God Winks: An Incredible Story of Family, Time, Butterflies and Angel Trumpets

It's truly incredible to witness and understand exactly how specific God Winks fold out over time.  Once my eyes were opened and my spirit attuned to the beautiful synchronized world God has created for us, it is marvelous.  I believe that in life there are not coincidences, but rather, winks from God, coming at just the right moment; letting us know that we are never alone and his plan for us is a magnificent one.

Picture the scene: 1959, rural Iowa, a boy and his little sister in a flower patch at dusk.  But, not just an ordinary flower patch, this one was special, this one was the angel trumpet patch in their grandparents' yard.  The children you see here, are my father and his little sister.  The first two characters to come into play in this God Wink.  More will be added later, but without these two and this picture, the rest of the story may have gone unnoticed.

Pam and LeRoy in the angel trumpet patch, September 1959.

Fast forward to forty-two years to another September day in Iowa.  September 1, 2001, the day those children lost their father. On the night of my Papa Dale's visitation, an idea formed--an idea that soon flourished and added the next chapter in our decades long God Wink.  My aunt happened to live on a farm that was in the direct migration route of the monarch butterflies.  As we gathered up our grief, my aunt, cousins, brothers, and I tiptoed into the night and gently gathered up hundreds of those winged beauties.  We placed them in huge plastic containers and waited for the dusk to turn to dawn and the breath of a fall day to kiss our cheek, because that would be the time. 

As we neared the end of my grandpa's graveside service, the butterflies were let go and with a flourish, our prayers were sent up to heaven on the wings of those angels.  It was moving.  It was poignant.  It was a moment that changed our lives. From that moment on, I don't think any of us looked at a monarch butterfly the same way.  Each time we saw one, we always remarked that Papa Dale was coming for a visit.

 

 

And from there, life happened.  For a time, each of us was focused on our own lives and where we were headed: college. career, marriage, children. That is, until, it was time to send another one home. 

 

Fall again, not September this time, but close enough, August 6, 2012, the day my father got his wings. Having lost three grandparents and many friends, I thought I had a handle on grief.  I thought I understood the kind of emotions that were about to happen.  As that monarch butterfly that had been visiting my dad the day he passed, flew by one last time, I realized with a shock that I had absolutely no idea the kinds of emotions that were about to be thrust upon me.  To lose people you love is difficult; to lose a parent is devastating. 

 

Those two weeks spent in Iowa were healing.  I tried desperately to absorb every moment there; chronicling much of it on this blog.  As I released a little bit of the pain with every blog post, I had my eyes open for the slightest movement.  I was on the lookout; I needed a monarch.  

 

And, that last day there I got two.  The first flew right in front our my mother's windshield at the cemetery we buried my father in.  The other flew back and forth, back and forth, outside of the picture window my dad loved to look out.  I was comforted.  I felt an embrace of love from beyond.  I was rewarded a vision of what I desperately needed to see.



That's when things got interesting!  That fall, the butterfly winks began to rain down from heaven.  A welcome reprieve from the happiness drought I was in. I met my neighbor, Gail, and my life changed. I love our story, if you'd like, you can read it here.

And then more time passed.  A little over two years.  During that time, my family was grappling not only with the loss of my dad, but also with my son's diagnosis of Fragile X Syndrome.  Within four months of Trek's diagnosis, we lost my dad, and then just a few months later, we suddenly lost my aunt.  It was as if life decided to destroy everything that anchored us.  We were forced to rebuild and it was hell. We were thrust into the fires and there were many times I was certain it would consume me.

During this time, I had very little contact with Gail.  We would text once in a while and occasionally I would stop outside of her house and watch the butterflies flutter around.  The problem with being forced to rebuild your life is that it doesn't leave you much time for anything else.  I still am bewildered that we marched through those first few years, but we did, and, how cliché, we are stronger, better people now than we were then.

This past December, my son Tate and I went for a walk.  On a whim, I decided to walk past Gail's house.  We stopped outside and I was showing Tate her Monarch Butterfly Way Station post, when Gail's husband, Bob came over and started talking to us.  The next thing I knew, Gail was outside and was offering a monarch chrysalis for us to take care of.   Such a small gesture, but it literally left me in tears.  I was over the moon and so excited that she would trust me with such a treasure. 

I could not get enough of our chrysalis.  The metamorphosis of the butterfly is amazing.  I watched it every day.  I took pictures.  I posted pictures on Facebook.  To be in the presence of a miracle was almost too much excitement for me to contain!

Around this time, I received an unexpected package in the mail from my Aunt Pam.  She had sent me that picture of her and my dad in the angel trumpet patch and also seeds from that very same plant, so I could have my own flowers if I wanted to.  So often, it's the smallest gestures of kindness that take your breath away.  Immediately, the picture of her and my dad found a permanent home in my kitchen where I see it every day.  

Once our monarch eclosed, I took it back to Gail's house to set it free.  I have to admit, it broke my heart a little bit to let it go.  Once I got to her house, God Winked again; this time, fifty-five years from the moment he set it in place.  The miracle we were able to watch unfold, the miracle of the monarch butterfly, the biggest reminder my family has of  my grandfather and father, had found its home; fittingly on an angel's trumpet.

