By Debra Basham, on June 8, 2014
“Let me take some time each day to look within the self and experience the beauty of my inner qualities,” is the thought for the day that accompanied this photo:
This photo and the words were such a timely message, as I had just spent yesterday in a silent meditation retreat with a small group of others. In some unspoken (yet understood) way, each of us—including our retreat facilitator—was there to do just that: Make friends with yourself.
Even before I left the house, the content for my process was showing up. A friend who was supposed to attend sent an email message: “Too little sleep. Too much driving. Not coming today, have a blessed day.”
Then, as I was shutting down my phone, ready to give my attention to the inner world, a text from my sister saying she would not be coming to the Holistic Alliance reunion the following day. Her stated reason, “Looks like most of the people I would like to see are not going.”
The fertile soil of my soul searching had been planted, and my unshed tears watered the ground. Stinking thinking was the manure of rapid growth. The warmth of love in the room gave energy to the hell-of-my-own-making as I translated my sister’s message to “nobody I am interested in seeing.”
Monkey mind was off and running wildy.Would I give it the keys to my heart?
In the sacred (and safe) container of the days meditation, I had the gift of choice to hold my inner being with compassion rather than to play the role of abuser and neglector my ego had already assigned to my friend and to my beloved sister. I had the opportunity to feel my own disappointment at not having the blessing of sharing time and experience with those I loved.
The door was open to self freedom, and it also offered grace to the others in my life.
Thank you, Lisa Zucker, for being such a wonderful teacher/learner. It is a humbling role we each play each and every day….
By Debra Basham, on May 30, 2014
This past week I had the honor of creating a photo board for our grandson, Adam, celebrating his graduation from high school. It had been a long day, and it was already late and I was tired, but soon I was energized walking down memory lane.
Awareness of every event as divine order was obvious as I saw with my own eyes infant growing into toddler, child developing into teen, and emerging as grown man. Photo after photo of Adam in the kitchen left me wondering just how much our destiny is revealing itself even at the tender age of two or four or ten.
When his older brother, Brad, saw the board, he smiled a huge smile and said, “You packed it in!” That is true, and it was the perfect way to honor Adam.
Adam really began to find his place in the world when he started racing go-karts. His nickname was plowboy because he would run off the track. Imagine a kid who cannot even drive yet navigating around hair pin turns at 75 to 100 miles per hour. He was a great team member, helping the guys and benefiting from their experience. He won a championship! He flipped over and over going about 95 MPH on the Daytona track. He experienced the bitter and the sweet and learned from it all.
During his senior year, in addition to working part time at Publix while taking the culinary program at school, he has already been working as a volunteer fireman. He is a remarkable young man, that is for sure!
It was an incredibly busy week. Through it all, my heart kept thinking about how Adam’s photo board is a symbol for all of us.
We have moments we are exceedingly proud of. Some we are embarrassed by. Some we have long forgotten. Many of our moments of years gone by seem like just yesterday.
For each of us, our moments will come to an end. That has happened for Maya Angelou.
Here is one of her amazing poems that, in my heart, honors both of them.
We, this people, on a small and lonely planet
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns
To a destination where all signs tell us
It is possible and imperative that we learn
A brave and startling truth
And when we come to it
To the day of peacemaking
When we release our fingers
From fists of hostility
And allow the pure air to cool our palms
When we come to it
When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate
And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean
When battlefields and coliseum
No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters
Up with the bruised and bloody grass
To lie in identical plots in foreign soil
When the rapacious storming of the churches
The screaming racket in the temples have ceased
When the pennants are waving gaily
When the banners of the world tremble
Stoutly in the good, clean breeze
When we come to it
When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders
And children dress their dolls in flags of truce
When land mines of death have been removed
And the aged can walk into evenings of peace
When religious ritual is not perfumed
By the incense of burning flesh
And childhood dreams are not kicked awake
By nightmares of abuse
When we come to it
Then we will confess that not the Pyramids
With their stones set in mysterious perfection
Nor the Gardens of Babylon
Hanging as eternal beauty
In our collective memory
Not the Grand Canyon
Kindled into delicious color
By Western sunsets
Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe
Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji
Stretching to the Rising Sun
Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor,
Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores
These are not the only wonders of the world
When we come to it
We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe
Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger
Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace
We, this people on this mote of matter
In whose mouths abide cankerous words
Which challenge our very existence
Yet out of those same mouths
Come songs of such exquisite sweetness
That the heart falters in its labor
And the body is quieted into awe
We, this people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness
That the haughty neck is happy to bow
And the proud back is glad to bend
Out of such chaos, of such contradiction
We learn that we are neither devils nor divines
When we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
Without crippling fear
When we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
That is when, and only when
We come to it.
