Letters from Camp #5

pinkskylightbeamsCredit Where Credit is Due

For over two decades, I have been interacting with my guides. Some of them I knew by name, some of them I did not. Their energies are familiar to me, and I am always grateful for their presence in my life. I recently learned who was who, and who did what. I’d had a general sense of this before, but now I’ve been given a model close to what I was familiar with, that dovetailed perfectly with my life experiences.

So now, I can officially give credit to my beloved Companions in Spirit where the credit is properly due:

My Protector (aka the Bouncer). I first met this being in the living room of my house when I began this part of my spiritual journey over two decades ago. I found myself – led by Spirit – at the home of an acquaintance who had some Native American guests visiting. I was invited to partake in a People’s Pipe ceremony with the wife while the husband watched from a distance. I do not know the purpose of it to this day, but I did have an interesting experience. I was very intent on following the lead of the woman during our time together, and when I was holding the pipe myself – anticipating some profound experience – I heard clearly in my head: “Go home and sit in the (channelling) chair.” That was it. I finished the ceremony, and took my leave of the people.

When I went home, I did as I’d been guided and sat in the chair where many of the first  lessons were received. Almost immediately, a Native American man dressed in white buckskins with a white wolf pelt over his right shoulder and a golden eagle perched on his left forearm appeared in my inner vision. He was large, muscular with piercing eyes and long jet black hair flowing loose down his back except for one braided section. He identified himself as Medicine Eagle, and called me by my true name. It brought tears to my eyes. He said he had some things to show me. He reached out his hand, I took it, and we walked down a path.

He explained that we’d had a lifetime together as Native Americans but that we had gotten distracted from our reason for incarnating. This time, we decided that I would come into form and that he would stay on the other side of the veil so that we could accomplish our purpose. It has to do with helping those who carry in their hearts the desire to return home no matter their situation or circumstances.

From time to time over the years, I have been very aware of his presence, and always it was when it was time to do something connected with our purpose. Generally, I always felt he was there, but watching. Now I know he is my Protector.

My most recent experience when I felt he was responsible for keeping me safe, perhaps even keeping me alive, was in late October of this year. I was on a short trip with a friend who’d come along to help me out. I am usually tired after the weekend activities, and my friend often drives. I woke up early that Sunday morning with a feeling I needed to drive, at least until we got out of the city. As we loaded the car, I told her that. She immediately agreed, and hopped into the passenger seat.

We set out. Traffic wasn’t bad, and we were coming up on the interchange that would require a left-hand exit (two lanes) from the north-south freeway onto the east-west freeway. It was cramped, with narrower lanes due to construction in the area. I had concrete barriers to my left as I was in the far left lane. There was a semi truck in the lane right next to me, and I tend to give some room there so the trailer, if it drifts as the truck goes around the left-turning curve, won’t crowd me. I dropped back about two car lengths.

When I did, the black Suburban that was next to me decided to pass the truck. He did not put on a turn signal, he just began to come over into our lane. (We must have been in his blind spot.) I’m glad he didn’t make a sudden lane change. We would not have had anywhere to go to avoid a collision. I saw him drifting into our lane, and a calmness came over me. I felt as if I were watching both the truck coming towards our car on the right and the distance between our car and the cement barriers to my left. I heard: ‘Just drift with him,’ so with my right hand, I drifted while I laid on the horn with my left hand.

My friend watched out the passenger window. Though it only lasted a few seconds, time really was distorted in that moment. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, and I just hoped he would see us, or hear the horn, before there was no more room to maneuver. The semi trailer did drift a bit into my lane, but I chose to speed up a little so he could see us. The car came close, but seemed to not get any closer than a few inches from us. It was as if there was an invisible cushion between the two vehicles.

He, startled, immediately fell back behind the semi truck.

The shaking didn’t start until after the danger had passed. When my friend and I talked about what had just happened, I told her I’d awakened with the sense I needed to drive. She replied that she’d had the feeling she wasn’t supposed to drive, but didn’t want to say anything because I’d asked her to be ready to fill in for part of the trip. I pointed out that there was a lesson in there for her, as well. At least voice the feeling and let things go from there. Keeping silent, if I hadn’t followed that little nudge I’d been given, could have caused this story to have a very different ending.

