Random Acts of "Kindness"

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MESSAGES

I love music — all kinds — and plays — especially musicals. Monday morning I was alerted to a live performance in the Loop by Broadway in Chicago which was free. The main attraction was to be a puppet, the horse from War Horse.

Monday was a beautiful day. After too many days in the 90’s, temperature was forecast to be in the low 80’s. My husband and I took advantage of the cooler weather and toured Botanical gardens. The last time I was in the Garden was May — life and the hot summer intervened.  A family of swans traveled the lagoon. One parent in front, the other at the end, with three youngsters in the middle.

I’m sure it comes as no surprise when I mention that I talk to all animals, domestic and wild, including birds, butterflies and fish. I saw a single swan resting on a rock. Every few minutes, he needed to groom himself. I wanted a more dignified picture. I have to admit that I encouraged him to pose for a picture and he did.

Wandering on, I wanted to tour two more gardens. They both showed the effects of a hot summer. A woman shared that the garden looked much better that day, a month ago it was worse. A group of people with cameras caught my attention. I wondered what they were taking pictures of. I soon learned. A red tailed hawk rested on a branch of a tree, enjoying a snack. Did I talk to the hawk? Silly question, of course I did.

That evening, I journeyed downtown for the music. I was amazed at the realism of the horse puppet. Not only did it sound like a real horse, it moved like one. The music was good too.

That was going to be the end of this ramble. Until Friday. In the country, my husband and I wandered to a distant town for breakfast. We made it in time for the breakfast specials, biscuits and gravy for my husband. I don’t really like breakfast food. I chose a catfish fillet sandwich with clam chowder. I think I’ve mentioned that I’m sodium restricted. I knew that my choices were not the best, but thought the cooler temperature might let me fudge a bit. I only ate half of the clam chowder, then asked that it be removed.

My Floridian daughter phoned while I was waiting for my sandwich. When we were in Florida, she helped me watch my sodium intake. When I mentioned my food choice, she remarked that the breading had a lot of salt.  She was right. I had to remove at least half of the crunch. I mentioned her phone call to our waitress,
She said I must be on my daughter’s radar screen.

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TRAVELING WITH ANGELS

I have received “help” from the other side for years. But I was not aware of it. My mother and brother passed over when I was four. I’ll credit my mother as the primary force but I have no real information to back it up. I thought I lead a rather normal life until my father passed over and shared the secret. Looking back, I remember when I was in the country, driving on a lonely back road when my tire went flat. From nowhere, a young man pulled up in a truck and stopped to help. He had no trouble jacking up my car, and getting the tire off and the spare on. Luckily it had air. The young man wouldn’t take any money for his assistance and remarked he was a member of a race crew when I complimented him on his ability to change the tire so quickly.

Another night, driving out to our camper alone in the winter, the road turned to black ice and I lost control of the car, ending up in a ditch. Another man in a truck stopped to help, borrowed a chain from a nearby farm house and pulled me out.

I’m sure other things happened when I was traveling while my father was still alive. These two stick out in my memory. When my father’s memory deteriorated from Alzheimer’s disease, there where many instances when I received help and even became more or less aware of it. Learning sometimes comes slowly.

The past week I attended the wake of my son’s ex-mother-in-law. We live on the North side of Chicago. The wake was at 193rd street and Wolf Road. Far on the south side. I took the expressways to the funeral home but at 2:30, traffic was already a challenge. There was no way I wanted to take the expressways back home.

Since we live on the North side, I’m able to wander with some confidence on streets or expressways depending on the trip. I was lost on the South side. So I asked for help. Luckily there was a person who was knowledgeable and offered advice on an alternate. When I mentioned my planned route home, the husband of the deceased expressed concern for some of the neighborhoods I would be traveling through. “That’s alright,” I remarked. “I travel with angels.” And thankfully, I do. I was amazed at the words that had come out of my mouth. I just don’t always remember. Which is why I’m sharing with you.

At the funeral, I searched for the person and thanked him. It had been a pleasant drive, through the forest preserves, stress free,  — about 2 hours — but it wasn’t bumper to bumper traffic.

