Evidence of Divine Order

What a week! I was just working out on the recumbent stationary bike, making notes for my talk/workshop tomorrow, and realized last week, at the same time, I was in my brother-in-law’s car, leaving the Greensboro, NC, airport, to see my mother at the nursing facility in Thomasville before she made her transition. A lot has transpired since then! If you read the previous blog post, you know that Mom passed away April 10, but I want to tell you just a few of the many things that assured me that all was in Divine Order. I'm sure you remember that Mom was, amazingly and "coincidentally" placed in the bed that her best friend had died in the week before--as it turned out, Mom died in that bed, too. But there is more. (I won’t go into details on the visit, or my mom’s departure, but suffice to say I have an awesome family and it was as joyful as such an occasion could be. My mom was quite a woman and she left a legacy. For the next week, you can read her obit here.)

As I mentioned before in a previous entry, I was very clear that I needed to be highly attuned with my Spirit to align with Divine Timing in this situation. All I knew was that Mom was on her way out, but there was no way to know exactly when. It was especially important to me not to get caught up in the “shoulds” and the “oughts” and the feeling that I needed to make decisions based on other people’s opinions. Thankfully, I did not get any messages from my family that they expected me to do things a certain way, and, indeed, they made it very clear that the choice of when to come needed to be my decision alone. Dad even encouraged me to wait till she died before coming. From a practical standpoint, I knew that with my schedule, I needed to time things well so that I could be where I needed to be at all times. I checked in frequently with my guidance to see if it was time to go home, but not until Friday morning did I get a green light from Spirit to book a flight home to North Carolina.

I decided not to go into a frenzy and rush home—I knew that the best thing for all concerned was for me to do this calmly and in a way that gave me a chance of maintaining my strength and energy. I decided not to base my decision on trying to see Mom alive one more time, and beseeched her telepathically not to wait for me if it was time for her to go. So I booked my flight out for noon on Saturday. When it came time to choose when I’d return, I assumed Thursday, but when I checked that with my trusty dowsing rods, I got a “no.” Friday? No. I was starting to get concerned because I knew I’d need to rest before my Sunday workshop in Colorado Springs. Then I “heard” Wednesday. I was incredulous, but when I “rodded” on Wed., it was a definite “Yes.” While I’d like to say I immediately booked a Wed. afternoon return, I rechecked several times, and always got the affirmative for Wed. Mom wasn’t even gone yet. How in the world could this work out? But the risk was "only" $130—I knew I could extend my stay if need be, so I booked my return for Wednesday.

I got to spend 3-4 hours with her the night I arrived—and am so grateful I did. I think it would have been much harder if I had not seen her alive again, and I hope she knew I was there and that it comforted her a little. Based on what I observed that night, I didn’t think she’d be ready to depart for a couple of days, and felt sure I would need to extend my stay. She was, as was characteristic of Mom, fighting hard--and I could not tell whether it was fighting to stay--or fighting to go. It was hard to see, and all of us were praying for an easy, quick transition. The next morning, as I relaxed at the house and prepared to take a late shift with her, I sat and prayed for Great Spirit to absorb her, and then spoke to her (at a distance) to encourage her to let go to the perfection of Home—to relax and release and go to the Light. Just as I spoke the last words, the phone rang. It was Dad, telling me to come immediately. When I got there and saw her, I knew she had gone. She breathed her last just before I arrived. Within the hour, the funeral home representative was at the house and we had made all the arrangements. We all agreed to put things in motion and get it done as soon as possible for the benefit of all concerned—my flight schedule included, of course—but also because Mom would not have wanted us to drag it out. Her body was cremated 24 hours later, we had a visitation at the funeral home, the memorial service was Tuesday, and I was home in Denver by Wednesday night. Meantime, a spring blizzard hit Denver early Sunday morning, and the airport was shut down, with people stranded there and sleeping on the floor from all over the country. The roads were so bad, people from Denver could not even get home. If I had not gotten out of Denver when I did, I would have missed seeing her.

Backtracking a bit, when the minister from Mom's and Dad's church came over on Monday to plan the memorial service, he showed us some samples of covers for the program for her service. We didn’t like any of them, and knew Mom wouldn’t either. When the minister said that we could just use a simple Celtic cross, I got chills. I knew that was right. Some of you will understand/intuit why.

I was in charge of ordering a large flower arrangement for the front of the church, to be placed on a pedestal. I had the strong feeling that gladiolas needed to be in it, and my sister suggested lilies because Mom loved them. So I went to the florist and the wonderful, patient soul who owns it helped me come up with a plan. We were going to have pale pink glads, white Casablanca lilies, little white aster-like filler flowers with yellow centers, and pink roses, with lemon leaves, trailing ivy and gladiola greenery. I wanted it to be simple, elegant and joyful-looking. The floral supplier assured the florist over the phone that he could get her those flowers, and so I left, pleased with the selections, as were my sisters. The next morning, the florist called to say that the glads were not pale pink, the white lilies were not open, the filler was not open yet, either, and what should she do? I started trying to figure it out, and I suddenly knew I needed to completely turn it loose and trust. So I told her I trusted her to come up with just the right thing and she said, "Oh, bless you!" As we talked on the phone, I was looking out the front window at a hydrangea bush which was about to come into bloom and had the thought, “White hydrangeas sure would be nice—too bad they’re not in bloom.”

When we walked into the sanctuary and I saw the flowers, they were truly more beautiful than what we had originally planned. They were everything I had hoped for, even though not the exact varieties we had first chosen. Next to the exquiisite Stargazer Lilies, in front of the joyous spray of perfect pink glads, surrounded by happy white tulips, was a cluster of voluptuous white hydrangeas.

What a blessed occasion.