A piece of God's puzzle, put in place, December 2014.

 

Squire Rushnell: God Winks

 

Healing, Happiness and (Almost) Coming Full Circle

Doug and I spent today surrounded by our family.  Not our blood family, but our family of circumstance, our family of situation, our family of choice -- our lifeline, our hope, our brothers and sisters, sons and daughters -- we spent today surrounded by our Fragile X family. 

Over the years, there have been many gatherings with our FX family that we've been a part of.  It's incredibly healing to be with others who truly understand and "get" our journey. 

Today, I met a mom whose son had just been diagnosed.  She was scared, sad, overwhelmed, unsure, and feeling alone.  Although we had just met, I knew her well.  I was her two short years ago. 

Many parts of the day Trek was diagnosed are a blur.  I remember bits and pieces, but there are two things I'll never forget.  I will never, as long as I live, forget how I felt.  There are no words to explain my physical reaction to the news.  It was visceral.  I was numb.  I was scared.  It was so powerful it sent me to the toilet vomiting.  It was, for lack of a better word, awful.  Utterly awful.  I was hopeless. 

I will also never forget Doug's words to me as we lay in bed that night.  He told me that we needed to remember exactly how we were feeling because someday, another family would be diagnosed, and we could be there for them.  At the time, I couldn't imagine getting out of bed and dealing with my new life let alone helping someone else. 

Eventually, I did get out of bed and those days and nights of blurry sadness gave way to days of partly cloudy skies, weeks with no rain, and years of sunshine.  Eventually, I did learn to live again.  I genuinely smiled, laughed, and found joy. 

Today, I hugged that new member of our family and I cried with her.  I cried for her.  I grieved for her loss and I just wanted to scoop her up and fast forward her a few years down the road and place her in a spot of acceptance and peace. 

As much as I wanted to do that for her and take her pain away, that's not possible.  Like another FX mama said, "You've got to feel this."  She's right.  As excruciatingly painful as it is, you've got to live it and figure out your way through it; it's the only way to heal and to come out stronger on the other side. 

But, I could tell her it's going to be okay.  No, really it is.  I promise.  Things do get better.  You will figure this out.  You will find acceptance.  The pain never goes away, but it does dull, and as my friend said, you do get to a place where you can see typical children and not feel like you've been punched in the gut. 

Most importantly, I hope that she left all of us today feeling like she's no longer alone.  I hope that she left knowing that she's part of a bigger family than she could have ever realized.  I hope that she knows that she's loved.  Each of us know her well, in an essence, we are her.

The Peaceful River

This week we got the news that my son does not carry the genetic anomaly that resides in me.  This genetic shadow that's followed me around since my conception.  It's something that I cannot shake, no matter how hard I try.  It permeates my life and almost every thought I have.

This incredible news hit me hard and swift.  It brought me to my knees, made me cry, tilted my head towards the heavens, and had me utter thanks to God. 

The news of Tate's negative results came fast and quick, and interestedly, left me just the same.  All I was left with was thankfulness.  The news of Tate was so different than the news of Trek.  While Trek's news left me wallowing in darkness, sadness, and utter despair, Tate's news left me peaceful.

Trek was my ocean.  My unpredictable tide of grief.  My unsure footing.  My fall on my face. My tears without reason. My neon light of "what if".  My questions.  My unanswers.  My fault...

Tate was my river.  My predictableness.  My fleet of foot. My get up because it's okay.  My tears of a mother that knows that pregnancy isn't a guaranteed gift of "perfectness".  My flickering light of hope.  My questions.  My unanswers.  Not my fault...

My boys guide me through life.  At times, it's a rocky ride of which I hold on tightly for dear life.  And during those moments, I thank God for my life vests of those whom I hold so dear.  And, at times, it's a kick-back-throw-your-feet-up-and-enjoy-the-ride, kind of life. 

Right now, I'm smart enough to realize that life does throw you curves, but I'm also smart enough to know to enjoy the ride, because this is the only one you've got. 

So, join me in throwing up your glass, and saying "cheers"!  Let's sit back and love where this life takes us.

Here's to the river.

xoxo

The Things I Love

I am an Iowan girl living in an Arizona world, but the things I love still remain true.

I love family.  I adore a sense of belonging.  I cherish friendships; those that are near and those that remain far.

When I look out upon my horizon, I see magnificent backgrounds.  It may be the mighty Saguaro, or the simplicity of the oak.  The thorns of life and the comfort of leaves.  Each one has become my home.

The wind is the same; each one whispers a song that sings a verse of comfort and love.

Life knows no boundaries. Love doesn't have barriers.  It captures you and blankets you in a sweet embrace.  Through all of life's trials, the important things will never betray you.  They seem to wrap you up, sing their song, and send you off on the perfect wings of love.

In the Middle of an Ordinary Dream

My father came to visit me last night,
In the middle of an ordinary dream.
He picked me up in his beat-up truck
And parked in the backyard field
that overlooked my childhood stream.

He faced the truck towards the north,
And he quieted the restlessness in my heart.
I'd seen this field a thousand times--
But never quite like this.