Before my trip to Camp, I might have said that it was Spirit, the angels, that helped us out of that sticky situation. Now I am giving credit where the credit is due: I thank my beloved Medicine Eagle for keeping me safe as I do my part to help us get it right this time. I have more days on Earth to continue the work, thanks to his intervention.

The next Letter will continue this part of the story. There are other Spirit helpers to properly thank.

May Light always surround you.

All original material posted to this site is (c)2016 – , Julia Marie. All rights reserved.

Letters from Camp #2

Camp Chesterfield Sign

Meeting Solomon and Charlie

When I went to explore Camp Chesterfield in July of 2016, I went with some hesitation. My past experiences with Spiritualist Camps in particular, and Spiritualist Churches in general have been – well, mixed is the best word to use.

When I was first reawakened almost 30 years ago, Spirit led me into a tiny Spiritualist church on the West Coast, but based on later experiences in other Spiritualist organizations, you wouldn’t know it was a Spiritualist Church. There was a healing service and a message giving time, but both blended into the regular Sunday service. The founder of this little church was a tiny powerhouse of a woman (supported by her delightful husband Jim) with cornflower blue eyes that – with one glance – could pierce you to your very core. Her name was Beulah. I don’t think it was an accident that one of the meanings for this name is ‘lady-boss’. She certainly was the center around which that church revolved.

There is a whole magnificent teaching story with this Master, but I will save that for some other time. The point of mentioning this church was the sense of welcome and warmth I felt when I stepped into this small, close-knit community. Almost a generation’s worth of years later, I walked into a large well-established Spiritualist church and barely made it to the end of the service. I left, trembling, and decided that was not the place for me. I’ve never been back.

I won’t mention the OTHER Camp I visited that left me disillusioned about all things Spiritualist. There have been some changes there since last I worked there, and I am sure they have been only for the better. When I left there, I left feeling that perhaps this Spiritualism thing was not for me in any form. Yet I kept finding myself on Spiritualist websites (mostly English – as in England – ones). Well, when would I ever have the resources to study in England? Probably never, to be honest here.

Then came the repeated hints (I now understand they were coming from my Dr Teacher) to give the ‘sunflower philosophy’ one more chance. This year, 2016, was the time to do that. I recently moved to a state that put me within a comfortable day’s drive of Camp Chesterfield, so the travel obstacle was removed. I discovered they offer a training program that I can participate in according to my means and time schedule. That provides an incentive to explore in that direction.

I took things slowly. I enrolled for a weekend workshop with someone whose books I’d read and enjoyed. I enjoyed the grounds and the overall atmosphere of the place. (Notice I didn’t use the obvious phrase: I really liked the ‘Spirit’ of the place.)

But this Letter is about exactly that: the Spirit of the place. I had the most intense experience while in that brief workshop. The workshop leader guided us through a relaxation/grounding meditation, and then said that now we would have the opportunity to meet one of our Spirit guides, the one we most needed to connect with according to our current place on our spiritual journey.

I’ve never had such a physical reaction to the presence of anyone in Spirit, except for the times when crossed-over loved ones hit me in the heart with the intensity of their love and it makes me want to cry. I have ‘seen’ Spirit guides and loved ones clairvoyantly and ‘heard’ them speak clairaudiently, but rarely have the communications been so clear as they were this day, in this place.

He stood directly in front of me, eyes blazing. Robed and carrying a staff, he just worked with the energy of my 3rd chakra, my heart chakra, my throat, my 3rd eye and my temples as well. I felt all of this in my physical body during the brief meditation. When we came back from the guided meditation, it took me awhile to come back to normal, waking life self. I proceeded to do a sketch of this being, and as I worked, I heard the name Solomon. Right after I finished the drawing, I concentrated on coming back to normal awareness.