Adam, savor your past, enjoy your present, and trust your future.
You are the possible.
You are the miraculous.
You are the true wonder of this world.
Congratulations!
By Debra Basham, on May 19, 2014
This has been a tender spring with young ones in nature. One of the 2014 eaglets on Pine Island few for the first time on March 12, and—just 9 days later—was electrocuted flying into some wires.
Did you know, once paired, bald eagles (the only eagle unique to North America), stay with their mate for life. Only if one bird dies, will the other select another mate.
During mating season, diligently selecting then carefully transporting sticks—some of which are up to a couple of feet long—both the male and female work to build the nest. The nest can span 8 feet and weigh as much as a ton!
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| A photo snip (photographer) of the surviving eagle on this year’s nest…. |
Stories of eagles swooping down and snatching a fish right out of the hands of a fisherman are not just legend on Pine Island, they are fact. They really love the slender lady fish…
One day, a dear friend who regularly visits the nest, was frightened for the surviving chick as an osprey was threatening an attack. Whooosh! Fortunately, the eagle parent had been hiding out of sight and was right there to intervene, giving a violent chasing to the would-be-intruder.
Today, my daughter shared that she found eggs from a nest on her porch overhang on the ground. She says she felt “sad” as she saw bitty birdie bodies in the now-cracked eggs. She knows first-hand how dedicated this momma bird was because she had tried (unsuccessfully) to encourage her to build elsewhere.
All of these birdie tales keep tugging at our “momma” heart strings. This is true for men as well as women. We know creatures in nature grieve. Newspapers and websites share reports of one species adopting a baby of another species to fill the void as big as the state of Texas where a mother’s love would be.
Are you wondering what it is that keeps our winged sisters and brothers building those nests? Join me as I reflect on divine love as a choice-less-ness, hard-wired into our being.
My good friend Wayne used to have a handyman service. (See previous post.) Everyone loves Wayne, and he could fix just about anything. Some memory challenges leave him finding new ways of being in the world. On his walk, he now carries a pointed stick and picks up loose paper along the way. Wayne has begun sending encouraging cards to people he cares about. A mutual friend suggested he adopt James Taylor’s “Handy Man” as his new motto: “Here is the main thing I want to say, I’m busy twenty four hours a day. I fix broken hearts, I’m your handy man.”
Wayne, and mother eagles, and you and I. We all instinctively want to make a contribution to our world. Some build nests. Some pick up trash. Some smile at strangers. Some see clients. Some build websites. Some sing in the choir. What gifts we all have to share!
By Debra Basham, on May 5, 2014
The phone rang. I heard the voice of Claudia, a good friend. “I am at the ER with Wayne. He cut his wrist badly with the table saw. He is probably going to need surgery.”
“I will send out a request for prayer support to the list right now. Keep me posted.”
Wayne—her husband—is also a good friend. Although I had laundry in, food on the stove, and was still in sweats, I soon felt the draw to go offer what support I could. I turned down the stove, quickly slipped into street clothes, brushed my teeth, washed my face, and headed out the door.
A brief call on my way found them still in ER, but waiting transport to Kalamazoo. Claudia rode in the ambulance with Wayne, and I drove her car.
Your sense of giving support is intimately linked with support you have previously received. In 2011, when I found myself on a wild ride to surgery and then an even wilder ride to cardiac intensive care (post surgical complication), I was on the receiving end. Claudia sat with me in the hospital restroom, willing my intestines to wake up. She spent the night with me. She shared her skills of reflexology and aromatherapy.
Neither Wayne nor Claudia are strangers to pain. A couple of years ago he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease.
Wayne still faces surgery, but that night he was released from ER—dressed in paper scrubs and nonskid socks. I drove them home, and it was my turn to stay the night. We had not anticipated the experiences we would share that day, but hidden blessings are tucked into the actions of giving and receiving love and support.
