Are The Signposts Right In Front of Us?

"Without warning, the book fell from the top shelf. Feather light, it floated, and bounced gently on the wooden floorboards. I felt like I was watching an old black and white movie -- in slow motion."

Looking in the rearview mirror it was difficult to make out the obscure shapes of my husband and children as dust from the gravel road filled the hot dry air and clouded my vision. I coughed several times, blinked and allowed myself one last look.

Around my husband's neck were the plump arms of our two-year-old son, and close beside, bounced the excited figure of our four-year-old daughter. Like the pendulum on a clock, tiny hands waved back and forth, as they watched Mommy drive away for an afternoon of shopping--alone.

Turning onto the hi-way, a calm fell over me, like a protective raincoat in a fierce summer storm. Suddenly, I felt alive, loved and at peace with the moment. Little did I know, that I was about to learn that the smallest of events in one's life could transform it--forever.

At this moment my mind wasn't preparing one of its endless lists of things to do, places to be, or traveling back in time to a space that no longer existed. All I could feel was 'now' and I was shrouded in a cloak of contentment.

I crept into the small town with the silence of a thief, hunted for a shaded parking space and began my safari. On foot, I was free to shop anywhere.

My passion for books led me quickly to a brightly painted children's bookstore. Filled to the rafters with every child's book imaginable, my heart raced as I realized I would be able to find the books my son adored.

It took very little time for me to zero in on the titles I was looking for. Like a child in a candy story, I ripped one after another from the shelves and clutched them possessively to my breast. I wanted them all.

Decisions had to be made as the clock abruptly ticked off precious minutes of my freedom. I smiled; imagining the squeals of joy from my son's lips as little hands took possession of their new treasures. I realized that the money I had to spend would not cover the purchase of the books I wanted to buy.

Shuffling one over the other, I methodically narrowed my choices down to four of his 'most favorites.' Adding up the costs, I could just cover the price of three. Fanning the chosen four like cards in a deck, I closed my eyes and like a sorceress casting a spell, waved my free hand.

Giving little thought to when or why my hand stopped moving, I opened my eyes to a book with the drawing of a little green train on its cover. The face of the train was smeared with foamy white shaving cream. I knew from reading these stories that this inquisitive little train's name was Percy.

Suddenly, I felt like I was standing in the centre of a vacuum as the world around me stopped revolving and a soft voice whispered, "Put me back." I looked around, wondering where the sound had come from. There was no one there; I was alone in the aisle.

Without hesitation I knew I would follow the words I had heard. I watched as my hand carefully withdrew the book with Percy's face on the cover and put it back. It felt strange leaving him behind, but without hesitation, I knew it was the thing to do.

Immersed in a mental fog, I paid for my treasures and immediately left the store. I melded with the walking traffic as the sun warmed my face and an awareness of my surroundings returned. Once again I inhaled the sweetness of my freedom.

My next stop was an antiquated second hand shop. I felt a strange, almost magnetic pull to enter the tiny store. As I heaved the old wooden door and walked in, an elderly woman smiled warmly at me while simultaneously pointing her crooked arthritic fingers to the rear. "We have a lovely selection of used books in the back, dear. I'm sure you will find what you're looking for there."

I hadn't realized I had been looking for anything, but I made a beeline straight to the back. Once again shelves and shelves of books surrounded me. Lovingly I caressed the soft covers, taking no particular notice of titles or authors. I walked slowly, enjoying the sweet scent of old wood and the strange, familiar fragrance of belongings from another time. Suddenly I had the urge to stop.

"Without warning, the book fell from the top shelf. Feather light, it floated, and bounced gently on the wooden floorboards. I felt like I was watching an old black and white movie -- in slow motion."

Cautiously I bent to pick it up. Turning it over, goose flesh erupted on my skin and a tingling coated my soul. Like coming in from the cold and stepping into a steaming hot bath, I felt safe, warm and protected.

Staring back at me with an 'all knowing' face was Percy, the little green train. My hands shook as I glanced at the price tag in the corner of the book. Allowing myself to breathe again, I read the tag. Twenty-five cents, one thin quarter, I could afford that.

Strange, but the next thing to pop into my head was the feeling I used to get in school when I was able to grasp a difficult math problem. The lights would go on and everything that seemed complicated, suddenly seemed incredibly simple.

Well, I can tell you, that day the floodlights came on with a vengeance, lighting every corner of my world. I could hear the little train muttering, "Well, it's about bloody time. We've been trying to get your attention for so long. The difference today, is that you listened."

In that one small moment, I got it. With an absolute knowing and a feeling of 'pure truth', I knew that spirit was guiding me in everything I had done, was doing or would do. "There are no accidents..."

If I ask--spirit answers. The key is in the listening. We are not alone...we never were. But something inside you knows that--doesn't it? The veil is thin. Why not peek through? I did and have never turned back; it has been the greatest ride.

One piece of advice though, once you have a look, there is no turning back. It is a craving like no other. You will want more and more of the love that you feel every time you remember that Spirit is there holding your hand as you walk this path and learn to marvel in the journey.

...Is believing really meant to be that simple?

The End

By Lori Balch