I had the most incredible thing happen this morning. The timing no accident as I just returned home from an intensive beautiful retreat where my heart and soul were cracked wide open. I can feel things I couldn’t feel before, it’s overwhelming and overtakes me at times. It makes me weep because it’s almost like its too much emotion to feel at once. I can’t think of a time in my life when my emotions, the feel good, open, loving type were so open, raw and vulnerable.
I’ve known for a long time, many years that I’m here living this life to be of service to others. I know it’s what I’m supposed to do and it feels very comfortable. I’ve always done my best to follow my heart in showing up where I’m supposed to, to give and be of service where it calls me, without question. I think sometimes I’ve even showed up to help where I wasn’t wanted or needed the pull is so strong in me. Oops! For those times, I’m sorry.
Because of what I learned about myself this last week, I know I’m supposed to share this story with you, though it’s super scary and vulnerable for me to do so. I afraid you won’t like me, that you’ll think I’m “a little out there,” or that you’ll judge me and reject me. I’ve had lots of that sort of stuff show up in my life in the past, so it’s easy to talk myself in to it happening again. It’s easy to want to keep myself hidden and secret to avoid the pain of rejection. But, I’m going to power though my own discomfort and share what I’m afraid to.
It was made crystal clear to me over the last week that I’m a story teller and that my stories give people hope. The stories of all the things I’ve overcome and learned along the way help others to find hope in knowing they too will be okay, that “it” will be okay. If I can do it, recover from it, overcome it, so can you. It seems I have a gift I’m supposed to share, which makes me nervous. My mother and father named me Hope (Nadine/Nadia in Russia) without even knowing it and I’m now clear that I help people find hope with my stories.
I’m not sure if this story is for you, I just know I’m supposed to tell it. If you read this story and know it’s for someone else, please pass it along. It must be meant for them. This happened to me because I’m in a place to see and experience it, I have the gift of writing and telling stories, but it wasn’t meant for me, it was just meant for me experience it and share it.
My husband lost his father to cancer one month ago. He’s still incredibly raw and sad about it and he talks about how he misses his father all the time. His father Larry, was a good man. He shared so much wisdom in many conversations I had with him. He always seemed to have a simple, wisdom filled, practical answer to any dilemma. The number of people he served with his wisdom is not measurable. He lived a life of service.
One of my husband’s favorite pieces of wisdom his father left with him is the question his father would ask him when things in life seemed the absolute worst “Have you ever not been okay?” And, if you really look hard at the question, you haven’t. There’s never been a time when you weren’t okay. I’m not discounting the times you thought you weren’t okay, when you were hurting or had been hurt by someone else. I’m reminding you that you’re here reading this right now, so you must be okay and you must have always been okay. You’re here. I’m here and we are okay to spite the pains of our pasts. To spite our losses and our grief. The only moment you have is the one you are in and you are okay in this moment.
Knowing the sadness we are experiencing due to the loss of my father in law, my friend Anna sent the most thoughtful, meaningful gift I think our family could ever receive. She sent us a beautiful wind chime. I couldn’t believe how touched I was by what it represented to me, immediately.
My 15 year old daughter and I had literally just had a conversation about the wind chimes I have in back yard five minutes prior to me opening that box! We were in the backyard, hanging out, catching up and we talked about how beautiful they sound when the wind gently blows through them. We were both tuned in to, and noticing how pretty and gentle the sounds were. Then I opened that box!
When I showed the chime to my husband, he was so touched, he cried with gratitude at the kindness of the gift. He was so appreciative. I immediately went to show my girls and they too loved it. My 15 year old was kind of suprised at the coincidence following our conversation. My 12 year old wanted to get it hung up and making music immediately. She insisted we hang it next to the angle wings, I agreed.
I took a seat to admire the beautiful wind chime and listen to its music, to take it all in with my open heart following my retreat. What I heard when I sat in silence is what I’m supposed to share with you if you’ve lost someone you love.
My heart races with extra energy, only now as I’m writing just this part… Because I can feel the importance of it.
Because you cannot see the wind, it doesn’t mean it’s not blowing by. Because you cannot see the wind, doesn’t mean you can’t feel the wind. Because you cannot see the wind, doesn’t mean you cannot hear the wind. Because you don’t see the wind, doesn’t mean you don’t experience the wind. Because you cannot see the wind doesn’t mean it’s not there, it only means you can’t physically see it when it blows by. You don’t see the wind, you experience the wind.
You don’t see your loved one with your eyes once they leave the physical packaging they had while they were here, but they’re not gone, you get to experience them differently, like you experience the wind.
When my aunt Sylvia left this earth, I felt tremendous loss, she was my spiritual guide, my mentor, my teacher, my connection to myself as she taught me about connecting to me and being me. She’s with me every day, I see her, I feel her, I hear her, I experience her presence all the time because she is here, just like the wind. I experience her spirit, I hear her words and her wisdom in my mind, her voice so gentle and kind. The photos of her around the house remind me of her physical appearance and the deep love I have for her, which lives on almost 16 years following her death. My love for her is the same, I just experience it and feel it differently. The same holds true for you if and when you tune in to experiencing your loved one when you want them near. Bodies are packaging for the soul you couldn’t physically see when they were living and breathing. When you have a true connection with someone, you don’t see it, it’s not something you can touch or feel, you experience the connection. It’s not physical, it’s spiritual.
The universe hadn’t stopped speaking to me when I went back inside where my husband was. I had shared with him my thoughts and experience with the chimes. I reminded him that his dad was like the wind, always present. I think he wanted to believe me. It all came full circle and the message came through loud and clear over his stereo speaker when I questioned if the music he has just put on was random or had he specifically picked the song because of our conversation. I was not at all suprised to hear that song playing was random, because it wasn’t and I knew it was meant for him to hear at that specific moment in time. The universe, what I call God letting him know that his dad is always present. The song playing on the speaker was Dust In The Wind. It was as if the universe was screaming the message. I believe there are no coincidences, everything is always as it should be, the timing always perfect.
If this was meant for you, I hope it helps you to experience your loved one in a different way. That it brings you peace in knowing they are still there.
If it feels right, get yourself a wind chime to help you remember, to be able to hear the wind you cannot see as it sings to you. Listen for the one that feels it’s meant for you when you shop for it. Follow your intuition, it knows the way. If it feels right, send someone who’s grieving a wind chime and share this story with them so they know. Maybe it’s meant for them. I’m not sure. I only know I was supposed to share my experience to give you hope that you will be okay, that you are okay and that your loved one is always present, even though you can’t see physically them.
Much love and many blessings…