Sneak Peak Inside If Only God Would Give Me a Sign! EXCERPT #1
I always thought it would have been a thrilling, heart-pounding story worthy of a mini-series if it had happened like that, if the life-changing sign from God that put me on the miracle-laden path to enlightenment had arrived with all the over-the-top, bolts of lightning ripping through the dark and stormy night sky in a scene from a Gothic novel. However, spiritual growth defies scripting (no matter how hard I try), and a whole lot of Divine comedy emphatically ends up being infused into my storyline. Instead, my messages from God show up when I least expect them, in places I would never think to look, in ways that I couldn't possibly predict. Go figure.
My real breakthrough actually came on an afternoon that was partly cloudy, with a slight chance of rain. Other than throwing myself on my desk, pleading with the patron saint of organization to rescue me from the chaos I laughingly called my office, nothing very dramatic was going on at all. I wasn't experiencing a dark night of the soul. I wasn't facing any life-and-death decisions. I wasn't at the end of my twisted rope, nor was I feeling particularly desperate . . . yet.
I was stressed, exhausted, and bemoaning the mediocrity that was my life. My story wasn't playing out the way I had expected it to unfold so many years ago. Where, for example, was the lifestyle of the rich and famous I was so sure was my destiny? I would have settled for financially comfortable, moderately successful, and fat and happy. But all I ended up with was 'fat' and it did not make me happy. Middle age had come and gone and I had little to show for all those years of toil and trouble. I was over the hill, free falling down the other side, battered and bludgeoned by every rock, tree stump, and gnarly root imbedded in the weed-infested ground on the not-so-sunny side of the street.
That got me to thinking . . . maybe I should do something proactive before that dark and stormy night scenario actually becomes a reality; before I get hopelessly lost once again in the lightless, overgrown forest of doubt and desperation, only to be rescued by a box of Double Stuf Oreos®. My plan: confront my higher power and demand (yeah that would work!) the life I knew I deserved.
Okay, it was an uncharacteristically bold move for me. My habitual life pattern was to exhaust every conceivable option before I turned to God for help. I would suffer in silence (more like low-volume whining) until my problem became big enough to warrant divine attention. Yes! Bigger is better! Once that thought congealed, a minor course correction was no longer an option. I needed a full-blown intervention-I begged for a miracle-a commercial grade miracle that would help me claw my way out of the deep, dark hole I now occupied, the one I had once again dug for myself.
Surely, there was some way to break the painful crash-and burn cycle I had adopted as my life pattern for being in the world. I wanted, no, I needed a better life than the one I was experiencing-one, not necessarily Happy Every After, but a life of some reasonable balance.
So . . . one perfectly ordinary afternoon, I tossed back a mug of cowboy black coffee. It gave me a false sense of courage, but courage was courage. I pushed through my bedroom French doors. Boldly stepping within inches of the railing at the far end of the deck, I took a nanosecond to survey the landscape to see if anyone was within earshot, and raised my right clenched fist to the heavens: "God, just give me a sign! Now!" With my arm still raised, a blurred movement in my husband's garden caught my attention. Two bunnies nibbling the Bibb lettuce patch abruptly stopped eating, their ears on high alert. I lowered my voice and added, "Any sign will do-just something that steers me in the right direction so I can manifest the life I really want before I'm too old to enjoy it." Okay, I thought, I'm good to go. I felt a tad ridiculous so I stepped back inside the privacy of my bedroom, collapsed into the recliner, popped up the footrest, and paged through the latest issue of O Magazine while I waited for the sign.
While I was not exactly sure what I expected to happen, I prepared for anything. Although I knew it was unlikely that blazing stone tablets, with or without Charlton Heston, would magically appear in my front yard, I was still hoping to be wowed. Wowed never showed up. No sign appeared, spectacular or otherwise. After about an hour of reciting in my head all the reasons why my life sucked, I decided to give up on the sign thing and get back to cleaning the oven. Downhearted, I resigned myself to a future without a deus ex machina to save the day (the ancient Greek theatre version of dial-a-deity) anywhere in my storyline. That's undoubtedly why, at first, I missed the sign I was sent. It appeared a few days after my dramatic plea. I had already relegated the incident to my "What was I thinking?" file. ...to be continued