I go to mediums quite a bit. Mediums are people who can communicate with the dearly departed. I am taken when they come up with something they could never know, like a name.
There’s a medium named Yvonne O’Brien who comes to Horizon Center for Intuitive Awareness the last Saturday of every month. She has a group reading for $35, where she goes around the room and each person gets about a 10 minute connection with someone on the other side. Her skills interest me enough that I have been multiple times, alone and pretty much with everyone I know who is interested.
Sometimes the messages are grand and other times not so much. She’s talked to my aunt Lillie, whom I never met. She pulled her name out of the air, talked about her love of baking, and said she has communicated with my daughter, Jessie, who is now six.
There was a time where Jessie told me she did not want to go in her room because there was a family in there. A little girl and other people and they were scaring her. I didn’t think too much about it, but given my background with mediums and psychics, I didn’t dismiss it that she was not really seeing someone. I told her I didn’t think they were there to do her harm and she should just tell them that they are scaring her and to please go back to the light.
She was probably four when this was going on. She had always been fine going to sleep in her room with the light off, and suddenly she was not good with that anymore. She had to have a light on and most nights she came to my bed, scared. She actually still sleeps in my bed most nights and I haven’t the heart to give her the boot. Surely she will not be sleeping in my bed when she is in high school!
Last night, as Jessie was going to sleep in my bed, she was writing in her diary. It is a little book with a cat on the front. There is a small piece of metal with two rings on it where a little padlock fits in the rings to lock up her secrets. Only Jessie has the key. While I was reading Jessie decided to record the happenings of her day in camp in this diary.
I helped her spell some things – turtle, river, camp. She’s still a work in progress on spelling and secret keeping, so she says I can read her diary and so can her dad. But, not her brother.
As she finished writing about her day, she said, ”Look mom, I wrote this, I love Jennifer.”
But as I looked at it, I saw something amazing. It didn’t say, I love Jennifer. It said, I love Juanita.
Spelled perfectly. My grandmother’s name. My grandmother that passed away four years ago.
I told Jessie, “That’s not my name. Do you know whose name that is?”
“It’s my grandmother’s name. My grandmother was named, Juanita.”
No matter how many times I said Juanita, Jessie said, “Juanina,” and she said it like jua-ni-na – separate syllables – as if it was the strangest name she had ever heard. Because, I had never referred to my grandmother by name to her; only by “grandma.”
“How did you know how to spell that?” I asked.
“It was in the air,” she explained. “I was in the living room and someone was talking in the air and spelled it for me. They also told me I am getting so old.”
“Did this happen today?” I asked.
“No, I did it when I was five. You were napping and I was in the living room and there was someone talking to me and told me how to spell it. But I thought I was writing Jennifer.”
In the past, I sensed that Jessie was telling the truth about the people in her room. I believed Yvonne when she told me that Jessie was visited by Aunt Lillie. I believe. But something about this feels like such a gift. I spent my whole time walking the dogs this morning giving thanks that my grandma is well and still talking to us from her place in the cosmos.
It’s so funny how something can turn everything around. I feel lighter today.
Especially during the summer, I tend to get emotionally whacky with so much company day in and day out. Even the breaks don’t feel like breaks because they are nothing but stolen moments. It feels like I have to do something meaningful with the time because I may not get it again anytime soon.
I also tend to have chaos around anyway with my lifestyle. A prime example is last Saturday night.
This particular night culminated into me getting my king-sized bed all to myself. I was all alone, but far from lonely. I would say I was giddy with excitement.
Hubby decided to go out with friends, my son decided to have a sleep over with a neighbor, and I purposely bought my daughter an American Girl Doll movie to bribe her into her own bed. At 9:30, I was writing my dad an email from my phone, bragging about my heavenly situation where I was going to get my bed to myself. I read a book for a bit and turned out my light at 10 pm.
At 10:01, my dog jumped up and cuddled into the crook of my legs; that spot where she fits perfectly when I am on my side.
10:05, Jessie shuffles into my room to get in my bed; she and four of her favorite dolls. The dolls thankfully had a sleeping bag on the floor.
10:30, phone rings. My neighbor says my son wants to come home. I tap my Fitbit (my fitness and sleep monitor) out of sleep mode, get up and walk down to the neighbor’s house to walk him home. He says he’s sweaty, and his friend is making too much noise for him to sleep.
Back at home, I get in his bed, tap the Fitbit back into sleep mode, and close my eyes. I tell myself, Nathan’s bed is comfy, I can just sleep in here.
Only, then the dog, Joe Cocker, our cocker spaniel rescue, starts to bark. Hubby is still out and I guess Joe Cocker is missing him. I go back down stairs and put Joe in the office where he normally sleeps. He barks.
I get back up, put him in the basement where he usually hangs out with Hubby until bedtime. I close the door and go to my bed. Joe puts his mouth to the crack of the basement door and barks, with little howls in between.
Oh. My. Gawd. I think I am going to have a hissy fit! My heavenly night of sleep has been a nightmare from the time my light went out.
I doze off, there’s a dog barking in my dream.
1 am, Hubby comes home. The dog barks his greeting, which is just a continuation of the missing-Hubby bark because he never stopped that, and Hubby puts him in the office. He stops barking and I finally go to sleep.
6 am, Iris has the audacity to wake me up for her walk! I tell her I am sleeping longer and I pull her into a cuddle until 7.
I write about this night not for sympathy (ok, maybe a little sympathy for that night would be nice), but to say this is how life feels much of the time when I’m awake. It’s unpredictability to the max. Just when I think things are one way, that’s just not it. Still, I accept it whole heartedly as the life I have created and love.
And, I take grace and peace where I can get it. And last night, in between the chaos, I found grace, in the form of my grandma telling a little girl to write three words: I love Juanita.