Monthly Archives: November 2013

A Twice in a Lifetime Opportunity


Are some of us truly more blessed than others? Do we hold some special favor in the heart of God? Some higher position in the cosmic consciousness? I don’t believe that…

As I’ve mentioned in past missives here, people have told me for decades that I am living a charmed life; I have often wondered what they meant by that. It seems to be true in some ways, and yet, like everyone, I manage to ignore that fact for long periods of time and make astronomical screw-ups which I then defend –  and further spend copious amounts of time wending my way free of!

As a young child I was clairvoyant. I had no idea what that was; I’m not sure I understand it even now. But I had an uncanny awareness of the near future. I would often dream of the people and places of the next few days. I would meet people who I had met in last night’s dream, and then greet them with familiarity – or speak some detail of their life they never would have shared with better friends. Needless to say, my narrating the upcoming day from the perspective of the car’s booster seat proved a bit disconcerting to my young parents. Waking them at two a.m. screaming that I was dead and I could hear the angels was even less endearing.

Aside, let me just say: Never tell a psychic they have a gift. We are all born this way, of that I am sure. Any adult with this ability still intact has lived through hell as a child. By it’s very nature, this so-called “gift” is very isolating. You learn to keep your mouth shut. Were that naive child not already living a very lonely and isolated existence, I’m sure that inner knowing would subside, could it be willed away.

However, survived into adulthood, it turns out this IS a gift of great magnitude, but not for the reasons you think…not because you can tell others their future. The future is not given us to know for a reason. The mystery of discovering our common future is how we evolve our consciousness toward our mutual enlightenment – it’s how we learn to be happy and get the heck out of our own way.

This gift – the gift of KNOWING rather than believing – that there is an invisible reality playing itself out here on the face of this planet, as well as in the heavens- is priceless. Yes, there are heavens. I have roamed them. Yes, there is also a hell; I’ve met it’s demons face to face. They’re intimidating. Having had no formal religious training, I was nevertheless well prepared. Don’t try to tell me there isn’t a God. I won’t think you a fool, just sadly uninformed.

But  today I have another story to share. It is again about my Mother, my own personal Mary Poppins. She died ten years ago. (I haven’t recovered yet – I’ll keep you posted.) Meanwhile, a few months later, I happened to meet the owner of an art gallery. I happened to need a job, and she happened to need an employee. And so, our ten year friendship began…her name is Marion.

Marion is another Mary Poppins. I know – hard to believe my good fortune. Two in one lifetime. Only in hindsight do I get to have the perspective of seeing the workings of divine intervention. I’ve had glimpses – like the RAYHOPE experience (see my post of August 21st, 2013.) Truth be told, I am astonishingly blessed with several friends who have saved my ass – I mean life – more times than I’d care to review. Coincidence? You don’t still believe in those, do you? (If so, see my post of  August 21st, 2013.)

Well, a couple of weeks ago, Marion bought me a house. Suffice it to say, it’s a long story that got us both to that magical day. And, yes, I will buy the house back from her…but, with my house under contract and no set closing date, we “happened” upon the perfect home for me. It was a deal that would not last long on the market, and was generating second viewings 3 days into it’s listing. She insisted that God told her to do this, and scooped it up so I wouldn’t lose it. If there is one thing I have learned from Marion, it is that when God speaks, you act. She trusts that inner knowing like no one I have met before. She is my friend, my chosen family; I live so charmed and blessed.

The next morning I woke in an altered state. And as often happens, knowing came over me as a wave of heat and nerves. And the memories fell one into the other, like dominoes perfectly aligned. This was my Mother’s doing. (My Mother doing God’s bidding.) Not just the house. The entire ten years. Meeting Marion. The job, the friendships, the failed marriage, the deaths, the healings. All of it. I burst into tears. It’s a hard phenomenon to explain to anyone who doesn’t consciously remember these experiences (we all have them.) But I knew. My life is divinely ordered.

Mary Poppins is family to me. It’s no coincidence this movie is coming out December 20th. I’ll be at the theater. It’s no coincidence that it stars my favorite actress; it’s no coincidence that she’s the spitting image of my young mother, Doris.

To Marion, and all the Good Witches who bless my life; you don’t know what you mean to me.