In the process of ‘coming back down’, I saw very clearly a smiling red-haired, slightly balding, short-statured man. With this image, I heard the name ‘Charlie’. What the heck? I thought. Who the heck is this Charlie fellow? Is he someone’s crossed-over loved one? Sometimes I see them clearly enough to draw them. No one claimed him. For no apparent reason, I heard an old hymn in my head while I sketched Charlie. I filed that away, too.

Later that day, I had a reading with the workshop facilitator. I wanted to experience her process. Towards the end of the reading, she mentioned the name Charlie and tried to place him as one of my relatives in Spirit. the problem is, I don’t HAVE a relative named Charlie in Spirit. When I said so, she just replied ‘Well, I’ll just leave you with that, then.’ I left a bit confused, but knew that the mention of Charlie was something I needed to pay attention to.

Later that evening, there was an All-Medium Message service in the Chapel. I thought the extra donation would be worth the experience, so I went. Messages were flying to people all around me, and some were getting more than one. I was curious as to whether anyone was going to come to me. The demonstrations were drawing to a close. There was only one medium left, and she was going to do flower messages. The hymn chosen to introduce her was the same song I’d heard in my head earlier that day.

OK. NOW I’m paying attention. Then she asked anyone who had not yet received a message to raise their hands. Up went my hand. I told Spirit in my head which flowers I wanted them to impress her to choose for me so that I could know she was for real listening to Spirit. The vase began to empty. Then she reached for the flowers I had chosen for myself. She pulled them out, and gave a message to someone else. ‘Bummer,’ I thought.

She gave another couple of messages before she turned to me. She reached for the flowers from the vase, and struggled to free them. All of them started – and kept – trying to come out in a clump. Even she made the comment that they were fighting her. Inside, I smiled. Spirit was letting me know they TRIED to impress her to pull those particular flowers for me. She literally had to use both hands to wrestle the ones she’d chosen for me from the vase.

I don’t remember the exact words she first spoke to me, but it had to do with my willingness to Serve Spirit. Then, as she was winding down, she mentioned Charlie. Here it was AGAIN. When things come to me in threes, I pay very close attention, especially when they are so close in time. OK. So I don’t have a loved one in Spirit named Charlie, but someone named Charlie is definitely trying to get my attention!

I went home with a lot of questions but knowing that, as always, when I am supposed to know something, I will. I have been living with the knowledge that the Universe does not waste energy. I will know what I need to know WHEN I need to know it, and not a moment sooner.

I’d been sensing for months that I was in the middle of what can only be termed a second awakening on the level of that re-awakening I’d experienced in my 30s. And now, with this trip to Camp Chesterfield, came the awareness that this sense was on track. I could hardly wait for what would be coming next.

Life is a series of awakenings.                                                                      ~Swami Mukeiji

All original material posted to this site is (c) 2016 -, Julia Marie. All rights reserved.

Brother Crow – A Full Circle Moment

When I was on the West Coast recently visiting my daughter, I had a powerful experience that I know was a full-circle moment. I know there is a powerful message there for me, and I wait for it to be revealed in the fullness of time.

CrowbywaterYes, it involves another encounter with one of my closest Spirit Animal allies: Crow. You can find the story of my first encounter with crow here. Over the years, I have had more than one luminous, unusual encounter with the power of Crow Medicine. This month, I encountered Crow in the very same fashion as when I first walked past the crow that was lying dead in the gutter by the curb.

I threw my back out while visiting my daughter and needed to drive to Tacoma (the town I lived in when I was opened back up to the Voice of Spirit). The chiropractor that used to treat me when I was in the military still practices there, and is always happy to squeeze me in if needed. Now, I could have gone with my daughter and her boyfriend, but if I had, I doubt I would have had the experience I did.

I arrived in Tacoma early for my appointment, and there was a Starbuck’s across the street, so I went over to the store to get a coffee and something to snack on. I didn’t want to sit in the store because it was a wonderful day and I didn’t want to sit in the parking lot, either. I got in the car and drove slowly – I now realize I was following Spirit -until I came to a place behind a box store where there were some trees and some shade where I could eat my breakfast sandwich.

