If You Believe............

The last couple of months, I have found myself thinking a lot about faith. Not religion, but faith, hope, spirituality or grace. Call it what you will. I've always considered myself a spiritual person. Again, not religious - but spiritual. I believe in fate and destiny; that everything happens for a reason; everything serves a purpose.

My whole family believes in the spiritual world, that passed loved ones can visit you after they die. My sister is constantly seeing or hearing things in her house. It's become normal for them. My Grandfather passed away in November. Recently my Mom and my oldest sister both believe to have been visited by him.

A couple of weeks ago, I fell into a slump. No, not a slump, but a chasm. I was stressing out about pretty much everything. In other words, I went to a dark place. When you're in a dark place, you become irrational. Your thoughts and feelings are so extremely negative and self-deprecating. Even paranoid at times. When you are there, it feels like you will never get out. Joy and optimism are only memories. You try to appear happy, going through the motions for others - your kids, husband, friends, etc... You wouldn't want them to know just how low you are.

One night, while shadowed by my own personal rain cloud, I felt very alone. Jason and the kids were in bed asleep. It's amazing how worse one can feel in the middle of the night. I was in self-hating mode, something I haven't been in a long, long time. It's not a pleasant experience. As I lay there crying on the couch, I thought about Grandad and how he had visited other members of my family. But not me,......or at least not to my knowledge. I thought of Sherry and all the spirits she has pass through her home on a regular basis. (Again I must stress how irrational I was.) I then questioned why I had none?

Why can't I see dead people?

It makes me laugh hysterically now, this ludricous question. I must say, in the light of day I am very much ok being ghost-free. But at that moment, in the middle of the night, I felt like I was such a horrible person that no one, or no spirit, would come near me. It just goes to show how silly you can get when you're stressing yourself out and going on no sleep.

Then I watched an interview on Good Morning America about grace. Author Cheryl Richardson was talking about her new book The unmistakable Touch of Grace. She said that believing is a choice. You can choose to believe that everything that happens to us is random, just a bunch of coincidences. Or you can choose to believe in grace. For instance, if you are debating about changing jobs and moving to LA, and suddenly a brochure for California appears in your mailbox. You can say "what a coincidence!" or you can take it as a sign of grace. You don't drop everything and move to LA, but maybe you plan a trip to check it out. She said that once you make the decision to believe, you will notice signs all around you. There was even a little prayer she said you could say out loud..........So for fun I said it.

I am open and receptive to the power of grace in my life now. I ask to be shown clear examples of how this energy is operating in my life.

This past Monday morning, I had an early doctor's appointment. It was an amazing morning. The sky was blue, the sun was shining, birds were singing. You knew that it was only a matter of time before Spring. I was driving down the highway by myself, listening to the radio and thinking. I was thinking about many things. About the kids starting school in the Fall. When we would finally build a house. What kind of house would it be. Me going back to work and where. Abby starting school. If Jason would always have his current job. I suddenly had this overwhelming feeling that everything was going to be ok. That we were going to be fine. That we were going to have it all. The song playing on the radio was Don't Give Up by Roch Voisine. I thought, what an appropiate song for how I was feeling. In the distance, there was a car. As I got closer and closer to the car ahead of me, I saw it. Clear as the sky. The word GRACE written on it's license plate. Tears literally came to my eyes. Coincidence? I don't think so.

Then as I continued to follow grace down the highway and across the bridge, I smelled something. It was unmistakable. It was Grandad. My Grandfather had his own personal smell. No, it wasn't b.o. But more like the musty smell of a barn or horses mixed with his cologne or aftershave. The smell was so familiar. I thought, here is my chance. I can choose to believe that it's coming from some unknown source somewhere, or that it's Grandad, checking up on me. I chose the later.

I chose to believe.