'Seeing' Dad
Updated: Jan 28, 2022
As I walk through my favorite park, I reflect on all that has happened in the last month. While I can't deny the experiences I've had, especially those when pieces of evidence came to me of things I never knew, it is still so hard to really trust. I wonder how much is 'real,' what is my imagination, and what is a combination of the two? I ask Dad silently for a sign right at that moment to let me know what I've been experiencing, all of it, is 'real.' I ask him to send me a deer at that moment or another animal that wouldn't be common to see at that time. I hear in my own voice, "I have something special." But no deer or special animal appears.
Within a few minutes, as I continue my walk and head back toward the car, I begin to 'see' my Dad with me among the trees along the path. I of course don't see a real physical form in front of me, but it's as if my mind is seeing him everywhere along the path as I walk and observe. In this mind's eye image, he's wearing an orange sweatshirt, jeans, and his leather vest he often wore when riding his Harley. These images come with the sense, "I'm always here when you need it," but I'm wondering if this is all of my imagination. I admit I'm a bit disappointed that I didn't get exactly what I asked for - a deer or other uncommon animal to see at that time.
I finally reach my car, get in, and do what many of us do after being without our phone for some time- check social media. I gasp! In the very first post on my newsfeed, my
aunt has just posted a video of herself riding a Harley for the first time, with my dad. In the video, he's wearing the orange sweatshirt and black leather vest that I had just seen him wearing as I 'saw' him in the forest along the path of my walk. Indeed, he had something special for me as he said. It seems as though I'm ever more growing in wonder of just what's possible when our heart is open to receiving the unimaginable.
Nature's Way is beautiful. Read on and be inspired by the journey. The way is through the heart.
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