Inviting Help into Your Life

Showing the way

“I do believe in an everyday sort of magic — the inexplicable connectedness we sometimes experience with places, people, works of art and the like; the eerie appropriateness of moments of synchronicity; the whispered voice, the hidden presence, when we think we’re alone.”
~ Charles de Lint

 

Divine Guidance.  Signs. Help.  Answers to prayers.  Last-minute reprieves. Dramatic turn-arounds. Miracles. Most of us have asked for them at one time or another, but are we actually heard?  Can we really reach out like that and expect things to change?

I believe that the answer is yes. But it is useful to understand the process.  Our job is not only to ask. (I’ve written about that process here: Asking for a Sign) Our job is also to be receptive to answers, no matter what they look like, or how they come to us. Our job is to ACT on those answers and synchronicities. Our job is to know that we need to trust in Divine Timing. Especially when what’s happening in our lives is not going to OUR timing – the timing we want for ourselves and our plans and dreams.

Let me explain…

Back in November 2012,I stood on a moonlit beach in Thailand thinking of a particular set of circumstances in my life. My beloved Nana had just died, and I would not make it home for her funeral. And earlier that day, when I still suffered from congestive heart failure, I’d been crippled with severe chest pain. The pain had gone, but it had left me frightened and bemused. Once again I’d hit a wall with my health, and no matter what I’d tried (and the list was exhaustive) nothing was working. I realised I had reached my limit. No matter what I did, I was dragging myself through life, not enjoying it at all, but trying my best. For my husband. For my friends. For my clients. Every day was a struggle. And every day I was getting worse. Again.

I missed my Nana. I felt like more of my cheer squad was now in heaven than down here on earth.

My deteriorating health was impacting my marriage, my work, my very ability to draw breath. I knew in my heart I couldn’t go on like this. I didn’t have it in me any more. I’d found the end of the line. I stood there on that beach, oblivious to the beauty, with tears streaming down my face and I said, “Do you know what, God? I just can’t do this anymore. I’m done.”

I was ready to go home.

Image by Richard James

Image by Richard James

I meant it.  I said what was in my heart.  There was no neediness. No wanting or hoping. So it wasn’t really a prayer, or even a request for help.  I just said it how it was.  A definitive statement without expectation. I was squared away with dying. In fact, I fully expected that death was where I was heading. I was okay with that, sad as I would be to leave my husband. I was so very tired. I had no fight left in the tank. I really was done. I turned on my heel, went back to our room, and then forgot all about this seemingly one-sided conversation in the days ahead.

Less than a week later, I bumped into a friend in Bangkok who told me that she’d been having thyroid problems.  She mentioned that it could sometimes cause chest pain.

We talked some more…

Oh, she said. You need desiccated pig thyroid, not that other stuff you’re on. There aren’t too many doctors back in Australia who prescribe it, but there’s one in Brisbane. And she gave me his name.

A few days later I was back in Brisbane, and I called that number. By some miracle I ended up with an immediate appointment with a doctor who usually took a year to see. In fact, I’d tried to see him three times during the past ten years and been unable to get an appointment at all. But he was in his office, it was a Friday afternoon, his secretary had gone home with the flu, and he’d just had his last appointment of the day cancel. Could I come in straight away?

I could, and I did.

Before I saw him I had to fill in a very long and exacting health history. Standard procedure for doctors who think outside the square.

I wrote it all down. All thirty years of it. Something I hadn’t bothered to do for a long time.

He called my name and I went into his office.

I looked around at the pictures and the box of toys on the floor while he read my history. It took a very long time.

Finally, he looked up.

“This is textbook Lyme Disease,” he said. “Ever been tested for it?”

I’d never even heard of it.

He gave me forms so I could send off some blood samples, and that was the day I began to get my life back.

He was right. I did have Lyme Disease. I told my sister. She stumbled upon some information concerning another doctor who was about to open a new clinic, specifically treating this illness. I was one of the first patients to be seen.

