Everything happens for a reason . . .

Anyone who knows me well enough to say “Hi”, also knows that Ethel is odd. And they’re right in a way, for at times, I have odd things happen. But at the same time, I suspect what happens to me is just about what happens to you, too. We’re all the same, except I tend to talk or write about it all. And so, here goes.
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At times, since childhood, I’ve been aware of what others were thinking, who was going to give me a phone call, or now, it has happened with email, and sometimes I even know what they’re going to tell me. Nothing big, but as I say, it’s odd, and once I even told the caller what she’d called for, and we laughed, and I couldn’t convince her that someone else hadn’t already called and told me. See, that’s what I mean.

Before you cross me off your list as being  downright wiffy, hold on a moment. These happenings are not scheduled, or sought, but come hit or miss, and if I try to make them happen, (yeah, I’ve tried), I draw a blank. It doesn’t work that way.

But a few days ago one came that startled me, and so, I’m writing this column. See, Beverly Wheeler Mastrim, born at Wheeler Farm, life-long artist, and I, Ethel, produced a nice Coffee Table book. The words mine, the art work hers.

So, to continue, there’s a delivery man who comes to my door and we’ve become friends and I decided I would gift him with Bev’s and my book, “The Sunset of the Farmer”.

I autographed it, and wished Bev were here to do the same. But it’s become difficult for us to get together, and so, a day or so ago, when Bev came to my home for the first time in more than three years, we laughed and talked. However within a few moments the doorbell rang, and yes, it was that fellow, and so he not only joyously received the book, but with Beverly’s autograph, too. Nice.

The synchronicity of the three of us coming together within that 5-10 minute time-slot is unbelievable. I hadn’t spoken of my wish to anyone, but nevertheless, Beverly, the man, and Ethel all came together in the right place and time, as though it had been planned. Eerie.

Ok, here’s a more common experience. My husband, who died long ago as a fairly young man, appeared to me twice in the following few years, when I was alone, needing comfort, and he, non-verbally gave me reassurance that all would be well. And he was right.

Then one day an acquaintance, called from Denver and as we idly chatted about this and that, he casually included a bit of information I, with no results, (Google had yet to be invented)  had been searching for, to complete an article I was writing. It was really not important to our conversation, for the words were almost out of context, but I got goose bumps and wondered how the information I needed came so casually, and without asking. And I knew it was another time for me to silently thank my Unseen Helpers.

Once I felt the coming death of a young, healthy, and active girl of about ten or eleven years old. I tried to toss the thought away as just a result of my crazy mind, but just the same within days that young girl died suddenly from a car accident, How and why did I know? I have no idea for there was nothing I could do. It’s the only time such knowledge ever was mine, and I hope I will never experience it again.

And then, since childhood I’ve heard humming near me. As a child, I of course thought everyone heard it, but one day I mentioned it to my mother and she told me she hadn’t been singing, and didn’t know what I was talking about.  It doesn’t happen as often as when I was a child but once a glorious sunset brought it, and then one time it came as I saw moonlight on the pasture pond. (This was before   it became Mick Riley Golf Course)  and II heard it once with a group of meditators, where the humming was like a choir, and, then of all unlikely places, I’ve heard it twice in Murray Public library. I don’t hear it as often as I did as a child, and wonder if it’s because a child just enjoys and doesn’t try to analyze.

Odd? Yeah, I know, but I also bet ten-to-one, that you could match everyone of these happenings with those of your own. But for some reason, we hesitate to tell others. But I think we’re very normal and without knowing why or how, at times we’re able to use our Minds at a higher (deeper?) level. Exactly as our Minds are meant to be used. TYG.