INTUITION: A DRAMATIC RESCUE
Whether we call it "listening to our gut" or "following a hunch," most of us are aware of intuition: that small, still voice inside that points toward positive choices and warns us when something is wrong. Sometimes what our intuition tells us agrees with the known facts; at other times it flies in the face of all that is logical, but when we follow it, our lives flow with surprising smoothness. We can also use this same inner knowing for the benefit of others.
Late one Friday night I closed the book I was reading and started down the hall toward the bedroom. On a hunch, I turned back to the den and picked up the phone to check for messages. My counseling clients have a special number to call when they're in crisis (a service that locates me immediately) so there was really no need for me to check. I was surprised to hear Patti L's voice. She had come to my office a few times with her husband, Bill, a client who suffered from a chronic pain condition and struggled with anger, depression, and guilt about past wrongdoings. His new job required him to travel, so I had not seen either of them in weeks.
The message Patti had left an hour earlier was simple: to call her. She sounded calm, and ordinarily I would have waited until morning to return the call, but "something" told me not to wait. I dialed the number. After several rings, Bill picked up the phone. I said I was returning Patti's call and asked to talk to her.
Bill said, "She's gone." His voice was slurred. He added, "The police just pulled into the yard. I guess that's why you called."
My heart lurched. I asked why the police were there, and when he didn't resond to my question, muttering something about the neighbors probably calling the police, I asked where Patti and the boys were.
He started to cry. It was hard to understand his words over the sobs. "I did a terrible thing. I was drinking. I was jealous and got mad at Patti. I accused her of liking another man. I know that's crazy. She yelled at me and we got in a big fight. I took out my guns and started shooting up the house and garage. They're gone now. It's all my fault." His sobbing grew louder.
Trying to stay calm, I asked again where his wife and sons were. He finally responded, saying they were probably at her Mom's. He said her folks would take care of them, that they were all better off without him. "I've done it this time. I can't fix it now."
Although I was relieved that Patti and their two young sons weren't in the house, I was still concerned. Bill was in despair. I suspected he was about to walk out the door carrying a gun, to force the police to shoot and kill him--"suicide by police." My intuition took over. I did not consciously plan what to say. I reminded Bill that I had called at the exact time the police cars pulled up.
"That is weird," he said. "I just walked inside from shooting up the garage. I wouldn't have heard the phone from out there. In another minute I'd have been going out the front door with a gun in my hand. Wouldn't hear any more phones then." Sobbing again, he said, "It's too late. I really screwed up. Patti must hate me now. It's all over."
I told him it was not over. I told him again that I had called at just the right moment.
"And you didn't know what was going on here?" He was confused, momentarily deflected from the script in his mind--his plan to end everything because he couldn't forgive himself and live with what he had done.
I reminded Bill of his belief in God, and said there was no way I could have known exactly when to call him, that God must have wanted me to tell him not to let himself be killed.
"Maybe you're right. You called. And you're probably the only person I'd listen to." He let out a shuddering sigh. "I'm so tired. I don't know what to do. I guess they do though." He was referring to the policemen in his front yard.
"They do." I asked Bill to do exactly what I told him. When he said he would, I asked if he had a gun in his hand. He said he'd put it down when he answered the phone, but that there 15 or 20 guns lying around the room. I told him not to pick up a gun and not to hang up the phone. I asked if the porch light was on and when he said yes, I told him to leave it on, to keep his empty hands up and in front of him when he opened the door and walked out, so the police could see them. "They don't want to shoot you."
"I know. They'll probably take me to jail. That's all right. Maybe I can get some rest," he said. "I'm ready."
"When you have a chance, tell one of the police officers that your counselor is on the phone and would like to talk with him," I said. Then I told Bill to put the phone down, open the front door, and let the police take over. There was a clunk as he set the phone on the table. After an impossibly long silence, a calm voice came on the line.
"This is Officer Lorenz." The crisis was over. Bill would be all right.
The police took him to the emergency room at the hospital. Bill told me later that if I hadn't called at exactly that time, he was sure he wouldn't be alive. He and his wife continue to work on their problems, and are doing well. Both of them believe my call was the result of God's interevention.
The results of following one's intuition aren't always as dramatic as they were that Friday night, but when we do pay attention, and tune in to others' needs, we are more likely to be able to help them. That night, before I driften into sleep, I thanked God and his angels, grateful that I had listened to that small, still voice inside.
The above is a condensed version of an article first
published in Venture Inward, an A.R.E. publication.
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