Short postscript: I shared this story with my middle daughter. She was concerned that I had received a warning and did not pay attention. In my defense I wish to mention that I’m not extremely brave, I don’t depend on my friends in high places to keep me from harm . I try to use common sense to the best of my abilities and am thankful for their assistance when challenges occur.

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TRANSLATION PLEASE

Just because I receive messages doesn’t mean that I understand their meaning. Case in point. Since I don’t have an intuition that speaks to me, I use many different tools to receive messages. One is a card deck titled THE ASCENDED MASTERS. Supposedly, they are all ascended beings of extreme talent that have passed over, that provide guidance to us still below. I’m often told to drink more water, or focus on my strengths. Four days in a row I drew the card that told me to GO NOW. Needless to say, I had no idea where I was supposed to go. No extra hints or messages were coming forth. I have drawn that card before when a trip was planned — either shopping, to the camper, or a trip of longer distance. I had plans to do neither. To say I was confused is an understatement.

This has been an extraordinary week. My youngest daughter’s mother-in-law is in the hospital for a pacemaker. My ex-son-in-law is in rehab for diabetes, tumor issues. My ex daughter-in-laws mother was in the hospital from issues stemming from diabetes. (She passed over on Sunday.) I just received word today that my middle daughter’s husband is in the hospital with chess pains. And my oldest daughter’s spouse is sick again. GO NOW!  Where exactly?

I became so frustrated, I shuffled the cards. I was advised to focus on my strengths. I  have been remiss on exercising.  My challenge is to heal the sore on my left leg, (still a painful issue, one step forward, two steps back,) and lose weight. Because of life, I haven’t been consist with exercise. Even though I eat healthy for the most part, sodium issues keep me honest, the pain adds an extra dimension to my life that I would happily discard.
I digress. The advise to GO NOW, became more understandable when my husband went to the camper without me on Sunday. Issues with Comcast, and an appointment, kept me in town.
While my husband was at the camper, the water heater connection over-heated, and melted. I’m not sure if that turned off the electric to our trailer or my husband’s desire to fix the problem caused the power outage. In either case, yesterday  he was able to connect the refrigerator to power and today, with the help of qualified service personnel the problem has been resolved.

Hopefully our Comcast problem has been fixed. More important, I’m trusting that all three of my son-in-laws, one an ex, will soon be recovered form their health problems. Enough friends in high places!
As for me, I will continue to do the best I can with each day. It might not be the best, but I’m trying!
When I mentioned the past couple of days to my oldest daughter, she advised me to write.  For a change, I listened.

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ROSES

So, how do I begin? Good question, no answer. I know I have written about roses before. I have written about the many times that roses have appeared in my life. I’m remembering  the unexplained rose, not the gift that comes in a bouquet from my husband or the beautiful flowers growing in gardens during the summer. Rather, I’m thinking about the unexplained rose —  the fragrance of a rose garden at Queen of Heaven cemetery in 1991.The scent announced the presence of the Blessed Virgin Mary. The rose that appeared on our mailbox in June the year my father passed. I thought it was a fresh rose, picked from a neighbors bush, — nope — a silk rose. Anonymous gift. Then, the white rose that I received at the Renaissance Faire  from Sir Walter Raleigh the week before my husband’s second cancer surgery.

This year, Mother’s Day week shopping in Dixon, Il., I discovered a beautiful long dress on sale that reminded me of a rose. Even though it was a purchase, I’m counting it among the roses. A) There were no other dresses like it. B) It FIT!

A new rose has just been added to the list. Our grandchildren came from Florida for a visit. Many of our family gathered on a hot Saturday at the Renaissance Faire to celebrate its 25th anniversary.  Rain was predicted, as well as hot temperatures but we only had one day available. Another hot, 95 degree day this summer. The Floridians were used to this heat, in fact, they thought it wasn’t hot at all. We thought they were nuts. But I digress.

Clouds gathered, a short misting decreased the temperature and the sun came out again. Thankfully we didn’t have a STORM which has occurred too often this summer.