As I pulled up to park under the trees, I was shocked to see a crow lying in the parking lot. It had obviously been recently hit as the blood pooling underneath the creature was still bright red. I was overcome with a full-on sense of time wrapping back upon itself somehow, and knew this was NOT an accident. I finished my snack, then used the bag the sandwich came in to pick the bird up and put it in the ivy growing under the trees  where I was parked. I apologized to the bird that I could not do more in the moment. It was better than leaving the bird lying on the pavement in the sun.

As I drove away to the appointment, I felt as if I were in two times at once, pondering the odds that I would 1) be in Tacoma, 2) go to the chiropractor while I was there, and 3) find a dead crow that needed my help. Again.

If I hadn’t thrown my back out, I would not have needed to drive to Tacoma. If I hadn’t arrived so early, I wouldn’t have had time to kill. If I hadn’t been hungry, I wouldn’t have stopped at the store, I would have waited in the office. If it hadn’t been such a nice day, I would have eaten the meal in the store. The timing was perfect, and I did follow the subtle current of energy that was gently leading me.

To the crow that gave its life so I could receive my message, I give thanks. And I will do my best to hear it so that your sacrifice is not wasted.

Since our waking life can be worked in the same way or sleep dreams can, I will share what I learn when I work this experience with my dream Teacher next month. Until then, thank you, brother Crow, for your constant companionship on my spiritual journey.

All original material posted to this site is (c)2016 -, Julia Marie. All rights reserved.

We do not create our destiny; we participate in its unfolding. Synchronicity works as a catalyst toward the working out of that destiny.                                         ~David Richo

Morning Coffee – It’s Story Time

I am in a story telling mood today, and perhaps that’s because I spent a week in the presence of someone who loves a good story. As an aside, I learned much about how to tell a better story. I have a lot of work to do. Hopefully, one cup of coffee will take you through this tale from my early days.

A Crow Funeral

I was reminded of this experience last week when crow and raven were so prevalent in the room during the workshop, so I thought I’d tell you about the first time I ever heard words from an animal. Add to this the sad fact the animal’s body was no longer breathing.

When I was first awakened, the things I experienced freaked me out some times. This was definitely one of those times, because I didn’t have the consciousness to perceive the wonder and beauty of what I encountered. That came later.

CrowbywaterI walked the same route to the Post Office every day. It gave me exercise, and some time outdoors to breathe fresh air, to feel the sun on my face, to smell the scents on the wind (although most times, that was car exhaust). This day, I noticed a crow lying dead by the curb in the gutter. I glanced over, and was startled when I clearly heard the words : “Pick me up.”

“EEEwwwwwww!” was my immediate response, then the thought came that I had just responded to a dead crow. I kept on walking, and ignored the pleas I heard on the return trip.

The next day, the crow was still there. I thought that by now, a cat or some other scavenger would have carried it off. No such luck. I now understand that it was for purpose that the crow’s body was still there, that something greater than ordinary consciousness was in play here. Again, I heard the crow (still dead, mind you) beseeching me to pick it up from the gutter. I heard additional reasons why I needed to take action: “I do not want to continue to lie here in the gutter. Please don’t leave me here in disgrace like a piece of refuse. I deserve a proper burial.”

I was all in at this point. What the heck, I was hearing a dead crow speak. Might as well answer. I mentally told the crow (still dead) that if it was still there in the morning (which would be the morning of the third day), I would do something about its plight.

The morning of the third day came. I walked to the Post Office. The crow was still there, and I swear I could feel a strong sense of “waiting” energy. Silence. No words in my head as I walked by. But I had made a promise, despite the fact that I’d made it to a dead crow. I do my best to keep my word.

I went back to the house after I picked up the mail and fetched some plastic bags and rubber gloves. I also located my collapsible shovel because there was no way I was just going to throw the crow in the trash. I now have the overwhelming impulse to give this crow a proper burial, and that would require digging a hole in my back yard somewhere.

crowsonabranchI gently placed the remains of the crow into the bag, and carried the body to my back yard. I figured at this point I might as well ask where it would like to be buried. I was totally surprised when it immediately responded by pointing my attention to a specific spot that would get both sun and shade throughout the day.

