#003 Synchronicity at work

[About this story: I met an old acquaintance randomly, but later when I thought about it, I realised that the meeting was anything but chance. A two-minute read.]

Recognition was instantaneous and mutual. He was several years older, but as scruffy as ever. I was a little larger and a lot greyer. We hugged warmly in the hospital corridor.

I was an hour from home, and he had travelled half way across the country. I was leaving the hospital after visiting a friend, and he was supporting his father through surgery. He'd just returned from smoking in the car-park. A strange coincidence I thought at the time, meeting like that, especially as I had not intended being at the hospital today.

He asked me about my family and we chatted comfortably. His eyes glistened with unshed tears. He has beautiful eyes that generally speak of happiness, whilst masking pain. I've glimpsed just a fraction of the pain that dwells in his heart.

"I've always had a soft spot in my heart for you," I told him, with genuine fondness. He smiled that lovely smile, and I kissed his prickly cheek. He hugged me tightly, and then he was gone. The odour of cigarette smoke lingered. My cheek itched from the roughness of his seven-day stubble.

Alone later, I contemplated the meeting, realising that 'chance' played no part in the incident. It was much more than that. It was synchronicity at work; the Universe working magic, bringing the right people together at the right time.

The purpose of today's unlikely meeting is obvious to me; the Universe assigned me to be his Earth angel for those few moments, to lift him up and shine a light on his path so that he might find his way. This unscripted assignment was cultivated by Universal light energy to provide much needed guidance for a floundering soul, and although I wasn't aware of my role in his life at the time, I fulfilled my part by simply allowing my soul to direct me. By being myself.

I pictured the scene behind the waiting-room doors: his mother perfectly groomed as always, beautiful, but impatient with her adopted son's nature. He didn't fit the family mould like his biological brother. She would show her disapproval of his untimely laughter, his unkempt appearance, his stumbling for the right words. As always, he would feel inadequate and adopted.

His tears were probably his personal pain spilling over, rather than distress over his father's health crisis.

Unintentionally, I validated his worth with my words of praise, my expression of equality and encouragement. There are no coincidences. The Universe placed me on his path today because I was the right person for the task.

We probably won't cross paths again.

There are no coincidences . . .

We are always in the right place at the right time.

#002 The world rushes by

[About this story: my first car accident - people rush by without offering assistance and I wonder if this could really be happening. A two minute read.]

A crunching metallic sound shunted me sideways. Scraping metal, ripping plastic, shattering glass. Sound was my only sense functioning in that moment of inattention. Instinct veered my car off the highway into the service station drive-way and steered onto the footpath, coming to a surprisingly smooth stop. It was only then that I noticed the truck pull into the curb further down the road.

I sat behind the steering wheel, too shocked to move, too frightened to feel. A motorised scooter slowly negotiated the narrow gap between the undamaged side of my car and a concrete curb. The driver didn’t look at me slumped in my seat. He hurried on.

A young woman drove through the debris on the drive-way, and got out to fuel her car just a few metres away. Her eyes met mine briefly. Did she notice my tears? She hurried on.

Did anybody wonder why a damaged car, with a driver, was parked on the footpath?

My body felt weak, I couldn’t get out to survey the damage. The truck driver arrived, genuinely concerned for my well-being. “Yes, I think I’m okay. No, I won’t need an ambulance. Yes, I do have family to call. No, I don’t need coffee. Thank you.” I responded to his questions. His warm-hearted attention and gentle nature was a comfort in a world that was rushing by. He wandered off to check out his truck and make the necessary phone calls after he was satisfied that I was physically uninjured.

I sat in my car on the footpath, alone, for ten minutes. Motorists slowed down as they drove through the mess on the roadside, some stopped for fuel, and the rest motored on. The whole world rushed by. I considered the possibility of being trapped in a dream. My apparent invisibility seemed too unreal for the situation to be real.

A man knocked on the windscreen, and opened the door. He squatted beside me, and touched my hand. His hand was warm, his voice was kindly. His humanness touched my soul and a fresh trickle of tears dripped from my cheeks. He stayed with me until my daughter arrived. I can’t recall his face, and I don’t know his name, but I will always remember the warmth of his hand and the light in his heart.

My daughter dropped her children off at school, and came to my aid. She hugged me and I finally felt safe. The police and fieries turned up and did their respective jobs. I apologised to the truck driver, and he hugged me warmly. My daughter took me home. My car was taken away.