One Day…


Oh how very, very blessed I am feeling today…a quiet day cooking at home with my son, Steven. We put Playing for Change on the radio as we snack on deviled eggs and prepare our Thanksgiving feast: Roast turkey, baked sweet potatoes, wild rice, steamed broccoli and carrots, a big, bold salad full of olives and avocado, cranberry sauce, and on and on…almost too much. We talk about how fortunate we are. Steven is ten years a survivor of Hodgkins Lymphoma. Most members of our family have survived cancer; we have all survived generations of physical, sexual and mental abuse, and most every addiction known. Steven gets to count today as one successful day without a cigarette.

We are alone today because our family is widespread across the Midwest and south to Florida, with friends around the country…I am estranged from a sister, but spoke to my niece at their house. They are eating well despite the hardships. My father, alive eight years out from a terminal diagnosis, is having too much food with my brother.  The same is true for my other siblings…

Today my heart is overwhelmed with gratitude. I hope yours is, too. My dogs get gravy on their food tonight. I shovel snow to get out to fill the suet cages and watch the patient woodpeckers fly in. I pray for grace for all those displaced and hungry who aren’t enjoying our bounty. I am thankful to all of the soldiers willing to put their own lives aside for this privilege, even as I pray that we soon find another way to coexist on this shrinking planet.

For Steven. Thanks, Babe. I love you.

“Lay down your arms, and come without defense into the quiet place where Heaven’s peace holds all things still at last. Lay down all thoughts of danger and of fear. Lay down the cruel sword of judgement you hold against your own throat, and put aside the withering assaults with which you seek to hide your holiness.” -A Course in Miracles

A House with a Sense of Humor…yes.


For Turkey Day, I thought I’d share a dining room tour with P. Allen Smith. It is the home of the artist Rebecca Thompson, whose studio I featured yesterday. There are so many design elements I admire and ascribe to, especially the personal touches that delight the senses…home is, after all, heaven for beginners.

Listen to the details that this design genius points out; I always learn from him. Enjoy your dining today…XO

A Physical Representaion of Her Soul


Where do I begin to talk about this creative genius? Again, one of my guilty pleasures (which I never actually feel guilty about) is watching the You Tube channel ehow home of P. Allen Smith. I have never had the privilege of meeting this man, but I love him nonetheless…

He has about two hundred educational videos posted, and they comprise a “how-to” for home life. Many of them don’t interest me. I don’t plan on raising chickens or ducks, but there are so many great ideas. What a fabulous way to spend a snowy morning.

Here he showcases an artist’s studio, a subject I’ve been threatening to feature in my blog for months now. So, let’s get started with this, but do yourself a favor and click over to You Tube and watch more of his wonderful videos! You’ll be glad you did…

Living In Art


One of my favorite guilty pleasures is the Canadian shelter magazine House and Home. Lucky for us, they also boast a television program available online at as well as a YouTube channel…(insert THANK GOD for technology here.)

This morning, watching some of the hundreds of videos available, I came across this terrific illustration of living in your artwork, and how dramatically it can effect the space around you…enjoy the next five minutes, and then, go play house…

The fourth vignette makes MY heart skip a beat…which is your favorite?

A Walk in the Park


It is eight o’clock in the morning, and I have been up for two and a half hours. Pretty typical these days, and I find that I love the wee small hours. I am loving my sweet little life right now…quiet and serene…just me and my dogs and my imaginings. Upon waking I slip on jeans, boots (yes, we have ice and snow here now), a coat and head straight out the door with the dogs. The wind blows and the crystals sting me in the face as I head into the dark, flashlight in hand.

Last night I showed pictures of my new home-to-be to a friend. When she saw the beautiful park across the street with willow trees hanging over the river, I explained that this is where we will walk every day. She said, “Perhaps that’s the name of your new house, A Walk in the Park!”

Being a creature of contrast, I was immediately reminded that the house I am selling and leaving has never had a name. All of my life I have named my homes…until this one. I have lived here almost ten years. Then I remembered that I TRIED to name it for about the first year here, but nothing ever fit. Anything I thought of seemed contrived – because it was. This was never my home. This was the house my husband wanted, and where we housed any number of transitioning friends and relatives over the years, including foster children, and my Dad – but I have never been happy here. And yet there were many good times, of course; important always to remember that THESE are the good old days.

This was Curmudgeon Cottage…or maybe Castle. It was the old man’s hangout, recliners and big screen TV’s everywhere, cigar smoke, grease on the stove, yelling so you could be heard house. Yuk. My next home will be A Walk in the Park…I wish you the same blessing.