These two physicians changed the course of my trajectory forever.

Now I am healing.

One day I fully expect to be well, whatever that may look like.

Why am I telling you this?

Because I know that somewhere, right now, someone is reading this who needs to know that they are not alone. That our thoughts and prayers are heard. That answers sometimes come from left field, and in manners that we could never have imagined.

Sometimes we need to ask for help. Sometimes we need to surrender.

And it usually doesn’t happen in the timing we’d hoped for.

But…

…wherever you are at, know that miracles are possible.

Change is possible.

Help is possible.

Healing is possible.

And you are worthy of all these things.

Sending you much love, and holding a candle for you in my heart, Nicole xx

Image from Vastu Chai

Image from Vastu Chai

Darling, she’s not okay

Image by Chrys Campos - flickr

Image by Chrys Campos – flickr

“Resolve to be tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving, and tolerant with the weak and the wrong. Sometime in your life you will have been all of these.” 
~ Dr. Robert H. Goddard 1882-1945

Yesterday I went down to the local shopping mall nice and early. I needed to get bloods done, fill some prescriptions and pick up a few things. I’d planned to go the day before but circumstances intervened so here I was, trying to get my errands done before I started work.

All the stores I needed were already open, although most of the centre was still shut. While I waited for my scripts I treated myself to a breakfast  of coffee and a toasted sandwich in celebration of finishing the last of my current Lyme drugs. I sat at a table outside a cafe, in the middle of the mall, watching the centre slowly come to life. The lady at the opposite table looked up and smiled and then turned back to her ipad and latte. It felt good to be up and about and getting things done.

My solitary meal made me think of my precious Nana, who passed away on the 16th of November last year. Joycey would often order the exact same coffee and toastie and enjoy a little break in her day when doing her shopping. We September Girls have similar tastes.

Image by Kiki Diamant

Image by Kiki Diamant

As I was sipping my coffee I heard Nana’s voice loud and clear, “Darling, she’s not okay.”

I looked up, startled.

“Go see if she needs some help,” Nana’s voice urged kindly.

Right in front of me was a frail elderly woman limping and struggling with a shopping trolley. Her arm and face were badly bruised and I wondered if she had fallen recently.

“Excuse me,” I asked, “are you okay?”

Looking at me, confused, she placed a hand on her chest. “Are you speaking to me?” she asked weakly.

“Yes,” I said, standing up and walking the few steps over to her. “Are you okay? Do you need some help?”

Her hand clutched at her top and her eyes filled with tears. She nodded her head and began crying.

I took her by the arm and sat her down at my table, and moved the shopping trolley over beside us. I asked if she would like some water, and fetched a glass, and then  ordered her a pot of tea.

When she had finished crying, I asked her again, “Are you okay?”

“You know,” the old woman said, “I prayed yesterday and again this morning. I prayed for help but I didn’t know who to turn to. There’s only my son and me.”

As she sipped her tea she told me her story. Maud (not her real name) is eighty-three and lives in a unit not far from the shops. Her sixty-year-old son has recently been released from prison. He’s the only family Maud has, and he has no-one and nothing after many years in detention. Since his release he has been drinking heavily, and has begun assaulting her. Maud was afraid to say anything in case he was locked up again, but now she feels like a prisoner in her own home and her son is becoming more and more aggressive and unstable.

Portrait de Femmes by Linda Vachon at Flickr

Portrait de Femmes by Linda Vachon at Flickr

As Maud related her situation I too sent up a silent prayer, asking for help. I wasn’t sure what to do next or how best to deal with her situation.

But it was all okay. The woman at the next table came over. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help overhearing,” she said. “I’m an off-duty policewoman, and I can help you with this.” After getting some details and reassuring Maud, the police woman excused herself, stepped away and made a few calls from her mobile phone.