The shop where Wayne’s injury occurred needed to be cleaned up. The estimate (all blood has to be treated as a biohazard) was $600. Wayne’s long-time close friend, Bob, and I decided to give it a try. Bob went to buy supplies while I organized the necessary tools.
On hands and knees, the work was an act of prayer.
We spoke of our gratitude Wayne is alive.
Sharing times of personal pain in our pasts, acknowledging the miracle of friends who are able toreally be there for one another.
Pouring the peroxide out of the bottles became sacred ritual. Wiping up the blood of our dear friend took on profound meaning for both of us.
“I have helped bring babies into the world, and held people as they were dying. I feel that same intimacy with you now. I am honored to perform this act of care and I cannot imagine having been able to do this with anyone else…”
Truth needs to be spoken. Life is too fragile to meet it with anything less than honesty.
When the last of the “biohazard” had been safely disposed of, I ceremoniously slipped out of my latex gloves to snap this selfie with Bob, just one of the many hidden blessings…
By Debra Basham, on April 26, 2014
A man without ambition is dead.
A man with ambition but no love is dead.
A man with ambition and love
for his blessings here on earth is ever so alive.
–Pearl Bailey
This day brings opportunity—just like every other day—to decide what I am going to focus on. I *think* I am pretty much an optimist. Even so, it is not easy to notice when I am giving my energy and attention in ways that is counterproductive.
I am blessed to receive a daily message from David Bloyd. I have never met David, but learned of his email messages through a writer friend/colleague from Florida. This morning, David’s opening is a quotation by Jarod Kintz, “One of my main regrets in life is giving considerable thought to inconsiderate people.”
David mentions Kintz had most likely made a play on a statement by Bernard Baruch about people: “Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.” David goes on to say we spend a lot of time concerning ourselves about those who cause us grief of one kind or another, when all that does is consume our time and energy.
Have you noticed the way hindsight often provides appreciation for things that are challenging in the moment? In the Vipassana practice, the encouragement is to abandon the unwholesome and cultivate the wholesome. Wednesday’s Wholesome Thought entitled “Both Ends” says we can end up giving our energy to the things we don’t want.
Later today I am honored to offer the following interfaith “prayer for our earth” at the Earth Day celebration:
Creator of Life—you who are nameless yet known by many names. You are the source of All That Is, present with us here now and for all time.
Great Spirit, we hear you singing through the pines.
Holy One, we see you when the full moon hides her face behind the clouds.
Earth Mother, your beauty delights us.
Pachamama, you provide for our every need.
Thankfully, you bless our good intentions, and forgive our ignorance of the holiness of the ground beneath our feet.
Heavenly Father, from a distance the world looks black and white, but things are not as they appear, for just as surely as each finger on a hand is related to nose and eye and fist and beating heart, we—like you—are related to all creation.
Allah. Buddha. Christ. Jehovah. Krishna. Yahweh.
Beloved. Infinite. Higher Power. Source.
We gather not to set ourselves apart from one another or from our planet, but to share the truth as spoken by Mother Teresa: “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.”
We gather not to worship either hollow images or sacred teachings.
We gather to celebrate each expression of divine love in the world.
Blessed be.
And so it is!
Aho.
Amen.
The song “count your blessings” is running through my head as my fingers play across the keyboard…If you are not familiar with it, or even if you are, you may enjoy having the melody in your heart now, too!
By Debra Basham, on April 18, 2014
Recently I enjoyed an evening with a young woman I have known for several years. She has blossomed into an incredible individual—filled with spark and excited to be a part of his planet earth.
As we were sharing I was reflecting on all the truly remarkable individuals I have been honored to connect with in person. The list includes Gary Zukav, Dr. Bernie Siegel, Deepak Chopra, Esther Hicks, Eric Pearl, and John of God. I have studied extensively with Dr. Richard Bandler, and was mentored in Healing Touch™ by Janet Mentgen. I share this not to impress you, but to acknowledge the awe life holds.
When I was with Pine Island Writers on “author’s row” in Fort Myers, Florida at the Southwest Florida Reading Festival in March (2014), where I got to hear Sue Monk Kidd speak. Authors can seem bigger than life, but what impressed me about her is how down-to-earth she is. Some of the most memorable notes from her talk include:
“The job of a novelist is to take a bad situation and make it worse.”
