Massive Amount of Maternal Energy

     When I awoke yesterday morning, I knew it was going to be a good day. For my belated birthday gift, I would be spending time with my oldest daughter and my granddaughter at a mother/daughter brunch and attending a performance of The Nutcracker ballet. The day began with an unexpected early morning phone call from my aunt in Germany, my mother's only sibling and my last remaining close relative on my mother's side. She still lives on the property where she and my mother were born and where their mother had lived from the time she married until she died. Our infrequent communication consists of a card and perhaps one letter a year, with an occasional phone call every year or two. She was calling with Christmas greetings and to catch up on the goings on of our family.
     An hour after I hung up, I left the house, adorned with the ring and gold bracelet I had inherited from my mother (both of which had been her mother's before that). I had consciously chosen these two pieces to emphasize the multi-generational maternal connection for this particular outing. When I arrived at my daughter's home to pick up the two of them, she told me that I'd never believe what she just found and handed me my mother's drivers license! She had noticed it earlier that morning on the floor amongst the shoes in her closet (around the time I was on the phone with my aunt). It had not been there when she had sorted through the shoe area a short time ago, but now there it was - lying in wait and in full sight. She couldn't even recall ever having it in her possession and thought the only connection might have been that after my mother's death, she may have taken it with her after looking through her Oma's personal items. My mother died in 2002 and my daughter has moved at least a half dozen times since then - uncanny.
     After settling in at the restaurant, while awaiting our meal, I pulled out a tiny notebook enclosed in cello wrapping from my purse, entitled "Great Games: classic pen and pencil games for two players". I had no idea what the inside of the book looked like but the title and cover was promising. I had purchased it early last summer, thinking it might come in handy with the grandchildren while awaiting a ferry or a meal in a restaurant and had been carrying it around unopened in my purse since then. After tearing off the cello wrap, I flipped through the wordless booklet and found it was filled with three versions of patterned pages: 1) graph paper, 2) evenly spaced dots arranged vertically and horizontally, and 3) miniature hexagons. Upon seeing the dotted sheets, I instantly thought of my mother - she used to play the game of Dots and Boxes on this kind of paper with my young children but I had completely forgotten about it until now. I then showed the page to my daughter, asked her who this reminded her of, and she instantly replied, "Oma".
     After enjoying the highly entertaining Nutcracker Ballet, we made our way down to the lobby where I decided to check the time and saw it was 3:15pm. In Germany, which is nine hours ahead, it was already quarter after midnight on December 10th - my Oma's birthday!
     A massive amount of maternal energy appearing over the course of a few hours, connecting my maternal grandmother, my mother, myself, my daughter, and my granddaughter.  A truly unforgettable day in this blessed life of mine.
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Unequivocal Response

Early yesterday morning, receiving an unexpected phone call from a close friend.  Describing the occurrence of an incredible metaphysical event at her home.  Involving the surprise appearance of a photograph of my son.  A portrait of him in his graduation gown.  Waiting for her to discover upon waking.  Lying face up under the dining room table.  This photo not one that had been out anywhere on display.  Her living alone, without any pets, removing any doubt of it mistakenly arriving there. This act designed to get her full attention.  Only two days after appealing for communication from Michael.  Sharing a close bond since his birth, but left without contact since his passing.  Open to the concept of communication with spirit.  Never imagining it presenting itself this clearly.  Asking with sincerity and open heart.  Impressively rewarded with an unequivocal response.  

Urge to Call

Find myself longing to talk with my daughters more often.  Phone conversations every few days.  Meeting up weekly if possible.  Craving that ongoing connection.  Even more so than before.  In part, to counter my sense of vulnerability.  Of loss.  While reflecting on my recent phone conversations with them, the urge to call my son came on with great intensity.  The desire to speak with him as I could when he had a physical presence.  To ask about his week.  Touching base.  Longing for the banter.  Grateful for the new style of communication we do have, but often missing the old.

Unforgettable Phone Calls

It was a winter afternoon in late January 1966, when the telephone rang.  My nine year old self was in our kitchen showing my mother some of the 'treasures' I had purchased earlier that day at my school's White Elephant Sale.  As I was walking into the living room to answer it, I told my mother that this was going to be someone calling to tell us that Canada Oma had died.  ( My two German grandmothers were distinguished by the country they lived in, with my paternal grandmother here, and Deutschland Oma still in Germany).  Sure enough, it was my uncle calling from Peace River, to inform us that his mother had passed away there in her sleep.  She had not been seriously ill and was only 62 years of age so this was not something we had been expecting.  That is my first memory of connection to spirit and I believe that it is from her that I inherited my ability to 'see' and know the other.  Fast forward to the call I received a few weeks ago, just before 2pm on March 7th.  My husband called me on my cell and without any preamble asked me where I was. I told him I was at home and all he said was, "Wait there, I'll be home in ten minutes," and hung up. In that moment I knew that my son was dead.  I walked out into the backyard, stood in the sunshine with my eyes closed and from deep within I asked the Universe to please give me the strength to endure what lay before me.