Pennies from Heaven

When my mother was a small child, she always carried coins in her black-and-white saddle shoes for safekeeping.   It became a habit that she continued into her adulthood.  My mother always placed pennies in her shoes before putting them on her feet.  “It brings me good luck,” she would say whenever I questioned her about it.

I never could figure out how Mom’s ritual brought her good fortune, especially when her old shoes had numerous holes.  But my mother truly believed in her superstition and, I guess, there were a few times when it was a true blessing.  When I was a child, I remember watching my mother scrape spare change together from the bottom of her purse to pay for the weekly groceries.  If she was still a few cents short, Mom, standing right there in the check-out line, would step out of her shoes and pick out the coins that she had placed there for providence.  She would hand the coins to the cashier, and then, with her head held high, she would step back into her shoes, gather together her groceries and children and proudly walk out of the store.  Yeah, there were times when those pennies brought her real luck and good fortune.

Though I never put pennies in my shoes, there was another coin tradition Mom taught me that I completely embraced.  Mom believed in “pennies from heaven.”  Every time she randomly found a coin on the ground, Mom would tell me that an angel was watching over her.  Whenever angels are near they leave gifts of coins and feathers.  I have always had a great belief in angels and continually looked for spare change whenever I needed a boost of faith.  I rarely found the reassurance I was looking for.

Well, that was until my mother passed away on March 16 of 2010.  After that day, coins suddenly seemed to appear around me at the most random times and in the most unusual places.  From the very first penny I found after Mom passed, I truly believed it was a sign from heaven that she was still looking out for me.  And whenever I found more valuable coins I felt doubly blessed.  Whenever I find pennies, I always think of Mom and her ritual even though I keep the coins I find in a special glass vase and never in my sneakers.

For some reason, I’m not sure why, I suddenly thought of Mom and the spare change she kept in her shoes while I was at work on Easter Sunday.  I didn’t consciously concentrate on the memory.  It just came and went as a passing thought.

But that afternoon, my right shoes suddenly felt a little funny.  I took a few steps and felt a strange pressure at the bottom of my right toe.  I shook my foot trying to shake away the feeling.  It didn’t help.  Every step I took caused a small achy pressure into my toes.  I tried hard to ignore it.  I was at work and didn’t want to be bothered by something so trivial.  I knew there was something in my shoe but didn’t know what it was.  Finally, when the pressure was too annoying, I took off my right shoe, held it up over my left hand, and shook my sneaker.  To my surprise, a nickel fell out of my shoe and came to rest  in the center of my palm.

I stared at the coin in surprise.  I don’t know how the nickel suddenly got into my shoe that Sunday afternoon.  What an amazing Easter gift.  I whispered a quiet thank you to my mom and my many angels for always looking out for me.  Even though I had to work on this holiday, it was, without a doubt, the best, most blessed Easter I had  ever had.

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No Angel

For the last 25 years, I have celebrated a minimalist Christmas.  I don’t set up a Christmas tree.  I don’t put out any decorations.  I buy a few presents, but don’t expect any in return.  I don’t watch any Christmas specials.  I don’t set up my native scene.  My small plaster figurines of Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and the angels are safely wrapped up and tucked away in storage.  I usually spend every Christmas alone.

I wasn’t raised this way.  My mother loved Christmas.  It was one of the few holidays she continued to celebrate even after her children were grown.  Mom always decorated a Christmas tree using ornaments she had collected throughout the years.  Most of the decorations consisted of cotton ball snowmen, clothes pin reindeers, and clay handprints Mom’s children made in elementary school.  Mom always loved these awkward, lopsided, misshapen ornaments the most.  Every year, Mom also set up a native scene, though she always had to stop my sisters and me from playing with the Jesus figure as if he was our very own baby doll.  She would put vines of holly around every door and trays of candy on every table.  Mom always said that Christmas is a time for miracles.  That idea is the only tradition of Christmas that I carry with me from my childhood.

While so many people celebrate the holiday with the traditional tinsel and glimmer, Christmas for me is always a time of quiet reflection.  I always spend Christmas day in prayer, meditation, contemplation, and silent worship of Christ.  I want this one special day to be 100% God-focused.  I don’t want presents, or trees, or wreaths to distract me from my communion with Christ.  Even though I celebrate a modest holiday, it is continually filled with peace and elation.  The feeling is so blissful, I always pledge every Christmas that I will make this joy last all year long.  I’m always determined that I will continue to hold Jesus in my soul.  I want to get to know Christ more; I want to carry him within my heart and not let minor things of this world bother me and cause me to lose my focus.  I want to maintain Christmas joy for the rest of the year.