“The story starts in the ‘ordinary world’ then comes the call to adventure.”
“Well-behaved women never make history.”
Also while in Florida, I enjoyed riding bikes in the sun. I rode underneath eagle nests and along the canals. I met some truly wonderful authors. Plenty of time was spent playing dominoes, taking boat trips, and sharing meals with friends. Chance meetings with like-minded others dotted the landscape.You could say I spent my time in immersed in nature…. If you would like to see a short video of seven manatee in the canal, send email because I am glad to share.
After a rather leisured winter, the past few weeks have been very busy. Before leaving Florida, I was organizing, packing, and loading. We were intentional about making our trip home a journey: beginning with a day of bike riding along the rim of Lake Okeechobee before going on to visit our friend Linda Allen, in her lovely condo in our beloved Port Saint Lucie. We enjoyed brunch with my nephew, Scott, and his delightful friend, Heidi. Dinner at our favorite Thai restaurant was as delicious as we remembered.
Landing in middle Tennessee Monday, April 7, I had the joy of sharing time with some of the remarkable healers I get to call friends. An entire week of savoring moments with our daughter and her family included yummy meals, fun evenings, and delightful days.
On the drive to Michigan, we squeezed in lunch with friends in Indy on Monday, April 14—just in time to get our income tax return into the mail on Tuesday!
Since mid-December, hours have folded into days, days into weeks, and weeks into months: each moment leaving it’s indelible mark on my heart space. That process continues…
As I settle back into my Michigan routine, the joy of reconnecting here rings deeply in my soul. A hug from my sister, Janis; meditation with the St. Joe Sangha; Thursday morning book club at Full City Cafe; getting back to work at Borgess Health & Fitness Center; and being welcomed back to Parkview Hills by Joel and Bobbie and McGee (Joel is my faithful business partner of 15 years, and Bobbie and McGee are his two cats that I have loved since they were frightened little kitties).
Amidst all of this outer activity, my inner journey has been tender and at times raw. Be it ever so humble, there is no place like home! Follow the yellow brick road….
By Debra Basham, on March 25, 2014
Most people are aware of the formula for setting goals that suggests goals should be Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Realistic and Timely. Looking at the first letter of each word in the list, you get smart.
While listening to Dr. Wayne Dyer recently, I resonated with him saying you need to be fearless about your dreams and let success chase you. He went on to point out that everything isn’t just coming from the past. There is also pulling from the future.
As I begin to ponder some current business-related goals, I am aware these overlap into my soul. The issues I am grappling with are not compartmentalized; so I am taking to heart the suggestion that sharing your goals with a community of people who care about you strengthens your commitment and betters your odds for success. So here we go!
- Revamp scs-matters.com home page
- Put an appropriate “call to action” on every page of the website
- Get the rest of the audios moved to CD Baby
- Set up mail chimp and build a vital email communication system
These four can be done relatively quickly with the help of Joel (co-developer of SCS) and Rebecca (our webmaster).
- Redesign ImagineHealing.info
- Redesign SurgicalSupport.info
- Develop an enhanced e-book to deepen connection
- Create an app for easy access
These four will happen most effectively by a resource person with experience Joel and Rebecca and I do not have. So building a team of technology support persons is key.
Now I get into more significant goals—these are why the previous four are important:
- Teach healing with energy and language via technology
- Integrate this information into churches, hospitals, and universities
- Write and share widely Debra’s Tips for Well-Being and Wholesome Thoughts
- Inspire individuals to live empowered, healthy, happy lives of service to greater good
While all of these are important, they only hint at the dreams about making a huge difference in the world!
- Live a life of faith, hope, and love
- Encourage and activate sustainability
- Lavish wisdom in concrete and symbolic ways
- Build a legacy by committing my full attention on living my spirituality
Today I learned one of the bald eagle chicks I had been watching all winter flew into power lines and was electrocuted. The chick’s first flight was on March 12, and its last flight was on March 21. I am deeply saddened by this news, yet, I recognize part of the reality of life on this planet is impermanence. I will honor this chick’s contribution by letting my heart break open more and more. I will walk blindly into my own emotions and watch as they flow into the stream of all human emotions. I will remember that the river always flows to the sea….
