I receive “help” in my life on a daily basis. Most of it occurs without my noticing it. Sometimes it repeats itself on such a regular basis that I become aware. I often receive “help” when I’m writing. It began when I was writing To Pap, With Love. I DID NOT HAVE WRITING EXPERIENCE. I’m not a great typist — as a matter of fact, I almost FLUNKED typing in high school. “what do you mean I can’t look at the keys?”
Thankfully we now have computers, that help with spelling errors. Computers were not in regular use when my father was alive. It didn’t take him long on the other side to learn how to manipulate the system. I don’t know how else to describe it. The day of my father’s wake, at work, my sons computers made such a mess he gave up and came home. Our future son-in-law, hoping to work on a school project, also gave up when the computers locked.
When I wrote my first book, sentences disappeared as they were eaten by the yellow figure on a packman game. The printer jammed. One chapter stopped printing whenever it reached our granddaughters communion party. That “help” occurred often when I was writing that book. It continued when I wrote the various stories in Journey With Me.
Today I still receive “help” on a regular basis. For some reason it is IMPORTANT that I share thought rambles on a regular basis. Today I have brain fog. NO ideas were coming to mind. Thankfully I’m receiving “help”. Files are saved and the computer leaves the place where I’m working. I’m being reminded of long ago. My father passed over in 1995.
Evidently I NEED a lot of “help” because I’m ALWAYS on the receiving end. Some of the help is not exactly what I want. I don’t like to get hit on the head. Nor do I like the frozen cascade of food from the freezer. Thankfully the food has not been landing on my feet lately. Last year I always had compression stocking on my legs. This year I have enjoyed the freedom of going barefoot so most of the time my toes are not protected.
If my thought ramble is not of the quality that is accepted, it won’t save. Or as in time gone by, the sentences unravel. I’m mentioning this because so many persons think the because time has passed, their friends on the other side don’t think of them — I wish to share that years gone by on the other side don’t seem to make a difference.
Wandering With Spirit 
Leave a comment