What a kind and good woman. Within half an hour she had organised for an ambulance to attend to Maud, and for Maud’s son, who had broken his parole arrangements, to be taken back into custody.

I rang the hospital late yesterday and found out that Maud has a fractured cheekbone. She is resting well and I have promised to visit her. Over and over again she thanked me, and all I could think of was how little I’d really done. I’d simply asked an elderly woman, who was obviously struggling, if she was okay. And it had come at the prompting of my own beautiful Nana – the first time I have heard her voice in spirit.

It’s such a simple question: Are you okay?

It’s also a question that binds us together, weaving a thread of humanity and kindness through all of our lives so that we may be supported and know that we are not alone.

Last night I lay in bed and thought about the events surrounding Maud. I had shifted my day around to accommodate an emergency reading the day before, which is why I ended up at the shops so early yesterday. A policewoman sat opposite me. Maud stopped her trolley directly in front of both of us. I heard my Nana’s voice, which caused me to speak to Maud and ask if she was okay. Maud got the help she needed.

How can I not believe that there is more to life than this? That our prayers are heard? That love keeps living and giving, even when our loved ones have passed…

Image by littl3fairy

Image by littl3fairy

How Synchronicity Happens

“I do believe in an everyday sort of magic — the inexplicable connectedness we sometimes experience with places, people, works of art and the like; the eerie appropriateness of moments of synchronicity; the whispered voice, the hidden presence, when we think we’re alone.” 
~ Charles de Lint

Have you ever wondered how synchronicity happens? It’s a wonderfully magical concurrence of events that leads to an opportunity, a ‘chance’ meeting, a lining up of the stars in some way advantageous to you.

I was at the opposite end of one of these events recently. Let me explain…

Our usual pattern in the mornings here at our farm (when I am well enough) is that I wake up early, meditate, blog, feed the animals and then my husband and I head off to a favourite cafe for some writing time. We’re usually in and out of Byron Bay or Bangalow well before the tourists are even on the march.

But last Friday that didn’t happen. I felt quite average (after a horrible couple of days) and so we stuffed around at home doing one thing or another, and didn’t leave early. In fact we almost didn’t go at all, until Ben decided that a little outing would do me good.

Then we quite spontaneously drove in the opposite direction to price hay for our wiener calves, after which we headed back into Bangalow for a cuppa and some writing.

2012-06-04 11.06.04

We’d totally forgotten that it was a) Friday and b) school holidays. By this time it was mid-morning and town was packed. We were almost about to go home when a parking spot opened up miraculously in front of us. Happily we pulled in and then crossed the road to a local haunt.

A girlfriend we haven’t seen for months waylaid us outside the cafe for a chat. People stopped to admire Harry and to pat him. It took ages just to get to a table.

We ended up getting next to no writing done, but had a lovely social time. Then Ben decided on the spur of the moment to go to the Post Office, and I got the idea in my head that I might as well go to the butcher to get some soup bones. By now it was lunch-time, and the main street of Bangalow was thick with people.

“Nicole Cody?” I heard someone say. “I just knew I’d run into you today!”

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The face behind the big dark glasses looked familiar, but I was having a bad day, and I struggled for a moment to place her except for her name; Karen.

She’s a beautiful client of mine who used to live here in Australia, but who’s now relocated to the United States. She was down in our part of the world for a few days and decided to come to Bangalow for a look, hoping to run into me.

And I can tell you that on a Friday at lunchtime in school holidays the likelihood of that should have been totally negligible. And yet here we were, in perfect synchronicity – exchanging hugs and happily catching up.

I felt like I’d been pushed around a giant chess board to position me in the street in front of the butcher just for her. And I didn’t mind a bit! 🙂

The Universe has a magic to it – not to be understood by the head, but known by the heart.  Trust in that! Who can say what magic awaits you?

Much love to you, ♥ Nicole xx

I am open to the guidance of synchronicity and do not let expectations hinder my path