Last week I started to write about angels and then decided that I wasn't sure if I wanted to post it on our blog. But, I saved it thinking I would finish it and use it another time. I moved on to another subject... um, the animal cruelty/child endangerment piece...and while writing that, something amazing happened.
I think it would be best to let you read what I had started on last week, and then I'll fill you in on what I think was not a coincidence, but a sign. I truly believe it was a message from an angel.
First let me apologize for my absence. I am once again in Indiana and getting internet access is not as convenient as I would like. So, sorry I missed my movie and music picks, but I'm on it now.
I'm sitting in my mother's living room with my 13 year old niece and my 16 year old son. I am desperately trying to come up with a topic to blog about and drawing a blank, so I asked them if they had any suggestions. My son suggested angels. Great topic, for me anyway. I love angels. I collect them. My husband bought me a beautiful bracelet of angels that I never take off. There is something so comforting and powerful about them.
When I was 13, I moved in with my grandparents. My grandma was always very special to me and we became extremely close. She listened to the troubles of a teenage girl and seemed to always have the greatest advice. She was loving and caring and no one could ask for a better Grandmother. Sadly, she died the week before my 14th birthday. I was devastated. I remained living with my grandpa. Although my life seemed very empty without her, I always felt that she was watching over me. As a teenager, knowing she was always with me probably kept me from doing things I shouldn't. If ever I had to make a choice between what was right and what would surely be a lot of fun, but wrong, I would make the right choice. Most of the time anyway.
My grandmother has been gone for 30 years now, but I still can feel her every time I enter her old house. She is everywhere, but strongest in the kitchen and in her bedroom. Now, I know that people will say that my memories of her in those rooms are strongest and that's why it seems as if she is still there. But as I sit here and write this, the tears are streaming down my face as I think about the overwhelming feeling of her presence when I stand in her kitchen. I suppose it could just be that I miss her, but I choose to believe that she is my angel. That she watches not only over me, but over her entire family. I feel her with me every day.
There was a little more to it, but I've left it out because it involved an occurrence involving others in my family and I felt it is their story to tell.
So, anyway, I saved my work and started on the new subject. I don't have spell check on my laptop and needed to check my spelling on a word. I asked my mom if she had a dictionary and she said she thought she had a little red one around somewhere. While searching, she became excited over the book she had found.
She handed me a dictionary. A very, very old dictionary. She said, "This might be worth some money" and handed it to me. I carefully opened the cover and there inside, on the very first page, were two poems written in my grandmothers handwriting. I thought it was odd that I had just been writing about her but then I turned to the inside back cover and just about fell off of the couch.
There, written in pencil on the black cover so it was barely visible, was my handwriting. It said Hi, from Brenda... Hi, from Brenda. I quickly flipped through this old dictionary looking for anything else, but all I could find was Grandma in the front and me in the back. To me it was definitely a sign. It was her way of letting me know that she IS here. That she is with me always. Later that day we were going to stop by the cemetery and put flowers on my grandparents' and father's grave. While at the store trying to choose which bouquet of artificial flowers we should get, I noticed that the pink roses had something stuck in them. It was an angel. There were only two bouquets so we bought them both. I left an angel on my grandmother's grave and I took the other one and hung it in my car.
I believe in angels. No doubt about it. Of course now, I want to hear if any of you have had similar occurrences that you would like to share. I know B.J. does. Can't wait to hear!
And by the way, I wanted to share one of things that Grandma wrote in the dictionary. The clock of life is wound, but once.
Who are we? Six creative souls (five sisters and an honorary brother) who lead double lives. Join SIS Beth, Brenda, Barb, Brandy, BJ, and BRO Krys as we explore the chaos and wonders of life in pursuit of our dreams. For more info, check out our pics and bios at SIS Scoop!
"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, red wine in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming, "WOO HOO what a ride!"~~author unknown
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