I dug the hole there, and rolled the body from the plastic bag into the waiting earth. I declare, I heard a sigh from this deceased crow as the body made contact with the dirt. And then I heard the most extraordinary thing. This crow told me I could take any part of its body as a gift for this act of kindness.

My immediate response was: “EEEwwwww! No, you keep it all.”

I didn’t know what an honor this was. I refused the gift.  No, you keep all your parts,  I thought. As I covered the bird up, blanketing the body with the earth I’d removed to make room for the crow, I suddenly became aware of a rustling, and some soft cawing from above and behind me. There were trees in my back yard. With the awareness came the sensation of a rush of goose bumps. (I didn’t recognize it as “Truth bumps” at the time, but now understand that is what they were.)

crowsinthetreesSlowly, I turned. Another wave of intense energy rolled through me as I gazed upon hundreds of crows gathered in the trees, like blue-black baubles amidst the verdant green of the leaves. It took my breath away, and I knew in that moment I was participating in a crow funeral. Literally. All these Crow Relations had come to say good-bye to their brother, their friend.

Weird, but I could feel their collective appreciation for the simple act I’d performed. I also had the sense I carried crow medicine now, despite my refusal to take any physical parts from the bird I’d buried.

It was many years later, and in a different state entirely, before I finally accepted the gift of Crow Medicine from the Crow Nation. But that is a story for another day.

Time to get busy. Now go out and have a wonder-filled day. I know I will.

All original material posted to this site is (c)2014, Julie Marie. All rights reserved.

An Epic Tale Begins – Background Story

Here comes the set up. I was guided through a series of synchronistic events to sign up for a workshop. For those of you who have been along for this ride since the beginning, you understand that how I live my life is by following the signs that Spirit so graciously lays out for me – for all of us, if we but take the time to read them.
You are also aware that, for the most part, I don’t do workshops. I prefer the direct revelation method of learning. It has served me well for over two decades, and much of what I have garnered through experience, I’ve shared here. Hopefully, I’ve encouraged you to harvest the ripened fruit of the experience by paying more attention to what is going on behind the curtain of the illusion you and I are currently dancing in.
What this recent experience taught me – and the insight  actually came from the layeredEinspaenner cup of coffee I chose for the Morning Coffee that set the stage for this adventure – is that not only are there varying levels of consciousness, there is the cup itself. As humans, we are capable of moving through the layers in the cup  by working on raising our vibration, and we are also capable of living from the perspective of the cup which includes all the layers as well as the cup.
Granted, I didn’t realize this was part of the training I took this past week (I was only living the layers), but I can see it now, and that means I can harvest more awareness from this writing exercise.
Anyway, back to the series of events that led to my richly rewarding experience. A student in one of the Intuitive Development classes asked me about dreams. I brushed the whole subject aside as I don’t remember most of my dreams, and frankly I am so much in the world of Spirit during the day, sleep brings a little break from that. (Or so I thought.)
At the end of the next series of classes, a different student inquired about dreams and dream interpretation as she wanted to help people using that as her platform. Once more, I said I don’t dream and referred her to someone who interprets dreams. It got me to thinking that there may be something for me to pay attention to as the requests had come so closely together.
The very next morning, I was awakened at 3:00 AM. This has been happening for almost a year now, ever since I first got the impulse to visit New York State last year. I even explored some possibilities, but none of them resonated with me so I left it alone. Since I couldn’t find a reason to make such a long trip, other than the fact that I was born in Rome, New York, I didn’t make any plans to visit there as it isn’t just a short car ride away for me. I let that part of the prompting go (free will choice and all) but waking out of a perfectly good sleep between 3:00 and 4:00 AM continued, so I learned to roll with it. I would usually just get up and start my day and then sleep in the late morning a few hours when I could, or go to bed early the next night when I couldn’t.

radioThis morning, I went downstairs and turned on the radio out of habit. It’s 3:45 AM by this point. I’d struggled for 45 minutes to go back to sleep before I finally gave up. The program that was on was Coast to Coast with George Noory, but the mellifluous tones that were emanating from the speaker belonged to someone else, and he was in the middle of a sentence that immediately had my full attention: “Well, if it were my dream,” he said and then proceeded to provide the person with some pretty insightful and helpful information.
I hadn’t a clue who it was, but I grabbed a pen and paper because I knew the name and contact information for the speaker would soon be forthcoming, especially since it was almost the end of the show. I took down the information, and immediately went to the website.