That was yesterday. Today I am alone with my thoughts. The voice in my head shouts at me, admonishes me. I tell it to shut up, but I am practised enough to be aware that it’s impossible to win an argument with the repetitive, know-all chatter in my head when I am emotionally compromised. The commentary goes on and on, cursing and blaming.

I settle myself comfortably in the late winter sun, calming the inner storm. I am human, and I make mistakes. The Universe gives me struggles that contain lessons vital to my growth. I raise my head and speak to the sky: “I am grateful for my life lessons, thank you.”

Ahh, the sunshine is warm and comforting.

Do not ignore the lessons in

your struggles and suffering,

PAIN can be your greatest TEACHER

      

#001 A different path

[About this story: We were prepared for retirement, planning to move from the Hunter Valley to settle in the semi-arid north-west of NSW, when we made a sudden change of plans. A two-minute read]

Sister Cottage just happened out of the blue, a combination of love, trust and vision.

As my sister and I tended to our ageing and ailing parents, we redeveloped our relationship that had flagged somewhat over the years for no particular reason. Our bond to each other instantaneously deepened and became firm.

Mum lay dying, barely recognisable but for her beautiful silver hair, thick and healthy, framing her gaunt face. Her needs were tended to by dedicated palliative-care staff. Fresh nightwear daily, her body always clean and fresh, her skin massaged with moisturiser, fingernails clipped. She was cared for as if she was merely out of sorts for a short time, not unconscious and dying. It was such a comfort to see that our mother, a humble little old pensioner who had lost her sensibilities due to the cruelty of dementia, and who was so dear to us, was being treated like royalty as her body gave up life.

Her favourite music played softly in her room, the curtains partly drawn for some light and fresh air, tea and coffee-making facilities in the room in readiness for her loved ones. Whatever time of day or night my sister and I visited our dear mother, her hair was freshly brushed and her teddy tucked under her arm.

Mum was a feisty lady, and didn't give up easily. My sister and I said our heartbreaking final goodbyes twice a day for a whole week, till she finally slipped away. Our husbands were there every night to comfort us. Then we buried her with Dad, who we had buried only a few months prior.

My sister and I had been through so much together, sharing the burden, comforting and encouraging each other, working and relaxing together, crying and laughing together. We were both sad to go our separate ways.

Three years previously, my husband and I had purchased a house in a little town in north-western New South Wales where we planned to retire, leaving the Hunter Valley where we had lived most of our married life. We renovated the house and established a garden, integrated into the welcoming community, established interests, and were excited about moving there upon retirement in a few years time. The surrounding bush called to us to satisfy our desire to be amongst nature.

But sentiments changed after my parents died; I wanted to live my golden years near my sister, to continue to be an everyday part of her life.  After considerable thought, I put the idea to my husband, and he warmed to it immediately. I mentioned our tentative plans to my sister and her husband, and they were over-joyed. They offered to help us get organised any way that they could.

Little did I know, however, just what extent they were happily prepared to go to also have that close-at-hand relationship. She and her husband offered to allow us to build a home in their backyard (a 9-acre rural property in south-east Queensland). The four of us discussed pros and cons of the proposal, and we accepted their generous offer.

From there, preparations for the establishment of Sister Cottage and our life of shared occupation began, with genuine and lasting excitement brimming from all.

The construction on our little house began late December 2014

ABOUT ME . . . .

At the time of starting this blog (2014), I am 57, married to Grahame (for 39 years), have a son and daughter, and 7 grandchildren (from 3 years to 13 years). I grew up in the Hunter Valley (NSW) and have lived most of my married life there.

Throughout my life I have developed a love of nature and the outdoors, and of simple living. My hobbies are writing, photography, nature study, gardening and craft. I am not religious, but am deeply spiritual. My family and friends are extremely important to me. I appreciate regular moments of solitude. I love learning. Interacting with nature is a regular and vital part of my life. I am grateful for my blessings and lessons.

On this blog I will share my short stories. Writing is not only an interest for me, but therapeutic. By sharing my writing, I hope I can not only engage readers, but provide food for thought.

My husband and I are moving to Maryborough, Qld, to retire.

Read about why we made the big move, unexpectedly, HERE.

Gaye (2014) - I love to write