Unfortunately, this year, I didn’t even make it a week….

Christmas was on Sunday, December 25^th, of course.  For the next few days, I was happy, and peaceful.  I felt grateful and blessed.  All my good intentions, however, crashed down around me by Thursday, December 29.  Yes, Thursday…just four days later!

That morning, I woke up at 2:30 to get to work by 4.  I started the day off well.  I said my daily prayers before I walked out the door.  The drive to work in the morning darkness was enchanting and thought-provoking.  I thought about life and God and everything in the universe.  Twice that morning, on two separate occasions, two of my co-workers talked about God with me.  To my surprise, they just randomly began to discuss God’s graciousness, his goodness, and his love for all of his children.  Their conversation made me smile.  Their words just enhanced the bliss I was already feeling.

A little later that morning, the computer I was using suddenly froze.  I tried everything I could think of to get the computer running again.  I turned it off and on; I punched control-alt-delete several times.  All the quick fixes I could think of failed me.  The computer remained frozen on a bright blue background with the computer logo flashing across the screen.  I told myself not to panic.  I took a deep breath and remembered that Archangel Michael was the angel to call on to fix appliances.  So I placed both of my hands on the monitor and started to pray:’

“Archangel Michael, please help me.  I have a lot of work I need to complete and the computer won’t work.  I need your help to fix my computer so I can finish my assignments.”

Suddenly, I heard a beep and saw a flash out of the corner of my eye.  In the midst of my prayer, the computer came flickering back to life.  I thanked Archangel Michael for us assistance and was able to get all of my work done on time.

So, the day was going well with many opportunities to remain God-focused even during my hectic working day.

So why did I suddenly lose my faith that afternoon?

I had been working hard.  I had multiple assignments and was doing my best to complete additional jobs for a few people who had called in sick.  I thought I had followed all assignments correctly.  I thought I was doing very well and remained in a state of grace…for a while…

Only when I believed I was being unfairly criticized by my supervisor for a miscommunication did my faith and my peace desert me.  When I felt unnecessarily attacked in front of my peers, my focus suddenly shifted away from God.  I had given into my ego.  I had given into my fears.  Why didn’t I just continue to trust in God and know that this moment would pass, too?  Why didn’t I remind myself that God still loved me and he would not forsake me even when I felt humiliated and disrespected?  Instead of just nodding my head and correcting the situation, I argued back that the directions I had been given were not clear.  I demonstrated to my supervisor that I had done the work according to her plan.  I continued defending myself by reminding her that I had checked in an hour ago to explain what I was doing with the assignment and my supervisor had told me I was correct.

But as I argued my point, I didn’t feel vindicated or victorious.  I felt horrified, sad, and embarrassed by my behavior.  I was ashamed of myself for not just letting the perceived injustice go.  I responded to the stress of the moment with more stress.  I responded to negativity with negativity.  I made a bad situation worse.

For just that moment that Thursday afternoon after Christmas, I had slipped away from God.  I remind myself that I am only human; I am by no means an angel.  I am here on earth now to learn and to grow and to change and to better my soul the same way I must do in every lifetime.  I just have to accept that there will be times when I will fall from grace, and I must keep the faith that God is still there for me even in those moments.  I have to remember that God will always be by my side even when I am far from perfect.

I still feel angry with myself now that, for a brief moment, I lost sight of what was really important in this world.  Now, I search for God once more.  I open my heart and my soul again to accept Lord Jesus Christ.  And I must remember even when I have my bad moments, I am still one of God’s children.  I am one of his lesser angels…and he still loves me all the same…He will guide me to heaven even in those moments when I do not think I am worth the effort.  He has come to save my soul from my own ego and insecurities….

In Christ, I am continually reborn….

And maybe, just maybe, that is the true meaning of Christmas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Special Messenger

In the past, I didn’t always talk or write about the odd occurrences that happened in my life.  I was always concerned that people would think that I was crazy or lying or “different.”  It used to embarrass me, but I don’t really worry about that any more.  I am proud that my life has always been somewhat unusual.  I like having strange things happen.  I love those “out of the blue” moments that make me wonder about life, miracles, and magic.  I have had incredible visions of angels who bring me messages and I have seen random ghosts drifting aimlessly beside me.  But the sudden, strange encounters I have with other people really inspire me.  I experienced another odd occurrence just last Saturday.

