"Intuition is more than knowledge, and truth comes pure from the heart." ~ Don Bradley
I feel the need to apologize because I have not always been listening to what you have to say. There have been times when you have had to resort to banging pots and pans just to get my attention and times when you placed so many signs in my path that it is a wonder that I didn't trip and break my neck.
I can be a little oblivious that way. My head so often in the clouds, so deep in thought or worry that I don't hear your whispers.
Sorry about that.
I am grateful to you for not giving up on getting through to me. Like the time when money was tight and I was reluctantly looking for a full time teaching position to augment my husband's salary. Do you remember? Our youngest was scheduled for open heart surgery that winter and my father was dying of cancer and every bone in my body was saying now is not the time and yet I kept interviewing.
Until, finally, I was offered a position and my gut began twisting inside out and my body was saying no, no, no, but out of a sense of obligation to my husband I responded yes. The next day I went in to set up my classroom, sat down at the desk and began to cry. A teacher walking by saw me and asked what was wrong and I just spilled out all my worries to this perfect stranger. And she said it's not to late to say no.
And so I did. And though it caused a
little lot of tension for a little long while, I found I could breathe again.
And six months later, on the day of our littlest one's surgery, my husband turned to me and said I was right to say no, that even he had not realized how much the anticipation of this moment had been weighing on him. On us.
Thank you, for clanging those pots and pans until you got through to me.
And of course there was that stretch of time six years ago when I felt something was wrong, really wrong, physically with me. A sense of unease, a nagging set of hard to describe symptoms that had my doctor flummoxed for nine months until finally I switched doctors and this new doctor set me on the path to discovery.
Every day I felt this unease. Every day a cardinal crossed my path, it's rich red feathers catching my eye as if to say, pay attention! When I tried to explain how I was feeling to others all I could say is I know my body and my body is not right.
Finally an arthritis specialist (can you imagine?) suggested that my body was fighting a tumor.
Turned out he was right. Tests showed a tumor, and a hysterectomy soon followed with the diagnosis of Ovarian Cancer. The good news? Because of your stubbornness I was diagnosed at Stage 1c. One recurrence and four years later I am still in remission.
The older I've grown the wiser I have become. I have learned to listen to your whispers. I have discovered that you are always speaking to me, through books, through music, through prayer. You leave signs for me, small breadcrumbs to follow along my path. I sit quietly and hear your guidance. I trust my gut, for I now know that it never lets me down.
Oh sure, I still trip up sometimes, especially when anxiety rears its ugly head and drowns out your voice. But I've learned the value of allowing myself to breathe, to pause during those moments of uncertainty. I've learned that I am my own best friend and you are my compass. I've learned to trust both of us.