Unless I tell a story, I have trouble explaining the interaction I have with “my friends in high places” since I neither see or hear them. After years of experiences (20 to be exact) I have “learned” that I’m receiving either “help” or direction. Today is the anniversary of my father’s passing. My mother and brother passed when I was four, but my mother was so good at working behind the scenes that I was unaware of her help.
Yesterday I headed for the bank to deposit some checks, transfer some money. On the way I met Henry, a 10 month old Lab. He was extremely excited when he saw me, so much so that his walker asked if we had met before. I didn’t know what to say, finally admitting that I walk to a different drummer, have both two footed and four footed friends in high places — some of them might be with me now. Dogs are more attuned to energy and Henry might have picked up on their presence.
At the bank, I overheard a man telling the clerk that his wife was allergic to penicillin and had trouble with the medication they use for surgery. Since I have the same issues, I took the opportunity to talk with him. During the conversation I learned many things. His father passed over last March. Since they knew he was passing his daughter had the opportunity to mend some fences. His father was very active in their Catholic church, and many more details. I mentioned that if he needed his father’s help, he was there — he just needed to be aware. I mentioned that I walk to a different drummer, often received “help” from the other side and gave some examples. Recently my pedometer stopped working. It clipped onto my pants and had been falling off on a very regular basis for some time. I had been forewarned. I had been given the opportunity to investigate various other means of tracking my steps. I still used my old pedometer. IT STOPPED WORKING! No choice — buy a new pedometer or buy a gadget that I could wear on my wrist.
He seemed skeptical. So I asked him how he could explain my being at the bank at the same time he was, and overhearing his conversation. Maybe it was so I could pass on the message that his father was behind the scenes — “helping.”