By Marilyn Stacy
Several years ago I discovered that when we need help, it is available from angels and spirit, and we find their gifts just by paying attention. By noticing. Twice within a year I received unexpected and surprising messages - gifts of synchronicity - that gave me reassurance and comfort ast a time I most needed them. Both events centered around my mother.
After Dad passed away, she suffered a series of small strokes that triggered the onset of Alzheimer's disease. She worried a lot about making mistakes. I tried to reassure her, but it was difficult to alleviate her anxiety. She began to have trouble manipulating anything mechanical or technical, even her stove, telephone, and door locks. She was often confused and forgetful. We all (my brothers and my husband) agreed it was best to move her from Illinois to Dallas, where she would have full-time care at a nursing home. Although I had a busy counseling practice, I would be able to visit her daily.
Over the years she lost her ability to walk and the use of one hand, then the other. It was disheartening to watch her steady decline, and to be able to do so little for her. Mother became depressed about her inability to do anything for herself or for others, and I was growing depressed myself.
One Saturday afternoon I attended a lecture-discussion about the connection between science and spirit. Afterward, the guest speaker, a young psychic, told me he could see that I was a caring person with a great deal of empathy, but that this was becoming a problem - that I was taking on other people's negative emotions. He was right. Besides my worry about Mom, I seemed to have forgotten how to leave my clients' problems at the office. The young man said that I would soon hear something that would help me if I listened.
When I nodded, he repeated, "Really listen."
I nodded again. "I will."
A short time later I left, got into my car to drive to the nursing home, and turned on the radio. I heard a man's voice say, "Now listen to this."
That got my attention! Then a song, one I'd never heard before, filled the car. "If I Could," by Regina Belle, related, in a powerful way, the message that we can't remove another's pain by taking it on ourselves. I felt lighter, less burdened, and I thought the song had been a wonderful gift from my angel.
"Thank you!" I said. Glancing at the radio dial, I made a mental note to tune in to that station again.
The next afternoon, on the way to see Mom, I thought about how sad and worried I'd been the day before, and how the coincidence of hearing the word "listen" from the young man at the meeting, then again in the car, focused my attention fully on the beautiful song that had calmed my troubled emotions. Even if it hadn't been played especially for me, I thought, it had been a wonderful coincidence. Then I turned the radio on, and was jolted by the beginning notes of "If I Could." The healing music filled the car once more. I laughed out loud: "OK, I get it."
On the way home I stopped at a store and bought the CD, so I could not only listen to the song whenever I wanted, but also share it with others. A few days later a new station occupied that spot on the dial. The other station was gone, right after I received a message I needed to hear - twice. That experience helped me cope with my concern for Mom.
But a year later, as her condition worsened, it was hard for her to respond to the simplest questions or even to speak at all. Mother almost seemed to be disappearing, bit by bit. I was already grieving. I prayed for help. Not long after, a friend brought to my attention an A.R.E. (Association for Research and Enlightenment) research project on synchronicity. I decided to participate. I listened to the tapes and for three weeks wrote down any coincidences I noticed. I was stunned to see how many there were. It seemed as if every time I thought of getting in touch with someone, they would call immediately - a few of the callers were people I had not talked to in months. Coincidences popped up on the radio, TV, in the mail,- everywhere.
When I finished the study, I filled out the requested report and put it in an envelope for mailing. A week later it was still on my desk. I thought there must be a reason I had not yet sent it, and I left it there.
The next morning, I took a long walk, the whole time thinking about Mom's decline, pondering whether there was anything more we, her family, could do to help her. She had nearly lost the ability to communicate verbally. I finally admitted to myself that our relationship would never again be as it had been. I always treasured her wisdom and the example she set. Now she had to struggle to express even her most basic needs. She'd spent her whole life giving to others. It was time for us to take care of her. I had not, in word or actions, expressed my hope that she might, even briefly, be "herself" again, we were so tuned in to each other emotionally and spiritually, I knew she could feel how much I missed her "old" self. I let go. It left me feeling sad, but strangely relieved. Mother would sense this release of my need, and it would help her. Later that day, driving to work, I noticed a bank ad on a large billboard. It said "Success Is the Journey. Not the Destination." Ten minutes later, walking down the hall to my office, I nearly ran into the open door of a supply closet. Inside, facing me, was a trash can with a bumper sticker across the front proclaiming: "Success Is in the Journey, Not the Destination." Interesting coincidence, I thought. A couple of hours later, when a client told me about changes he wanted to make in his life, I said that I was reminded of a saying.
He interrupted. "Yes. Something like Success is not the destination, but the journey."
"You saw that bumper sticker too!"
"No." He didn't know what I was talking about. He had seen neither the bumper sticker nor the bank ad. He said, "I've been thinking about the importance of appreciating and learning from the struggles in life's journey, not wishing them away." Mere coincidence, I thought.
Driving home that evening, I shifted my thoughts to dinner, and the paperwork I wanted to get done. When I walked into the kitchen, I dropped my purse and briefcase on the table, then noticed several pieces of notebook paper on the edge of the counter. Even without my reading glasses I recognized Mother's Palmer Method handwriting. Since she hadn't been able to read or write for some time as a result of the strokes, nor had she ever lived in our home, I wondered where the scraps of paper had come from. They hadn't been there that morning. When I asked my husband later, he couldn't explain it either. I dug my glasses out of my purse, and saw four pages of notes, each written a month apart, 12 years earlier. The first page, dated December 5, riveted my attention.
Mom began: "Thoughts while sitting, waiting in the dentist's chair: There is a plaque on the wall that reads, 'Dental health, like success, is not a destination but a continuous journey.' I like to be observant of my sourroundings."
I was shocked and thrilled. Each page was special. The second, dated January 1, described a bit of her childhood. "I wake up this morning thinking of New Year's day at home. Happy New Year was the good word of the morning. Everyone wanted to be first saying it. We had a small house but it was full of everyone talking - noise. I now wonder at the patience of my parents. Mother was always interested in all of the chatter. You had to talk loud and fast to be heard. One thing, life was never dull."
Reading this gave me a warm feeling about what a long, loving life Mom had. The third page, dated February 7, began like a journal entry, but at the end it seemed like a letter, as if Mom knew I would be reading it someday.
"Today we received a beautiful book that Marilyn wrote. Such pride and joy Dad and I felt, reminiscing about our daughter's birth, growth, and development. I remember the day she was born. It was hot as blazes. Dr. Hurd and his wife were at the theater and you were in a hurry to be born. The nurse told me to hold my breath! Wait for the doctor! When he arrived he rolled up his sleeves and said everything is all right. That's all I remember till I saw you. You were beautiful."
Finally, on March 10, Mom's birthday, she wrote: "I'm 73 years old and am wondering where the time went. My wish is for health and the courage to grow old gracerfully and happiness for all our dear family. Our children are our pride and joy and their children are so precious."
The message I received that day, over and over, about the importance of our journey, was so unusual, such an amazing coincidence, that it made Mother's notes even more meaningful to me. Because of the synchronicity project I had just completed, I had been paying more attention than usual to coincidences. I added a few lines to the A.R.E. report and dropped it in the mail.
When I read those notes Mom had written 12 years earlier, I learned that I can always benefit from her wisdom. Even after her death, at the age of 89, her love, blessings, and guidance continue to flow. Now, any time I feel anxious, worried, or discouraged, I remind myself to pay attention, to observe my surroundings. Gifts of serendipity from spirits and angels are all around us, waiting to be noticed.
VENTURE INWARD January/February 2003