mon angels. Do your job! But, this keeps coming up. I’m told it’s better to ask aloud. OK. I’ll do it. So, as I’m taking the dogs out for the last time I look to the sky and say “All right guys. Guardian angels, divine beings, whatever or whoever else, I’m asking you right now for your help. And, I’m giving you permission to help me in whatever way possible.” Blanket authority. Anyone, anything, anytime. Have at it. Now, let’s see what you’ll do.
Last night I have a dream. The details aren’t relevant, but the dream is long and complex and I remember most of it. A mailbox is featured in the dream. In the dream, my mailbox has been knocked over and I pick it up and put it in the back of my truck (Yeah. Me driving a pickup truck). I go do what I need to do, taking the mailbox out of the truck as I do my thing and putting it back in my truck when I head back home.
So, today I’m taking my walk and listening to a podcast. The host tells how her father who passed 15 years gives her signs. At first it was little things like cardinals, butterflies, etc. But, as time has gone on, he’s gotten creative. She says that what he’ll do now is send people to her in random places and they’ll say “Oh, you’re Jen Weigel. I knew your father Tim.” OK. I can accept this as a sign. I’m not sure I would have considered it a sign before.
As I’m walking the route I walk every morning, I spot a woman coming down her driveway. It’s 8 o’clock in the morning. She’s wearing a dress and heels so I know she’s not going for a walk. She has passed the cars in the driveway. So, she’s not headed to her car. I’m thinking she must be going to the mailbox. But, she seems to be walking toward me, not towards her mailbox. I pull off my headphones when it’s obvious she’s going to speak. She says “I don’t think we’ve met face-to-face.” Uh… no lady.. I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you. “I’m Nicole… We’re friends on Facebook.” Now, she is looking vaguely familiar. OK…? She continues “My daughter went to school with your daughter, Shayna. I wanted to introduce myself.” We went on to have a little conversation. And, I’m back on my way.
Then it hits me. Here is the weird thing. I walk past their house pretty much every day. I actually see her husband a lot. During the school year I see him walking his little girl to school several times a week. I usually wave at him. I don’t recall ever seeing her other than on Facebook. I recognize her name, but I had no idea where she lives. And, she chooses today, the day I hear about this sign of Jen Weigel’s father sending people to introduce themselves to her, to come to the end of the driveway to introduce herself and mention Shayna. I would not have taken this as a sign had I not heard that particular podcast (recorded about 8 months ago) today.
I continue my walk thinking about the odds of this occurring. I look down the road. There is a mailbox that has been knocked down and is laying in the driveway of the person’s home. That’s when my mailbox dream comes back to me. I don’t recall ever dreaming about a mailbox before. The mailbox was knocked over last night. I know because mail is scattered across the driveway. I tuck this little coincidence away.
As I’m continuing to listen to the podcast, the interviewee mentions and incident with her daughter. Then, she references her daughter’s name. Her daughter’s name is Emma. Emma is Tywana’s grandmother’s name. And… Shayna said she wished we had named her Emma which always broke my heart. We spent a lot of effort coming up with the girls’ names and Shayna wanted to be called Emma. Strange that on this day when I’ve already had two synchonicities, the name Emma would come up.
The podcast finishes. Lately my pattern has been to listen to one podcast, walk for a few minutes in silence, then turn on music as I head home. But, today I decide to start a second podcast. I’m not sure why I did this. The interviewee is talking about how she is an intuitive and it started with her seeing her brother who was a twin who died in utero. My mind immediately goes to Tywana’s brothers. We call them twins, they are actually triplets. The third was still born. And then she says her brother’s name- William. The third baby, the one who was still born, his name is William (Jeffrey).
I turn off the podcast and walk in silence for a few minutes just thinking about the things that have happened in the last hour and hoping that as I continue to recognize the patterns and the signs and acknowledge them, they’ll step in more.
p.s.- I just got an interpretation of the dream.
Here is how I interpret that dream:
Mailboxes are a hub for a traditional form of communication… mail (obviously)
The way communication happens with Shayna and others who have passed on is NOT the traditional way we think of communication. We have to be open to, aware of and accepting of signs of communication, from them and with them, in various forms. And we have to “knock down” that the traditional way we think of communicating (like a mailbox) is the ONLY way.
