Listening Up↑

Have you ever had an experience that made you realize we are all probably just one conversation away from something really powerful?  That if we just listen for the Holy Spirit's direction, amazing things can happen? In the book, I write much about the Holy Spirit's involvement during Daniel's life, and it never ceases to amaze me when I am blessed with one of those moments.

Which happened last night.

Let me back up to yesterday afternoon. I took Madi over to my friend Carrie's house to play with her girls. Carrie told me that she was planning to go to a special reconciliation Mass last night. So I spontaneously invited myself to go with her (we're tight like that).

She picked me up promptly at 6:30, and we headed over to the church. When we arrived, the parking lot appeared empty, but we didn't question it. As we approached the church, we saw a well put-together looking lady with a cheerful smile and a warm aura about her. She asked if we were there for the Mass, and we introduced ourselves. Her name was Erin.

Erin seemed distressed, to say the least. She indicated, through our conversation, that she was having a really difficult time finding a faith community in her area that shared her same beliefs and convictions. Erin said she's in desperate need of spiritual guidance, and that God is calling her to do something, but she continues to hit road blocks. In fact, this was the second time Erin had driven to our area from her residence, which was about forty-five minutes away. And ironically enough, that last time was when Hurricane Wilma hit. Mass had been canceled then, and we began to have the feeling that Mass was canceled, once again, due to our area's severe weather.  Carrie tried calling someone who would know more, but there was no answer.

As we stood there perplexed, I said to them both, "Well then, there must be a reason that we are here tonight."

I knew immediately that Carrie would be able to put her in touch with some people who could help with her spiritual guidance. Then, Erin asked us if we knew her friends who were supposed to meet her there. She described them as a local family with nine children. Who had lost a son.

I was stunned. I asked questions about her friend's son and his death. Upon hearing the story, I just couldn't resist, and I gave her my card about With an Open Heart.

I divulged that I, too, had lost a son.

Now it was Erin who looked stunned. As she took the card from my hand, she revealed that she had also lost a son.

Our eyes filled with tears, and we hugged. We began to realize that perhaps it was no accident that the three of us were standing there alone in that parking lot.

She told us the beautiful story of her baby boy, who was born missing a part of his brain. The way Erin described her sweet, precious child, we knew that he was nothing short of a miracle. She and her family gave him nine months of unconditional love before he went to Heaven. And he died nine times in her arms before he passed.  She claims to have seen Christ many times throughout her son's life, and her story has led to numerous conversions.

Awesome.

Erin then spoke of her desire to start a Catholic palliative care program for babies. A program that would send sick babies on their way to Heaven knowing the power and the touch of love before their departure.

Sign me up.  Perhaps I've just discovered something I'm supposed to do in Daniel's memory.

We stood there talking for about thirty minutes--and in our "severe" weather--we received not a drop of rain.  Until, of course, I pointed out that God had spared us from the rain, so that we could converse. Almost immediately after my statement, the skies opened up, and it began to rain.  Carrie and I said our goodbyes to Erin and promised to keep in touch.

As Carrie and I drove away--in sheer awe--her phone rang. It was the woman she'd tried to call earlier returning her call.

Mass hadn't been canceled at all. It had taken place on Wednesday. The three of us were there together on the wrong night.

What are the chances?  No accidents...

To be continued.