By Debra Basham, on March 17, 2014
Most of those who grew up in the Western world, know about Chicken Little. The folktale reminds us how foolish we can be when we panic. Chicken Little begins calling out “The sky is falling, the sky is falling, it hit me on the head!” when an acorn falls on his head.
Convinced the world is at great risk, he journeys to tell the King. Along the way, he incites fear in others (interestingly, the others are mostly fowl) who also join in the wild goose chase. The not-so-happy ending has these foolish creatures being lured into his lair and eaten by Foxy Loxy. The happy ending version has the chick receive a warning, just in the nick of time.
As is the case with other fables, truth resonates from this story, and I saw it first hand when a friend was able to overcome fear and activate her innate healing ability.
We were riding bikes when we stopped to watch a remote-control power boat racing wildly. The wind was strong, and her bike was light. It toppled over so quickly it took all of us by surprise. Thinking the worst of the event was the mirror hanging downward on the end of her handlebar, the guys rode on. As she started to get back on her bike, however, she noticed a VERY large “goose egg” on her calf.
The hematoma was already dark, and growing darker by the moment.
“Let’s do energy work on it now,” I was off my bike and heading her way. We both started doing Healing Touch™ on her leg.
I was also wishing I had some Arnica Montana (an amazing homeopathic remedy with the nickname bruises), and some Rescue Remedy (Bach Flower essence for trauma relief). I carry both in my purse, but I only had my fanny pack.
“If I had my purse here, I would give you some remedies,” I started, “so let’s have you take them energetically.”
In a way it is just like using your imagination. You know how it is to imagine biting into a lemon wedge and your cheeks will react? Our bodies cannot tell the difference between reality and imagination. That is why your stomach will do a flip flop watching a video of a rollercoaster.
She imagined having the remedies as we finished up the Healing Touch™ work. When the guys came back to see what was taking us so long, the egg-sized knot was almost completely gone!
Looking at her leg and listening to her tell the guys, “There had been a knot as big as a large egg, but it has already gone down!” I remembered having worked with my grandson after a bike injury when he said the worst part about having me work with him was that his dad would never believe how badly he had been hurt!
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| This image (found online) says it best! |
We all got back on our bikes and finished the ride along a linear park with many turtles, fish, and water fowl. The wind was at our backs and the sun was warm on our faces, and we had an amazing time together out in nature.
Last evening I received a message from her saying that when she rubbed her hand over it, she could not feel any knot! Here is her self-report from this morning: “Leg is soooo much better today. Did spin class this a.m. and now am on the way to do some grocery shopping.”
I wrote back these three words, “Grateful, grateful, grateful…”
I am grateful I learned this stuff. I am grateful it works. I am grateful she was willing to remember that the sky is not falling.
My only regret is that we did not take pictures!
By Debra Basham, on February 28, 2014
Never born never died,
only visited this planet Earth
between 11 December 1931 and 19 January 1990.
~ On the tombstone of Osho, contemporary mystic
This morning I read a Huffington Post news story of an amazing 99 year-old man. Dobri Dobrev, a resident of Sofia, Bulgaria, is a saint in beggar’s clothing. Every day he takes to the streets to beg, but he gives all he collects—plus his monthly pension—to churches and orphanages. He once gave a single gift of $24,000! Dobrev says he once did a “bad thing” so he is trying to make up for it.
It has been a very intense inner week, and reading this story of Dobrev’s life of service just magnifies what is going on inside me. Some weeks are like that. Seeing the snow melt, learning of a loved-one’s death, tossing away some moldy bread. Everything in my world is reminding me of impermanence and the desire to make a difference in the world. So I ponder…
In the midst of my pondering, this email Thought for the Day from Aaron popped in:
To me, the most important thing that the Buddha taught was that we all have the capacity to awaken. This is our innate nature. We are all Buddhas ready to awaken. In awakening, we become free, liberated from this cycle of birth and death. In other words you are all of the nature to awaken, ready to open your eyes. Freedom is not something that will come to you somewhere in a thousand lifetimes. Freedom is right here and right now, in this lifetime, in this moment.
I wrote to Barbara Brodsky, who channels Aaron, asking her for additional insight. “This one made me wonder what it means to be released from the cycle of birth and death. As I anticipate my future, I have a sense of being eternal, but wonder if you can say more or point me toward something in the archives to satisfy my intellect’s desire to know more.”