Up until that very moment, I hadn’t been feeling very comfortable or proud of myself.   I was feeling ashamed and frustrated.  I know I am not perfect and I certainly make my share of mistakes.  That doesn’t bother me.  I can always correct any errors I make and learn from the experience.  But there are times when it is difficult for me to forgive myself.  For instance, I can be snappish and disagreeable when I am physically not feeling well.  When I am tired or hungry, I admit that I am not the most pleasant person to be around.  I don’t like myself when I behave this way.  And sometimes I have a hard time forgiving myself for basically being human.

Last week, I was just feeling as if I didn’t fit in anywhere.  I felt like an absolute outcast.  I have always felt “different,” but for the last few days, I felt my situation more acutely.  My need to connect with other people was not being satisfied and my aloneness didn’t feel good this time.  I felt as if I was zigging while everyone else was zagging.  I was completely out of synch with the people around me.  I was continually saying the wrong things and being in the wrong place and feeling the wrong emotions and coming to all the wrong conclusions.  I don’t know if it was because of my personality or my attitude or my beliefs.  Instead of embracing my uniqueness like I normal do, this time I just felt lost and worthless.

So by last weekend, I was feeling down and depressed.  Maybe I was just overly exhausted.  My schedule can get crazy.  My main plan for this year was to take a hiatus from teaching and concentrate on writing full time.  But desperately needing health insurance, I took a job at a department store.  I work at the store early in the day, teach a few non-credit classes at the community college, and write late into the night.  I don’t know why but I am most creative at night and can be up until 2 or 3 am finishing up a single piece of work.  This schedule is mandatory but leaves me exhausted and cranky to people when I really want to connect.  It’s a vicious cycle that I know only I can break.  So Saturday, I decided to make a change in my attitude.  It actually wasn’t hard since the store was so busy that day.  It was the last weekend before Thanksgiving and the anticipation of the upcoming holiday made the day a little more exciting.

That afternoon, I was trying to complete my stocking work while assisting customers and mainly directing them around the store.  I suddenly noticed an older man wondering around lost in the middle of aisle 10 in the grocery department.  He had short, gray hair and a kind, clean-shaven face.  He wore tattered jeans and a brown leather jacket.

I approached the man and smiled at him.  “Sir, can I help you with something?”

He looked at me with a shy grin and said, “I just need to put this back and I can’t remember where I got it?”  He held out a box of Lean Cuisine to me.

“Oh, that’s fine,” I assured him.  “I’ll take care of it for you.”

I reached out my hand and took the box away from him.  That should have been the end of the encounter but then something strange happened.  The man told me thank you but he didn’t walk away.  He just stood there for a moment and stared at me.  His response caused me to behave in the same way.  I just stood awkwardly for a moment and stared back.  I was waiting to see if he had any other questions or problems.  But was fascinated by the fact that he didn’t move.  He didn’t make a single movement now.  His body stood mannequin still and straight, not a single muscle in his body moved a twitch.  He stood as if paralyzed in the moment.  His expression did not change, but his eyes began to glow.  I was captivated by his unusual eyes that slowly began to fade to a light gray and almost dissolved to a ghostly white.  An unusual spark began to glow behind his irises.  And then the man said to me, “Don’t worry, Jamie.  There are people just like you in heaven.”

My mouth fell open in surprise.  Why would he say that to me?  How could he possibly have known that I had been feeling like an outcast for the past several days?

Then the man turned and started to walk away.  I kind of made a fool of myself then because I suddenly giggled.  Yes, I actually giggled.  It was just a nervous reaction to his words.  Then the statement “God bless you” came tumbling out of my mouth.  I don’t know why I felt compelled to say this.  It just seemed like the appropriate response.  The man turned and looked at me again with his gray/white eyes and said, “And God has blessed you” before he walked behind one of the short, 3-foot wide fixtures that sat in the center of the main aisle.  As I thought about his words, I just stood there watching him as he walked behind the fixture….I waited…and waited…but he never came out the other side.  There was only one way in and out behind this fixture.  There was nowhere else for him to go.  He could only walk around the fixture.  Wondering about this, I walked over and peeked around the metal shelves of the fixture on the far side.  The man wasn’t there!  He wasn’t behind the fixture at all.  He was just gone!