I heard music, heralding the procession of the queen and her court. The sound called me.  As I stood there, a gentlemen dressed in all his finery, handed me five pink roses. And was quickly gone.

What a lovely surprise! I was reminded of the pink earrings that fell a couple of weeks ago, pink — the color of love. THANK YOU!

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GIFTS

Do you think all gifts come in boxes or are wrapped with beautiful paper and tied with a bow?

Once upon a time, I might have thought that was how gifts were given. I have since learned that those types of gifts are only a very small part of the presents we receive. I have already mentioned the trouble I had printing a chapter from To Pap, With Love. I thought the problem was in the description of the party, it took a long time before I learned that we had received a present — the storm clouds moved on and we had a beautiful day.

Our grandchildren are visiting from Florida. Temperature in the city was forecast to reach 100 degrees — not the time to visit the zoo — air conditioned space was preferred. I have a senior membership at the Field Museum, but that would allow only two adults to enter. We received a gift that day, we had tickets available for Genghis Khan which enabled both of our grandchildren to enter. Our grandson had read about his life and was very interested in seeing the exhibit.

This is not the first time that our membership : aquarium, museum or zoo, has allowed our grandchildren to enter at no additional cost to us. I always say “Thank You!”

Talking about museums, my grandchildren mentioned they would like to visit the Museum of Science and Industry. I DON’T HAVE a membership there. I remembered that the Library has passes available for the various museums. Each time I have tried to borrow one, none has been available. That didn’t stop me from phoning. I learned one was on hand, the Librarian suggested I run over. Temperature at 105, no — running was not an option. I planned to walk until I saw a darkened sky. A short rain shower cooled the temperature for a few minutes. “THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!”

We DO NOT have central air conditioning in our house. It is over a hundred years old and would require too much money to have it installed. We have gradually added a couple of window units, one per floor, to keep the temperature liveable.

Fourth of July, temperature 101, 105 forecast for Thursday. A transformer on our block quit working at 7:00 PM. At 5:30 AM I heard a hum in one of our bedrooms, electric was back on. I said “THANK YOU”!

I was worried about our remaining pug — Lexie is fourteen, deaf and partially blind. The two footed occupants of our house could go to a store, the museum or the mall.  What would we do for Lexie? She would not be able to handle the heat. Thankfully the electric was back on.

Often something happens which alerts us to a bigger problem. Water on the floor, unexplained noise in the car — little things that point to a possible problem if we are alert. Even though they are inconveniences, slivers or blisters at the time, they have saved us from damage. Last year, our car needed ball joints that was discovered during a  routine checkup before a trip. Recently the car needed stabilizer links.  Noise brought the problem to our attention.

Last but not least lets not forget the many people: friends, neighbors, doctors, mechanics, store clerks and complete strangers that are often there when we need them.

Just some of the gifts that are given to us on a regular basis.  Do you notice? Do you say “Thanks!”

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ONE PLUS ONE = FOUR?

(Celebrating the life of our Chocolate Lab Mabel, who passed over July 16, 2011)

                 I think I pay attention to the various messages that come my way since I know I have friends in high places who “help me” with my life. Sometimes it is the words of a friend or an article in the newspaper or book, a segment on television, or a song on the radio that gives me needed information.  And sometimes one plus one doesn’t equal two.

Last Saturday, July 16,  we sent a friend home. Mabel  is a chocolate Lab. She was twelve years old. She suffered from many of the ailments that are common to the elderly: arthritis, cataracts and hip problems. She survived breast cancer but had trouble walking up the stairs and her breathing had become labored.  The heat of the summer, the eighties, had become hard for her. She had to rest after her walks before climbing the stairs. Then the weather service predicted five days in the 90’s. It didn’t seem fair to let her suffer through the heat.

Our family was without a dog for two weeks when Mabel came to join us as a six week old puppy.  The house was too quiet without Cuyler. He was a very expressive dog, but timid. We had decided to let him be king of the house when we sent his mate home. We weren’t prepared for the energy of a puppy. And Mabel had plenty of energy. One of her favorite games was to let me chase her as she ran with a favorite toy around the dining room table into the front of the house and back again. She thought she was a lap dog and didn’t realize that she out grew the lap. We shared her with Sue, our youngest daughter.