Barbara’s simple reply was soothing on many levels: “What he means is that we are no longer pulled karmically into the cycle of rebirth. We can still choose to return, for service and with love.”
In 2011, as I was anticipating surgery to remove a “very aggressive growth” in my abdomen, fear of death was dancing in the back of my mind. Although I had not told many people about the experience I had participating in a workshop in 1999, I had seen my timeline end at 2012. The workshop facilitator wanted me to go in and extend my timeline, and was very upset when I chose not to do so, saying, “If it is my destiny, I will face it.”
So in those last few weeks of 2011, I was wondering if I was witnessing destiny. I did not feel ready to die, I did not want to leave this life, and I was very relieved on New Years Day to still be here!
For sure, we have all done something we might think of as having been “bad.” Maybe we will be blessed to live beyond 99 years like Dobrev, but since we do not know when we will leave this planet earth, in the meantime, I guess you and I have some service to be about….
By Debra Basham, on February 17, 2014
Dear God,
Thank you for the baby brother, but what I prayed for was a puppy.
–Children’s Letters to God
When I saw this quotation I knew a blog about gifts in unexpected places was asking to be shared!
On Sunday, John (my husband) and I were going to go off-island for a bike ride. Most days we are content to ride on on Pine Island, visiting Eagles’ nests, seeing Falcons, Vultures, Hawks, Osprey, Woodstorks, Egrets, Ibis, Pelicans, Herons, and various other of the nature available on any given day. But we needed groceries, so it was worth putting the bike rack on the van, loading the bikes, and driving the 14 miles. I had planned to ride Veterans Parkway, an urban trail we have previously enjoyed.
When we got the bikes unloaded and headed out, John wanted to go the other direction. I went along for the ride, so to speak, but as we stood by the side of a busy road waiting to cross, I felt the familiar twinges of annoyance. “Why do I agree to something I do not want to do?” I mused inside my head.
Once across the highway, I settled in a bit, grateful for a bike path and almost no traffic. The sun was shining, we had little wind, and the temperature was a very comfortable 75 degrees. My emotions are fickle, I admit that. A premenstrual teenaged girl has nothing on me in that department…
An easy rhythm developed into our making right turns. I love the metaphor of that! Down one side street, up the next, more and more right turns.
We spotted a garage sale and decided to stop. Not noticing a sign “EVERYTHING ON THIS TABLE $1, I picked up a couple of little things and asked the price. Thinking a dollar each was way too much money for the items I had picked up, I put them back but spontaneously heard myself say, “I will take this set of dishes.”
I could tell by looking it was not a complete set, having only five tea cups, but it was still a bargain at $5. While in Florida I could use more dishes that are microwave and dishwasher safe. Handing her the money, I said, “Just pack them up for me, and we will drive back and pick them up.”
A car pulled up and another shopper began browsing. I overheard the other woman grumble, “Damn, people. I wish they would leave us alone.” Actually, the sale was over and they were trying to pack up.
The woman had just started carefully wrapping each of the dished and putting them into a big box when we arrived. I had an intuitive while we had been there earlier, and now as I began to help her wrap and pack, I asked her if the dishes were part of an estate sale. “Yes, they belonged to my sister, Joanne.”
“I am sorry for your loss. How old was your sister?” I could feel her sadness.
She thought for a moment, then told me, “She was 70, and she died last April.”
“I will say a prayer for Joanne every time I use her dishes. I will say one for you, too…”
“What about me? Say a prayer for me, too!” called the other woman, the one who had grumped about people still coming to buy.
“One for Joanne, and one for each of you….” I smiled gently at Joanne’s sister.
Joanne’s sister had a wistful look on her face as she said, “I am glad the dishes are going to someone who will appreciate them. They meant a lot to my sister and that means a lot to me.” I could feel the significance of my current reading of John Edward’s One Last Time: A psychic medium speaks to those we have loved and lost.
As I loaded Joanne’s dishes in the van, I could feel the truth of our lives being moved along by an unseen benevolent force. It was as though my day had been orchestrated by a woman I had never met so that I could bring a gift of peace to a woman I will most likely never meet again.
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| Joanne’s Johnson Brothers Indian Tree China. |
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