I’m not about to let the moss grow under my feet if there is an assignment from Spirit headed my way. That’s not my style. I perused the site, and found he led workshops. Since I was fully immersed in things of the star realm at the time (April 2014), and with Sirius in particular, I gravitated towards a workshop that had to do with that very thing. How synchronistic can you get?
I promptly purchased, and subsequently devoured, all of the books he’s written. I found some interesting “coincidences” in the material. I live my life looking for, and following the trail of, coincidence. He wrote a whole book about it.
Many years ago, I was drawn to explore shamanic drumming through the Harner Institute. He studied with them as well.
I believe we all already know the answer, we just don’t know that we know it. He teaches people how to mine their dreams for insight.
Nobody else can tell you what your experience is, nor should they. He teaches a way to share our insights about others’ experience that empowers them.
I signed myself and a friend up for the two-day workshop about Egypt and other things. I didn’t realize until later that the lodging I found for us was at a quaint Bed and Breakfast called The Library.  (Think “Akashic Records” and you will see the connection). Who says Spirit doesn’t have a sense of humor?
Now here’s the rub: that workshop isn’t until next weekend. The story I tell here is from a different workshop in another location led by the same facilitator that happened this past weekend. It was in upstate New York. It was five days, not two, so there was plenty of time for the energy to build, and be released. I am going to tell my story here. I will relate only my experience, and I am going to take a page from the new book of learning I am working with and refrain from any analysis as much as possible. “Just the facts, ma’am,” as Joe Friday the cop used to say.
The road is long here, with many a winding turn, and I don’t want to lose you before I’ve even begun, so we will start with the first day. For reasons I’m not able to share, as they are not part of my story, my daughter was along for this ride.
What you need to know about her is she is one of the most ‘connected’ individuals I know. When I need counsel about something important, I go to her. You wouldn’t know it by looking at her (she is deeply camouflaged), but she is a magical being. If you want the Truth, ask her a question. There are no filters there, and when she is in a helping mode, she will dig out the things that you most need to hear. It comes from a place of helpfulness, for she knows no other way.

The Story Begins

We made our way to the House of Healing (the building where the workshop would take place) and we each found our place in the circle. I liked that the room was set up in that way. I like working with people in a circle whenever I can, and I noticed there was a doorway, an opening, in the circle. This is important, as it allows the circle to breathe. It makes room for Spirit to enter, and for energy to flow out when needed. It helps to maintain the balance of energy in the circle.
That first day, I was drawn to sit on one side of the Gateway, or opening. My daughter chose a spot in one of the directional quadrants of the circle. I cannot properly orient you to the directions here, as the location is not familiar to me (I was among the trees in upstate New York) so I don’t know whether the Eastern Gate was the one that was open.
I am full of excitement and anticipation. I have longed to have a physically embodied  teacher for years, and was looking forward to this experience. Not that the meta-physical Masters who have provided my training are not appreciated, but sometimes it is helpful to be able to have conversations with a soul that is currently inhabiting a physical body as I am.
We open the circle with the flinging of a drum stick. My greatest fear is realized in that very moment: the drumstick has singled me out to go first. I am disoriented and confused, and it takes me a moment to collect myself. The thing I hate the most is to have the spotlight shone on me. It usually means trouble is coming, and that is not what I wanted for myself this week. I stand and gather myself together. Silence, then I speak the name of the body, which is how I will be identified for the time of the workshop.
An observation is made that, since I seem confused about my name, perhaps that is why the Universe is also confused. I will ponder this input, as I do all things, but the confusion and disorientation was a result of the darn drumstick drawing attention to me right out of the gate…and I think that pun is intentional!
I may have had trouble with my name, but I was very clear about my intention. I won’t go into something, especially something like this, without a clear intention. I want Spirit to understand what it is I want from the opportunity.
My experience has usually been that having others’ energy focused on me brings me only grief in some form or another, unless it happens in one-on-one situations, or smaller groups, or I am presenting something to people who have chosen to come and sit with me. Sometimes even then, there is challenge. I learned this past week that I tend to get nervous and naturally seem to put up a shield in such situations. This tactic is received in different ways by people.
I know I am a catalyst (a person or event that quickly causes change or action). There is nothing I can do about it, and I try not to take this personally, but dammit, it seems I am also human. (At least I am playing one on this stage right now.) Sometimes it’s difficult to separate myself from the experience. Sometimes, I do lose my focus. Let’s just say here that the catalyzing started almost immediately.
I also want to point out that I am looking at all of this in hindsight, that I have had some time to garner some awareness about what was going on. I will also admit that for most of the time, I was confused and spent most of my time begging to be shown the “Why” of all of this.
Remember what I’ve said before: The Universe does not waste energy. You will know what you need to know when you need to know it, and not one moment sooner. This awareness is what helped sustain me through what unfolded with magnificent and absolute perfection over the next few days, even when it didn’t feel so much like perfection when I was in it.

