Years ago, when I was in the process of falling in love with TOD’s dad, things were purely magical. Oftentimes, out of nowhere, I would be surrounded by the most beautiful aroma of fresh flowers. It was quite lovely. And I had a psychic tell me that my dad was trying to contact me. In an effort to let me know that everything was okay, he was sending me flowers. I don’t know what your beliefs are, but at that point in my life I felt as if I was truly being given a gift.
And now, for the past week, I again have been smelling flowers. Honeysuckle, to be exact. I don’t know how I know it’s honeysuckle; I just know that it’s honeysuckle. And again, it’s quite lovely.
I have to admit that things are starting to look up. I have been offered a wonderful position at work, full of opportunity and promise. I am looking forward to it. In fact, it’s as if the dream I had for myself 21 years ago is finally being realized. And fulfilled dreams are quite lovely.
Perhaps what’s even a bit lovelier is the fact that I can sit here and be filled with a sense of peace and knowing that it’s all part of The Plan. I had a talk with my Lord two weeks ago. I just laid it all out there: I was being attacked by what was seemingly the devil because I was negative, mean, belligerent…the list seemed to go on and on. And I asked that something move in my heart to help me get back to where I needed to be.
And then the flowers began arriving…
Every once in a while I get to this point. Every once in awhile I just know that I am exactly where I’m supposed to be. And it’s usually at those points that everything seems to be turned on its head, a test of my spirit, perhaps.
Take, for instance, that our van caught on fire last night. I was calm, even after lifting the hood and being met by flames. I was so calm, in fact, that the guy I asked to bring a fire extinguisher didn’t really believe me.
I was also calm enough to return to the van several times to retrieve things while waiting on the fire extinguisher and/or the fire department, whichever came first. I just knew without a doubt that everything was going to be alright.
As TOD repeatedly asked how we were going to get to church, camps, and work, I was able to calmly place my hand on top of her head and tell her that I refused to worry because I was going to take that time to thank God for allowing us all to be safe, for the van not exploding, and for the friend that drove quite a distance to pick us up. I was thankful for the people in the restaurant. I was thankful for the firemen. I was thankful for the man who repeatedly stopped by our table and offered us a ride home. I was just grateful.
But I am no saint.
I went to bed early this morning and was filled with thoughts of what we had left in the van that was being ransacked through as I lie in bed miles and miles away with no way of stopping it from happening. (The windows were down in the van and couldn’t be rolled up because of the electrical fire.)
This morning I awoke with a very stiff neck and shoulders. I imagine the stress had taken its toll of me physically when I finally fell asleep. And I awoke with all of Grace’s worries in my head. Exactly how are we going to get to all the places we need to go? I don’t know. I still don’t know.
And then I’m one of those people who try to find the reason in everything. Exactly what was the reason for the van catching fire in a different state? Was it to keep me from going to church tomorrow where the Christian Motorcycle Club was going to testify and preach? I have been making jokes all week that my soul mate was probably going to be there, dressed in leather and a Harley tee.
The reason….
And what was the reason for the American sperm donor’s mom calling to tell me that he had told her that he had gotten mad and quit his job and moving back down there. “Down there” is where I am heading with the girls in less than two weeks. She said that he was probably jealous because we were going to be there. Jealous? I don’t see how that would even be an option. But spiteful? Spiteful would fit the bill.
She’s paying for our trip, and I had to tell her that I would not ride 14 ½ hours with him. I didn’t want him around my daughters. My opinion is that if he can’t have anything to do with them when he lives 10 minutes away then he doesn’t need to think that he can play the role of daddy when we travel that far away. The truth is, I don’t know what it would do to my girls to not only have to leave after a wonderfully relaxing and nice vacation, but to have to drive away from their grandma and their dad.
However, just as I had wished that he would leave long before he did, I have wished that he would just move back down there so I wouldn’t have to encounter him when it was least expected. *Thinking I should start wishing to win the lottery*
The thought of him being down there when we were bothered me far more than the loss of the van. And I hate that.
But I’m still alright. Some people mistake my sense of well-being for unhealthy detachment. I see it as a gift. A gift filled with flowers and an unexplainable assurance that everything is going according to The Plan.