I don’t know what had happened to the man, and sometimes, as I think over the situation, I wonder if he had even been human at all.  My mind sometimes pictures him as an angel, a messenger of God.  For he had brought me a message I needed to hear.  I know now that even if I am an outcast, God has not forsaken me.  I know now that even though I may struggle with my place on earth, there are people who cared about me in heaven.  I am never alone.  God and his many angels will always be with me and all people who believe.

 

 

 

 

Sunday Mornings

I didn’t always like Sundays when I was a child.  When I was in grade school, my family attended church every Sunday morning at 10:30.  It was a ritual I was expected to perform without question and without choice.  As a result, instead of feeling peaceful and blessed, I remember just feeling anxious, exhausted, and bored.  Even though I had visions of angels, I didn’t feel connected to religion.  Though I didn’t understand it at the time, somewhere in my heart, I was developing my own faith, my own belief system.  Now, that I am older and feel free to express my personal feelings and thoughts, I have become more spiritual, loving, and faithful.  Even though I am not a churchgoer, I love Sundays now! I look forward to Sunday mornings all week.  I enjoy the simplicity and laziness of a beautiful Sunday morning.  To me, there is just something so peaceful and enjoyable about Sundays.

I don’t want to rush around on Sunday mornings.  I don’t want to feel stress or anxiety.  I usually spend Sunday mornings studying, reading, writing, and contemplating life while indulging in a large cup of black coffee.  So, on this Sunday morning, May 3, 2015, I woke up around 7:30, got dressed, and drove to a small café for coffee.  I sat in a small booth in the restaurant and unpacked the three books I had brought with me that day.  Several years ago, a teacher told me to always carry around three books: one for study, one for entertainment, and one for prayer or spiritual awakening.  Everywhere I go now, I travel with a bag of books.  Since this was Sunday morning, I decided to concentrate on the spiritual awakening.  I opened up my book by Brian Weiss and took out my notebook.  I usually take notes on everything I read unless I’m reading for entertainment.  I found myself completely relaxing now as I opened up my notebook, picked up my pen, and began to write down information on the immortality of the soul.  I breathed a heavy sigh as I felt my body relaxing.

Suddenly, I found myself jumping when I heard a loud voice shout, “What the f**k did that mean?”

I shivered and cringed for a moment as the strong male voice continued to shout.  “Man, that was the strangest s**t I ever did see,” the man hollered.

Loud, unfamiliar voices make me uncomfortable. I remember my father’s loud, stern voice and the anger his words would conveyed.  I get nervous around loud noises, especially when I am out on my own.  There have been so many news stories of people being horribly violent in public places.  I worry that someone will strike out at me for some reason and I have no protection.  As the man continued to shout, my first thought was, “I need to leave.”  I put down my pen, closed my notebook, and grabbed my bag…

…But suddenly I stopped moving.  I sat silently for a moment.  Instead of yelling now, the man was laughing; the sound echoed around the room, bouncing off the walls.  His laughter wasn’t cruel, maniacal, or hateful.  His full, loud laughter instead was joyful, happy, and hearty…and it made me smile.

I glanced up, and straight in front of me, sitting at a table, was a group of four young men and one young woman.  The man who had been yelling was dressed in a stained, torn tank top and khaki shorts.  His long, curly, dark hair was pulled back under a blue folded bandana.  His companions were dressed in a similar fashion.  All five of the people sitting at the table looked like they had been lost in the desert for a few days.  And yet there was something still so fresh and beautiful about them.  They were dusty not dirty.  They were loud but not angry.  They were cussing but not offensive.

The people were a strong contradiction to my day.  My quiet Sunday morning had been interrupted and yet it still felt peaceful.  I was reading about the immortality of the soul and watching people express their true spirits right in front of me.  I am alone and yet felt connected to the people around me.  As the group sitting across from me yelped and hollered and laughed, my day seemed to be more loving, serene, and calm.  I loved their energy.  I loved their spirit.  I loved the way they playfully teased and laughed with each other. The five people seemed to remind me that even though I am an older woman, I am, every day, growing younger.

After about another half hour, the five young people left the café and I returned to my book.  I couldn’t concentrate now though.  I felt pumped up, energized, and ready to get on with my day.  I didn’t want to sit in quiet contemplation today.  I wanted to laugh.  I wanted to scream out.  I wanted to be heard.  I felt so blessed to see people so alive and joyful today.  What more could I have possibly prayed for?  My peaceful Sunday morning had been suspended, and yet I have never felt so close to God.  Sundays don’t have to be quiet, but they can always be blissful.

