I was talking with a friend yesterday about that “sense of
timing” that I wrote about a few posts ago.
You know those moments when something kind of falls into place at an
unexpected time that makes you think of your guardian angels, or a past memory
of someone now crossed over, or a feeling of not being alone in that “special”
wrinkle in time….even if it’s about someone you’ve never met.
I had one of those moments today….but strangely enough….it
was almost expected.
The back story is that I like to leave the store when I take
my lunch breaks. Over the years I have
found numerous places close by to sit and relax and listen to some music or
read. I’m always on the look-out though
for new places to spend a half hour or so mid-day.
If you’re familiar with this blog you know that cemeteries
do not intimidate me…from the “spooky” sense that many people attribute to them. On the other hand I have found that they can be some of the most peaceful places on this earth. Even if you know no one there….there is
always something or someone to relate to.
It’s quiet….and if you let your instincts carry you, you never know what
you may stumble across that adds even more to that humbling moment of time.
Earlier this week I pulled into a cemetery close to the
store during my lunch break, I had never been there before. There was a
tear drop shaped drive that circled the property. As I drove this road and looked around that
sense of calm that we often need during a bustling day came over me. Some of the plots were above ground
encasements and as I made the far turn I noticed a white mausoleum plot…it
stood out as the rest were of darker shades of grey, brown or black. The forest was bordering the tear drop cemetery
road out the passenger side and there were various markers and encasements
between the road and the forest with the rest of the property out the driver’s
window. This individual mausoleum
bordered the forest.
The white encasement had a concrete bench for visitors to
sit….and contemplate their surroundings.
Then I saw the picture and the inscription. This was Owen and he passed over at two-and-a-half
years old; a beautiful child with striking curly blond hair and a glimmer in
his eyes. Over the years small toys had
been left…there were several toy planes, sea shells, trucks and a tractor
pulling a trailer with a horse in the back. I sat at the bench for a bit, cleaned up the
plot and dusted the cob webs off the mausoleum…but I couldn’t help but keep
looking at that picture and trying to find some kind of answer as to how this
child had been taken from his family at such a young age. There were no other plots close by, so an
accident involving the parents seemed unlikely.
But, I didn’t let the unknown distract me. I rearranged the toys a bit….said a little
prayer for a little boy…and left one of my own trinkets in the horse
trailer. About that time a funeral
procession came in with numerous cars…so I wiped the tears, got back in the
truck and went back to the store. That
was five days ago…and then there was today.
There’s a parking spot in the grass just before Owen's
encasement. Today I parked and sat at
the bench for a bit…curious if my token was still there…which it was. The pink flower I put on the back of the
mausoleum had blown off. So I put it up
front with the other toys and trinkets.
I decided to play a little music so I got in the truck and moved up to
Owen's site. A friend had given me a
CD of a local band to check out so I put that in. One of the tracks is a cover for Willie Nelson’s
“Seven Spanish Angels”. Now nobody does
it like Willie, but this was a good version, so I enjoyed the peace of the day and
played a little harmonica for Owen.
Seven Angels has a story behind it…if you’re not familiar…check it out.
So the song ends and I look up and there’s a white car
entering the tear drop shaped cemetery road.
I start the truck and slowly drive away and I notice the CD player isn’t
playing the next track. I switch to
radio….nothing. No display, no power to
it at all. I turn it on and off a few times, nothing. Now I’m at the end of the tear drop where it
merges into a divided entrance….I stop the truck…turn it on and off a couple
times…no tunes. I get the manual out and
locate the fuse box….but I need a nut driver to access it, so I start the truck
up and drive on….and the CD won’t even eject.
And yes this was that wrinkle in time that I referred to at the
beginning of this story. I was not
spooked by this, rather I knew it was another one of those “special moments”
that I have had in the past and know you most likely have too. Of all the times for my radio to stop working…right
after visiting Owen and playing Seven Angels.
Now this radio has done this a few times in the past but it
has always come back on after turning it off and back on…not this time. I drove about five minutes to Target to get
something and to be honest with you it was at that point that I knew that radio
was going to work when I got back out to the parking lot. And sure enough when I started the truck…the
radio was on and working fine.
With all the overtones in a post like this I can’t help but
think about what my friend and I talked about.
How it is strange that we don’t share some of the special moments we
experience in our lives with each other more. I struggle with sharing an experience like
this, hoping I’m communicating effectively.
If you believe in your faith as I
do….then you know moments like these make us appreciate the entire world around
us…the seen and the unseen...and look for the wholesome spiritual messages they
may contain.
So I ask myself what is the message the angels are trying to
tell me here. The obvious answer is that
Owen was communicating to me thru my broken radio. Now you tell somebody that and they might
think you’re a bit looney tune….and that’s why we don’t share these private
moments more often.
But I’ve had almost a full day now to think about my lunch
break with Owen and what other meanings there could be out there. I play the harmonica and my ears are critical
to hearing the music and the tones. I
need to take care of them to make sure they work effectively. I also feel I need to get more involved with
some local musicians if I ever want to really get better at the harp. I’m not getting any younger….and neither are
you. So the secondary messages I take
from this is God...and Owen... telling me the music…and your life…can stop at any second. On any given day at any given moment you may
stop working and no matter how often you try to restart…you just can’t open
your eyes and breeth.
As I sit here and listen to the closing of Live in Concert
on 95.7 FM featuring Pink Floyd….I am inspired to find a way to follow my
dreams and get a message of faith out there to those that need it most. I hope the next time you experience a wrinkle
in time you don’t brush it off. Think
about it and try to find the hidden meanings as to why what just happened…happened,
just don’t consume yourself with it or you may find yourself in an endless cylindrical cycle.
Remember that reality
and spirituality are the same….to those that have true faith. Don’t be ashamed of your experiences, cherish
them and share them…when you feel the time is right. Hopefully that time will be before it’s too
late for you to realize your full potential as one of God’s children.
Reflections: Isaiah
61…Ezekiel 43:1-12…Matthew 7…2nd Thessalonians 3
Have a special
Son Day. 2nd Kings 6: 8-23
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