For most of my life, I believed I was invincible, strong, and capable and in charge. Until that is, I realized I wasn’t any of those things. When did I become uncertain about anything? I started questioning everything until eventually, I found the clarity about life, specifically my life, that I was seeking.
Call it a spiritual awakening. Call it a homecoming. Call it woo-woo or wacky or a little bit out there. It took me some time to get comfortable in this world of thought, too. Throughout my discovery process, I was known to throw out my latest ah-hah moment to unsuspecting friends with this disclaimer: “I’m about to go all Shirley MacLain on you,” – who is one of the original queens of woo-woo, a personal hero, and someone I had the privilege of asking what her biggest bit of advice was for those of us newbies.
I have learned for myself, with no small amount of wonder and awe, just how magical the universe really is. The intricacies of manifestation. How to get the answers you need when you need them. The power of intuition. And if it hadn’t happened to me? I probably wouldn’t believe what I’m about to tell you.
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I was a skeptic wanting to believe. I had one foot on the ground with logic and analytics and the other in the clouds with wishes and miracles.
Hope. I just needed a shred of hope. It was hope that had been stolen from me. Or rather it leaked out of me slowly like a huge blimp in the sky with a pinhole so small no one could have ever noticed so that over the course of many years, the floating beast that was my once formerly happy self had completely deflated into a puddle on the ground. Without hope, despair sets in. That’s where I was at the end of my first big life crisis: a ten-year journey to have a child. I had laid down the drugs and the science, having given up on the medical solutions that had been dangled in front of me in shades of pink and blue and invisible markings that never did appear on a pregnancy test stick.
My body was battered, my emotional stability stripped raw and fragile, my marriage strained like a solid rope shredded to its very last tenuous thread. I had nothing to lose, so I called the psychic that had been recommended to me. I was a gambler rolling the dice with what just as well may have been our last $150. It felt like a reckless luxury of a bet.
Oh how little I understood about it all back then.
There were many important things that came out of this hour-long phone call, but the only one that mattered to me at the time was this: You will not be denied a child. She will come to you in the most unexpected ways. Like an answered prayer.
These were the words I clung to. More than clung – they became my oxygen. These words brought me out of a deep dark place and gave me back my hope.
It would be five years after that phone call that our adopted daughter was born right before our very eyes. And it was an answered prayer. And she did come to us in the most unexpected of ways. And yes, there was magic all around it in such a blatant, demonstrative way that I was awestruck unlike any other time in my life. (Truly it was magical. Read it here.)
Still, it would be many more years until I saw this monumental event for what it really was: a universal plan I had created manifesting right before my very eyes.