Easter 2015

I usually spend holidays alone, and today, April 5, 2015, Easter, was no exception.   I don’t really plan to keep my holidays to myself.  I would have loved to be with a group of children hunting for Easter eggs.  I would have loved to dress up in bright new Easter clothes in colors that glorified the coming of spring.  I would have loved to sit down at a table with my loved ones praying and giving thanks before joining in on a feast of good food, conversation, and laughter.

But that isn’t my life right now.  I am single with no children.  My whole family is back in Kansas while I am in California.  And even though I have caring friends, they have their own families and traditions to enjoy today.

So, I just spent this holy day like any other day.  I woke up around 8:30 am and enjoyed a creamy smooth cup of coffee.  When I have to go to work, I usually don’t get a chance to relax and daydream over coffee.  I sipped the hot drink and thanked God for my peaceful morning.  I listened to gospel music and sang along in joyous celebration.  I spent the majority of the day working on my new novel.  I felt so surprisingly inspired today that the words just poured out of me.  For some reason, on holidays, every little thing seems so precious to me even if I have done it a million times before.   I thought about my life and my lonely holiday and for some reason instead of feeling depressed, this story kept ran through my head.

About two years ago, I decided I needed to get away for a weekend.  I drove the four hours to Vegas and spent the evening walking the strip, taking pictures, and seeing the Shaina Twain concert.  Even though, I was having a great time, I was feeling restless as I walked back to the Flamingo Hotel.  I went to my room feeling sad, nauseous, lonely, and nervous.  I turned on the TV but couldn’t drown out the sound of loud, sad crying.  Oh, the sobs weren’t mine.  I could hear a baby crying in the room next door.  The cries just made me feel worse.  It’s hard to hear a baby cry in public sometimes and know I can do nothing about it.  My instinct is to love and comfort the baby, but I certainly couldn’t do that now.

So I finally laid down in bed, listened to the baby cry, and prayed for peace and comfort for both of us.  Finally, the baby and I both quieted down and I fell into a deep sleep.  I slept for a few hours when suddenly I came shooting awake.  I could hear someone moving around in my room!  I was a little unnerved about this.  I had checked to make sure the entrance and balcony doors were both locked before I had went to bed.   I caught my breath and tried not to make any noise as I heard the footsteps of someone walking around my room.  I laid perfectly still as I listened to the sound of someone fumbling in my opened suitcase.   I fought back a scream as I felt the bed suddenly rock back and forth as if someone had knocked into the side of it.  It was only when I felt the mattress sag down on the opposite side from where I was that I came shooting straight up in the bed.  It felt as if someone had actually sat down on the mattress.  I sat up, turned to look to my right…

…and there sitting on the side of the bed was an angel.  I stared in shock.  The angel’s back was to me so I could see her wings perfectly.   She did not have full large wings like I have seen in pictures and visions of other angels.  Her wings were small, full, curved at the top by her shoulders and then feathered out to rounded points by her waist.  The wings were situated on either side of her spine.  Her thin dark blond hair was pulled back in a small loose bun at the nape of her neck.  She had on a gown that was flowing but set close to her body.  Her gown was off-white, silky and loose at the top showing the upper part of her back and shoulders.  I saw the curve of her waist and just the top part of her legs.

What really got my attention, though, was that her head was bent forward and rested in the palm of her left hand.  I don’t understand why the angel had her hand up to her forehead.  She seemed so sad and I didn’t understand why.  I did feel, however, that this angel was taking away pain.  She was taking away all of the hurt and confusing I was feeling.  I wondered for a moment if this was why the baby had stopped crying, too.  Did the angel comfort the baby first before coming to see me?

Suddenly, my attention was drawn across the room.  I looked towards the windows and then, for some reason, turned to look at the clock.  It was 3 am.  I turned back to look at the angel…and she was gone.  I wish I could have talked to her.  But it really didn’t matter.  I was safe and warm and soon drifted back off to a peaceful sleep.

I wondered for a moment while this particular memory kept presenting itself to me today and then I suddenly realized something.  I was reminded of God, angels, and love today.  I guess I really didn’t spend Easter by myself.

Happy Easter, everyone!  God Bless You!