Mabel was very smart but she flunked obedience school. She knew what we wanted her to do but she didn’t see a reason to do it. And I sent her to time out in the kitchen. She had her own pillow to sit on and think about what she did wrong. She spent a lot of time on that pillow.

When Sue got married we continued to share Mabel. Some weeks she lived with us, others were spent with Sue and her husband. When Sue got pregnant, and was unable to clean up after Mabel, she stayed with us most of the time.

Mabel loved Christmas. She knew there was a present for her under the tree and waited patiently for us to give it to her, then unwrapped it all by herself.

She loved car rides, playmates, water games, ice cream and going camping. Our grandchildren sat on her. She wasn’t bothered by thunder until a blast went off above her head. From then on thunder and fireworks were not her friends. She climbed the stairs and lay on the floor by my husband’s side of the bed whenever it was noisy.

We didn’t think she would ever calm down. When she was three years old she started to show some sense. Then this winter we realized she was having trouble with her hip.

I was hoping she would spend the summer and fall with us but the hot weather changed our plans. After a picnic in the park, Sue and her husband took her to the vet in their SUV.

ONE: Friday, July 15th, the heat had arrived when I received word that Marion, a friend at our campground, had passed. It was a surprise but I knew she had heart problems.

TWO: Saturday, July 16, Sue’s husband is a doctor and he commented that Mabel’s heavy breathing was an indication of heart problems.

THREE: Wednesday, July 20, the morning news concentrated on the heat, precautions to take and the warning that the excessive heat caused a person’s heart to work 30% more.

I was scheduled to have lunch with an 85-year-old friend, who had problems with her heart.  Dorothy wanted to go out but I was concerned for her safety and managed to persuade her to have lunch delivered and we would eat in the comfort of her home. When I drove home from her house the outside temperature of our car was 104.

I kept telling myself that sending Mabel home was for the best.  And I really believe it but I miss our girl.

Friday, July 22, my husband and I had breakfast at our neighborhood restaurant before running some errands. He keeps his feeling to himself but mentioned that he misses Mabel too.

Our last errand took us to Costco. I was happy to see that their gas station had opened and I walked over to investigate. When I approached the pumps, I recognized our neighbor, Ava. As she pumped gas, I told her about our decision to send Mabel home. She had seen us out for morning walks and was aware of her labored breathing. Ava is a doctor and mentioned that Mabel could have had a heart attack when we were walking her.

One plus one = four, this time I got the message.

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WALKING TO A DIFFERENT DRUMMER

Is that a photo of a toilet seat? Why? Yes it is, and I have included it because one very similar, fell off the top rack in a big box store and hit me on the head. No, I’m not kidding! I had a beautiful goose egg on my forehead for over a month and my eyes were very colorful — color changed daily.

It has taken many years but I have finally acknowledged that I walk to a different drummer. No, I’m not psychic, nor do I have communication with my intuition or guiding spirits. When I attend a guided meditation, I sit there with closed eyes and everyone else wanders to a lovely place, while I remain sitting there. A friend referred to me as chopped liver. I have been told that I have talents that I’m not using. And that may be true, but I haven’t developed them yet. Every once in a while I’m gifted with a prophetic dream or third eye vision. They are few and far between but I try to pay attention.

I’m aware that I have friends in high places that “help me” on a daily basis. Sometimes I’m aware of their help, many times they operate in the background without my knowledge.

Twice a year, I enjoy going to the Mind, Body, Spirit Expo. And that is where this story actually begins. Bluehawk Stec, who is very gifted at channeling the Ascended Masters, conducted a workshop. We were invited to ask questions of the Hawaiian Master. I decided to pass, I didn’t want to hear the answer. That was Sunday.

