Do your loved ones visit you after they’ve died?

None of you will question that as we live our lives – go to work, parties, travel, have relationships, etc., –  experiences combine and create how we view the world and ourselves. And grieving the death of loved ones is an experience we all share.

First, let me say that I do not call myself a “religious” sort. I consider myself more as spiritual and intuitive and I never considered the possibility that a deceased love one would contact me. Until it happened.

In the 1980’s, when I thought going through infertility would drive me over a cliff, I had an early morning phone call from my grandfather who had died in the 60’s. “Grandpa,” I said. “Why are you calling? You’re dead.”

“I’m calling to check on you.”

“I’m fine,” I lied.

My husband woke me to get up for work. I was furious and sad that my call had been abruptly ended. The “dream,” was not like a real dream made of scene or stories.  I only saw Grandpa’s face, and I felt him as real as the pillow my head rested upon.

Not long after, my deceased grandmother “called.” I said the same thing. “Grandma, you’re dead. Why are you calling?”

“I’m calling to check on you. How are you.”

“I’m fine.”

Then she asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yes. Will you ask God to give me a baby?”

There was a long pause as if she were thinking. Then, she said, “I have to go now.”

(Today, I have two grown children, two grandchildren and another due in May.Who knows, right?)

Mom’s first contact with me was different. I had just left the cemetery when a song I’d never heard before came on NPR radio. To this day, I cannot find that song but its words were something like, “don’t worry, we’ll see each other in heaven.” The song made me smile.

Later, in a dream-vision, Mom had simply smiled at me, looked youthful and happy, and pain-free.

As my father lay dying, I asked, “will you check on me after you’re gone like Mom, Grandma and Grandpa did?”

He said, “I’ll always check on my babies.”

Wherever Dad is, he must be very busy since he has yet to “contact” me.  That’s okay, too. He’s probably teaching Mohammad Ali how to play checkers or dominoes.

Some people call these signs “Pennies from Heaven.”

Knowing my experiences, I recently ran across this article. Take a look. Perhaps it will apply to you as well. And please, let me know if it does.

http://www.ask-angels.com/spiritual-guidance/signs-from-heaven/

 

 

When Mother Nature thumps you into awareness

Yesterday morning, when I woke up, I couldn’t talk. This morning, when I woke up, I still couldn’t talk. I mean, NOT AT ALL. Laryngitis is an interesting condition. Perhaps it is nature’s way of telling you to listen, to be still, to be contemplative.

I counted my blessings.

But damnit, I wanted to add to the lunch conversation! I had things to contribute, information to share!

“Ha Ha,” the Universe laughed.

“Holler if you need anything,” a friend laughed.

“Now she can’t yell at me,” my husband said, laughing in the phone with my doctor.

My mini Aussie cocked his head at my silence, but could still read my body language as I could still read his. “Ball time! Ball time! Ball time!”

I counted my blessings.

This evening, I count my blessings. Not because I can now croak out a couple of words in a lengthy sentence.

I count my blessings because they are there. Silence did not destroy even one.

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Be still and silent when you can.

Otherwise, Mother Nature will make you.

She’s clever like that.

-Carolyn

What would Mr. Rogers say now?

Yes, that’s me in the photo with Mr. Rogers. In the 1990’s, before I retired as an Early Childhood Specialist, I took my mom with me to the National Association for the Education of Young Children (NAEYC) conference in Anaheim, CA where Mr. Rogers was to be the keynote speaker. On the day before the evening speech, Mom and I were walking around the big almost-empty auditorium when I heard Mr. Roger’s voice somewhere behind me.

I followed that soft, kind voice and found him with David, his PR manager, both checking out the venue before the speech. I introduced myself, told him what I did for a living and how much I loved him.

My mom, who was never the meek sort, chimed in and said, “And I’m just a grandma.”

Whoa! She never expected his response. He told her that being a grandmother is one of the most important jobs in the world- how they are a major contribution to a child’s well-being – how there is a special kind of love between a child and a grandparent.

After the goosebumps settled, I said, “I wish I would have remembered to bring a camera. I would have loved to have our picture taken together.”

Mr. Rogers said, “That’s okay. David, can we use yours?”

His PR person first took a photo of Mr. Rogers and me, then Mr. Rogers insisted my mom be in the next one.

True to his word, the 5/7’s were sent to me a week later.

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Mr. Rogers was a man of honor, dignity, truth, kindness, and much, much more.

But I wonder what he would be thinking now if he knew Paul Ryan has proposed budget  cut including $445 million in Public Broadcasting Subsidies. Actually, I know what he would say. He did it before. When President Nixon threatened the same cut in 1968, Mr. Rogers, in his kind, eloquent way, spoke before the Senate Subcommittee. 

You can see his testimony here. And it’s well worth the watch.

Long live the spirit of Mr. Fred Rogers!

Why must I?

always write outside? Even when I travel, I search for a place out in the elements where I can plant my tush, open my laptop and write.

Perhaps walls close in my thoughts.

Or the heater or AC turning on sounds too artificial.

Or I don’t like the fake lighting.

Maybe it’s because I got used to writing (or painting) outside when I was a smoker. But that was long ago.

Maybe it’s because, outside,  I can sit at a table and throw the ball for my mini-Aussie using a right-handed muscle memory with no thought but for the words I write.  So he and I, kill two stones with one bird (yes I meant it that way) – and it makes us both happy as he returns for another 50 throws.

I have one of those propane heaters, kinda like restaurants do. So if it’s above 40 degrees, I’m still good to go.

Because I live in Texas, the temp works with me. Right now, I think it’s around 68.

I like the soft wind, the openness, the expanse and, at least the hope of, the unbound creativity where no walls surround me and world shows up and says,

“Howdy do! Break Into – your creative zone”

Any maybe, it’s also because I get to see this:

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Why am I sad?

Because I fed her and the rest of her eager mates in water world every morning?

Because I was excited when Alex the Fish Man said yesterday she was bloated and may be ready to have babies?

Alex the Fish Man is on speed dial. I told him she was laying on her side, panting as she stared at me. He said she could have been bloated because of a something-something disease. The companions continued to swim by her, nudging her. “Get up. Get up!,” they said.

I turned up the oxygen level as told. Her panting slowed but she did not get up.

The others stared at me like saying, “aren’t you going to do anything?”

A brief visit to my computer, I went back to check. No movement. Nothing. Gone.

All I could do was say, “I’m sorry.” And to the others, I said the same.

Life.

As I often say, during the good or the bad, “There goes that Universe again.”

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She was still alive in this photo. Posting her dead would have been callous.

 

Why Can’t I for Once …

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I see faces in everything.

In the grains of a wooden table

In the markings on stone wall

In tiles on my bathroom floor

I even see a face in the shadows of a crumpled towel strewn on the floor.

I take a picture of cabinet doors and see a face.

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Okay, I forced these:

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But here’s the real question.

Why can’t I, for once, see a kangaroo smoking a cigar

or a flower growing out of a lima bean

or a mouse eating a shrimp?

I guess I’m not that creative.

(But, at least I don’t see dead people!)

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🙂 🙂 🙂