And old pal refers to me as her Clairvoyant Friend.
I can’t begin got count the many times someone has popped into my thoughts with absolutely no rhyme or reason.
Often, if I don’t take some form of action like call the person, write a letter, or drop a quick electronic note, that feeling will repeat itself over and over.
Many times the person is someone whom I have lost contact with or am not in touch with on a regular basis.
When I do respond, I usually receive some response like this, “I really needed someone to talk to right now,” or “I’ve been having a difficult time recently.”
There have been two occasions where I wrote letters and didn’t hear anything for years.
The first was a young girl who worked for us and babysat our children.
She actually lived with us for a while, during a difficult period in her high school career.
Jill had everything going for her: an infectious personality, smart, outgoing, attractive.
But she also held onto a dark secret.
Her brother had molested her numerous times and she wanted out.
Some ten years after she graduated high school and moved on, thoughts of her crept into my mind often.
And then, just like that, her mother turns up at the school I worked out of.
I asked for the address and wrote.
Some two-plus years later, I received an overstuffed envelope in the mail.
Several pages from this young lady, who had gone on to marry and have two children of her own.
In that letter she explained that she hadn’t written back because she was experiencing a difficult time in her life, one where she had been confused and lonely and lost.
And she expressed how timely my words were…
The second time that comes to mind was a contact I made with one of our insurance agents.
She had gone to school with Warren, opened her own agency right out of school, worked her butt off, and then retired just before she turned forty so she could focus on her two young girls.
Her retirement notice sat in my To-Do pile for two years.
I thought several times about throwing it away, but didn’t.
I’m a staunch believer that it’s never too late to let someone know they’re appreciated.
I was excited for her when she ran for our local school board, and shocked and disappointed to find out, months later, that she hadn’t been voted into office.
We could use someone with her business sense on our panel.
In one week, her name came into my thoughts so many times you would have thought she was living with us.
It was during some menial office task that I finally acknowledged the prodding.
Alright already. I’ll take care of it now.
I dug through the stacks of papers on my desk, unsure if I’d ever given in to the call to dispose of the paper.
Alas, there it was.
I pulled out a note card that one of our historic parks sells and penned a quick message that went something like this:
“This might seem bizarre after so much time has passed, but I have had your retirement letter sitting on my desk since we received it. I just want you to know how much we appreciated all you did for us while you had your business… I also have to say that I was so happy when I saw you were running for the school board… I hope you’ll consider running in a future election because our district needs someone like you advocating for us…”
I never heard a word, but I never expected to.
Last year I served on a community panel that was established to help study potential changes to our schools.
Having been elected the year prior, this woman was also at the meetings.
After one session, she and I struck up a quick, casual conversation before heading to our vehicles.
“Do you remember that note you sent me?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I replied, “I hope you didn’t think I was whacked by sending something out so late.”
“You have no idea what that meant to me,” she said, “I was in a bad place when that note showed up in my mailbox. I actually had it sitting out on my dresser for over a year, and I’d look at it every single day.”
I was dumbstruck and humbled and thrilled.
Not only at the way our simplest gestures can make a huge impact on the world, one person at a time, but in the poetry that existed in the passage of this call to action.
A tiny little whisper that comes from…I don’t know where…from within me, and yet, transported via a universal energy that exists outside of me…
And now, this week, that force has whispered into my ear, placed its gentle touch upon me, again…
My office holds a fifty-fifty-type raffle every payday.
Twice a month we raise funds for local organizations like Children’s Miracle Network and the Arctic League.
My salary is deposited directly into our accounts and immediately goes out in the form of auto-pay drafts, so I pay little attention to The Day.
But I am always reminded when I walk into work and see a seller sitting in front of the wire basket filled with colored tickets.
Late last fall, I was making my early morning commute when this thought crossed my mind: Buy extra tickets, today. You’re going to win.
$48.75
I had one of those, Where the hell did that come from? moments, and I chuckled.
Firstly because I had to think about where I was going to encounter a raffle drawing, and again, when I realized what day it was.
I leave my purse locked in the trunk of my car and usually have to go back out to get money to make my purchase.
But that day, I made sure to take ten dollars in with me.
Heck, if nothing else, it’s going to a good cause.
I felt a bit silly pulling the orange stub from my pocket at the end of the day.
And I won’t deny the shock and awe and exhilaration when I realized I’d won.
I took a photo of the ticket taped to the winning envelope for a Happy Happens piece.
After numerous other joys took the topic lead, I finally deleted the image, figuring it was no longer relevant.
This past Wednesday, I ran to Sam’s Club for a few groceries, in between shifts.
As I left, I dropped the only two bucks I had into the neonatal incubator that is on display during every Children’s Miracle Network annual fund drive.
Not only do I contribute regularly to this cause, I’ve hosted numerous fundraisers to raise money for this group that supplied equipment that two of my sons needed shortly after birth.
Big Guy spent his first four, post-delivery days in NICU
You’ll be able to donate more when you win the fifty-fifty today.
Say WHAT?!
I keep re-learning to trust these instincts…
I’d failed to buy into any chances that morning, so I scrounged up four dollars to purchase six tickets.
At the end of the day I sort of chastised myself when both numbers written on the board had been claimed, and I tossed the losers into the trash.
Last night, as I left the building, I spotted two other sequences on the left side of the board.
One of which was still unclaimed.
One of which was still unclaimed.
Sure that the one number was mine, I went to the dumpster, pulled out the bag (thanking my lucky stars it was right inside the door) and rifled through it until I found the pieces I’d discarded.
Forty-eight dollars and seventy-five cents, folks…
Forty-eight dollars and seventy-five cents in that envelope…
Nearly twenty-five times the amount I’d dropped into that donation box…
Forty-eight dollars and seventy-five cents in that envelope…
Nearly twenty-five times the amount I’d dropped into that donation box…
It’s becoming harder and harder to deny The Voice Within…
What about you? Do you believe in The Voice within you? Do you heed its messages? Where have those whispers led you?
Hugs, Journeyer…