Monday, a beautiful summer day, I drove around town doing errands. I was very happy, moving right along, only a few more stops to make when I stopped to buy a new toilet seat. The toilet seat on the shelf above, fell down and hit me above my eye. (I had not jostled it or in any way disturbed it.) Immediately I went to customer service and asked if they had any ice. NO! My head was already swelling, they wanted to call an ambulance. I didn’t have a headache nor was I dizzy. I decided to go to the grocery store across the street. I promised I would return if I felt dizzy.

At the grocery store, I bought a frozen bag of peas and attached it to my head with a bandana. Then I went to the warehouse store. Since I’m a regular visitor, many enjoyed the spectacle that was me, walking around with peas on my head. Of course, I told them all my story. One asked what I was sitting on the pot about.

Of course, I have had experience being hit on the head by many things. Nothing as serious as the toilet seat.  I wondered if it was “my friends.” I wouldn’t put it passed them.

This year I asked the question at the Mind, Body, Spirit Expo and received the answer I knew I would get. “Yes, you know you  need to write another book!”

I solemnly promised family and friends that if I’m ever serious injured again, I will not refuse assistance.

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WHO IS THAT MAN?

My husband and I were in Florida for the graduations of our two older grandchildren — one from high school, the other from nurses training. Florida was experiencing heavy rain on a daily basis.  The rain gauge at my daughter’s house overflowed at 8 ½ inches. Despite the weather, both graduations, one held outdoors, were dry.

Taking advantage of a break in the weather, we wandered to St. Augustine. We stopped in the Cathedral-Basilica of St. Augustine — America’s first parish founded September 8, 1565. Outside it was a sunny, hot, humid 92 degrees. Inside, it was cool. As is my nature, I visited and took pictures of the various statues.

I recognized St. Joseph, Our Lady, The Infant Of Prague, and St. Patrick. One statue puzzled me. He wore a monks robe and was handing a loaf of bread to a man. I knew he wasn’t St. Francis of Assisi, no birds or other animals were present. When I inquired of a man wearing an ID from the cathedral, I was told it was St. Joseph. I explained why I knew it wasn’t St. Joseph. He wouldn’t have worn a monk’s robe. I thought it was St. Anthony of Padua. I seemed to remember that loafs of bread were handed out to celebrate his feast day.

I wasn’t familiar with St. Anthony until after my father’s death in 1995. I was downtown at St. Peter’s for Mass on a Tuesday when they said a novena to St. Anthony. Tuesday’s were free at the Art Institute and various exhibits called my name. I found myself downtown on numerous Tuesday’s after that, each time I stopped for Mass, and the novena. When the number of Tuesday’s increased, I realized that St. Anthony had to be involved. I was writing and trying to publish To Pap, With Love. I learned prayers were said to St. Anthony for missing items, but I didn’t think anything was missing. I was puzzled but curious. I decided to finish the novena — nine Tuesday’s which ended on his feast day.

Leaving church on that day, we were handed a small loaf of fresh Italian bread. I learned St. Anthony was known for his preaching ability. When his body was exhumed 30 years after his death, his tongue appeared to be alive. I laughed, I knew I needed help with the writing.

Before I started this blog, I was downtown on a Tuesday, to get city stickers for our cars and stopped at St. Peter’s for Mass and St. Anthony’s  Novena. Nothing has changed, I still NEED help with the writing!

Do you know who this man is?

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Some Lessons Are Hard To Learn

Just because I have friends in high places doesn’t mean that my life is easy. If I listened — but many years ago I must have stopped, because they don’t speak to me — life might be easier. As it is I muddle through, looking for hints, and guidance from various means. When an important message is trying to get through, it is repeated many times until I understand. It helps if I verbally say thank you or in some form acknowledge that I understand. Sometimes I even get physically hit on the head by cascading stuff from the freezer, or tree branches, or doors or car trunks. The ultimate was a toilet seat but that is a future story.

As I sit writing this thought ramble, I know that “someone is helping.” The font has already changed sizes. Computers were not a household item when my father was alive. A printer by trade, he complied a list for solving puzzles using a typewriter. I’ve heard that my mother was a court stenographer. I have not inherited that talent. If I had to write a book on a typewriter, it would NEVER have made it into print. First off, I flunked typing, second, my typing is atrocious. I might get ten words a minute with five errors.  I have to look at the keys.  (Laugh with me, that sentence was just italicized but I fixed it.)