Enough for now. More to come.

The mood of the warrior who enters into the unknown is not one of sadness; on the contrary, (s)he’s joyful because (s)he feels humbled by (her) great fortune, confident that (her) Spirit is impeccable, and above all, fully aware of (her) efficiency. ~Don Juan Matus

All original material posted to this site is (c)2014, Julie Marie. All rights reserved.

Photo credits: http://www.mossacres.com photo gallery
Wikipedia

 

 

 

Right Place, Right Time

This is another woman’s story, but it bears repeating because it illustrates the point that if we listen – and sometimes even when we don’t – we end up right where we need to be.

omeletlgg2One morning, everything had gone wrong. The children were late for the school bus, she spilled coffee on her new white shirt, and breakfast was complete chaos. In an effort to make up for some lost minutes, and hoping to at least get to her workplace almost on time despite the harrowing start to her day, the woman chose to take an alternate route to work instead of her regular one hoping to avoid the worst of the traffic.

She almost made it to her job, but as she sat in her car at a stop sign barely two blocks from her destination, she was suddenly rear-ended. That did it. It was the last thing she needed, a fitting conclusion to an absolute nightmare of a morning commute.

When she jumped out of her car and headed back to see if the other driver was ok – and to give the person a piece of her mind, she saw a young mother wildly struggling to reach into the back seat where a small child sat strapped in a car seat.

“She’s choking!’ the young mother cried.

childincarseatThe woman was trained in the Heimlich maneuver because she worked at a preschool, so when she tore open the back door and found a little girl, eyes wide, and no sound coming from her throat, she followed the steps she’d been taught. Seconds later, a chunk of banana popped out of the little girl’s mouth and the child began to cry.

The young mother was weeping too, and thanked the woman for saving her child from choking while apologizing for the dented bumper.

The woman glanced at the child, looked at the young mother, and then at the wrinkled metal of her car.

‘It’s ok,’ she responded, ‘this is exactly where I was supposed to be this morning.’

A day that had started out with absolutely nothing going right turned into someone being exactly where they needed to be with the skill set that was needed at that exact moment.

A crunched bumper plus a stained shirt, some late for the school bus children, and an exasperated woman choosing an alternate route in order to make up some lost time, was the cost of putting this young mother’s ‘angel’ in the right place at the right time.

How can this be random chance? I say it is a beautiful example of the Divine Plan working exactly as it should. The spilled coffee, late children and burned breakfast might not have been necessary if the tardy woman was used to paying attention in the moment and took another route just because she ‘felt’ it was what she needed to do that day.

We become hypnotized by our routines, and it is difficult to break that trance, especially when we don’t know we are in one. When is the last time you allowed yourself to be ‘led’ by Spirit?

Everything…affects everything. ~Jay Asher

All original material posted to this site is (c)2014, Julie Marie. All rights reserved.

Photo Credits: Macomb CountyMI.gov/publichealth and Wikipedia