Each chapter in both books went through many rewrites.  Believe me when I say that manually on a typewriter it NEVER WOULD HAVE HAPPENED!

While I learned to write our story on the computer, THEY HELPED!! It might be a change in font, or the computer would freeze or everything I wrote might just be deleted. After a while I learned that sometimes, what I was thinking was not part of the story. Sometimes a different message was trying to get through. I can’t tell you how many times I rewrote a story about a first communion party at my second daughter’s house for To Pap, With Love.  I think it was the fourth chapter, it was a cute story and I WANTED TO KEEP IT! Each time I printed that chapter the printer stopped at the party. When I FINALLY RECEIVED AND ACKNOWLEDGED the MESSAGE the chapter printed with no problem.

What was the message you might ask? We received a present that day–  a beautiful day.

With their “help” I got sidetracked.  Back to my original thought.

Recently I read a question in one of the magazines or books that cross my path.  It asked the reader to list 10 people that where important in their life. I wrote out my list. Then a few pages forward, it asked where on the list I was. Would you believe, I wasn’t on there at all.

I wish I could say that after that bit of enlightenment I’m now on my list. NOPE! But I’m trying. I’m sodium restricted which has made a HUGE change in my diet. If I have too much sodium, my ankles swell and walking becomes painful. A job from hell (more about that later) caused circulation problems. I’m not diabetic, nor do I think I have heart problems but I get sores on one of my legs that don’t want to heal. I’m overweight — try as I might — my fat loves me. Therefore, I have to remember when I’m in the store, to  buy foods that I can eat too. I’m sure it will come as no surprise when I say that most of the food I can eat, my husband prefers not to.  Most of what he likes, I can’t eat.

I’m trying to be on my list, are you on yours?

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Sometimes There Is No Answer

It started off as a normal day. I opened Queen Of Angels to Cure For Inconveniences and I laughed. Each morning I open both the Bible and Queen of Angels randomly and read the chapter for the day. When I read the meditation “If I am a true believer, I accept my path in this life. …. Each inconvenience is an opportunity to trust God’s divine Love and Providence in my life,” I laughed again.

I won’t bore you with the details of why this particular chapter was so appropriate except to list two examples. Flying home from Florida on Tuesday,  we learned our departing flight was delayed, causing us to miss our connection. New travel plans meant leaving at 2:00PM  for the airport instead of five.    (Oh, you’re not packed!) Luggage in an open bed of a truck, the sky opened up and our luggage got a bath.

On the home front, Tidbit, our pug had developed diabetes. The disease caused a pressure in her left eye. The vet suggested the eye be removed. The operation was Tuesday. Our son picked us up at the airport with a recovering pug that was now blind and could not be left alone.

I thought my Floridian daughter would appreciate the meditation. She did and asked that I email it to her. As I typed the message, I heard a faint tinkling of something. Investigating I found two tiny pink earrings laying on the buffet behind me. Pink is the color of LOVE!

An hour later, our phone rang. “This is a voice from your past,” my cousin Bob said. I had not talked to him in a few months, he is dealing with challenging health issues. Last July, he had a knee replaced.  A month later it developed an infection — four operations later he is still dealing with the problem. He credits his mother for his optimism and attitude. She was always positive, “We Can DO IT!” He is always positive, we can do it.

In March, he thought he would get a new knee but the doctor discovered another infection, so he is still wearing a pick line and waiting for the infection to go away.  Therefore, he is not able to be very active. While watching the History channel on a story about egg candeling, he remembered when he lived at 1900 N. Keeler. A man in the garage behind the building candeled eggs for a business. Bob shared the story with his wife that night.

The next morning, on his bedside table, he found a Juvenile Library card from 1957, issued in his name with the address of 1900 N. Keeler. He has no idea where it came from. It wasn’t a momento that he kept for years. The card wasn’t torn or damaged, just a little wrinkled around the edges.

THANKS MOM!

He shared the story with me because he knew I would understand. And he is correct, I do!

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