The trees were lush.
The crops were green and full.
And the sky was a brilliant shade of blue,
The canvas to heaven's most perfect clouds.

And then he spoke,
But not with words.
His thoughts were impressed upon my soul.
A love so incredibly pure.
A love stronger than any emotion,
My earthly presence could understand.

And every instant a question formed in my heart,
He had answered it before my thought was done.
I don't recall every detail of his heavenly visit,
But the one thing I believe I was meant to remember--
The one message that was imprinted upon my soul,
Was simply this--
"I love you.  I have never left you. I will never leave you."
And even these words don't exactly fit.

I believe the day I will truly understand what it all means
Is the day I join him,
When I go--
Home.

And perhaps if I'm lucky,
He'll pick me up for one last ride in that dusty old pick-up truck.
And drive me over the horizon,
Past our fields of green.
Over the creek behind our home...
To the other side.

The God Winks: Nineteen Months Later

Incredible God Winks happen in life, sometimes you just have to close your eyes, trust your heart and believe.

It's been almost nineteen months to the day since my dad passed away.  Nineteen months of healing and nineteen months of learning how to live without him in this world.  It's been nineteen months of acceptance and understanding.  Nineteen months of unparalleled growth.  And, it's been nineteen months of sweet winks from God.

It's so interesting to me how the God Winks I've been blessed with have changed over time.  From the butterflies to the dreams, each one has brought me precisely what I've needed at that moment.  This week, I had two incredible, unbelievable, and amazing God Winks.  With the permission of my sweet friends, it's my honor to share them. 

Keep in mind, these experiences happened independently of one another.  Neither of my sweet friends personally knew my father and they both are very recent, beautiful, welcome additions to my life.  Here is our collective "story".

Tuesday morning, I woke up to find the following message from my friend, Valerie:

This may sound super weird but this morning I heard this song in my car and and image of you and your dad popped in my head. I know that I only "know" him through your pictures and stories but thought I would share what happened....

(This is the video she linked.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zV40NzkqJrw

 

What she didn't know is I just bought this CD, and the very reason I bought it was because of this song.  It reminds me of my dad.  I had just told Doug how much I loved the song and explained to him all of the reasons why.  My dad. His pickup. Moving to Arizona. 

I messaged my friend back and asked her what her vision consisted of.  I'm so happy I asked her...

It was kind of like the picture of him that you have where he is speaking at your wedding (I think) but it was closer up and more of a profile from the right side. Then in my head I heard "Sarah's Dad" then I saw an image of him driving a pickup and you as like a late teen/early 20's riding and then flashing to a little girl then back to you again... so weird... I just smiled and felt happiness and warmth in my heart. This seriously happened in a matter of seconds as I was turning on I-10 from Warner this morning. I have no doubt that was some kind of message to you. 



And this part made me laugh: Did he have a truck? What she didn't know was that my dad was a truck man. From the time I was a little girl (and possibly before that), my dad always drove a truck. 

When I told Valerie that my dad always had a truck and one in particular, an old rusty brown one that he drove for years during the eighties.  That dirty, dusty old pickup truck was as much a part of my father as we were.  A trusted old friend that weathered the storms of the heartland, but also the storms of the economy.  Although she didn't see that exact truck, what she wrote next melted my heart.

I am so glad that i was able to share that with you!! I cant quite see the color of the truck but he was adjusting the radio and seemed really happy...

And then, the next day...

So....this morning i went into school early with no children in the car so it was actually quiet. As i was backing out of my spot i said a quick prayer and just told your dad thanks for letting me be that messenger for you yesterday and i kid you not...in the next second that song came on the radio! I know it plays a lot right now but that was too much of a coincidence...lol!

And just now as I was asking permission to use her name, she sent this: P.s. your dad was laughing a hearty laugh while changing the radio in my vision!

And two days later, as I was still on the high from Valerie's message, I had another God Wink.  This time it was from my sweet friend, Sherece. 

I wanted to let you know that I was thinking about you all and praying for you all. You, your mother, and your dad were all in my dream last night...not sure why. They were both so sweet. When I woke up I felt a sense of urgency to pray for you all. I love you, and just wanted to let you know.

I read and reread this message over and over and over again.  I replayed it and digested it and felt such love from Sherece.  To know that my dear friend was praying for us was such a beautiful gift.  I think aside from having a visit from my dad, the part I love the most is the fact that she was praying for me, without my knowledge, and with such urgency and love, breaks my heart in the most loving of ways.

When I finally messaged her back and asked her what her dream was about, she sent me this:

The entire dream was bizarre from what I remember. We were at a hospital, your dad was being treated for something but it wasn't cancer. He and I were roommates in the hospital, but I wasn't sick. You, your mom and I were waiting outside the room talking and laughing. When I went in the room to get my things your dad was healthy and talking to me. He had on overalls and was kind of laying on his side. He told me some corny joke, it was beyond hilarious to him. Nothing really stood out in the dream...but when I woke up I felt so deeply in my spirit that I needed to pray for your family.

Check out the bold part; for those of you who know my dad, he was an overalls guy, and it would be COMPLETELY typical of him to tell some corny joke and find it HILARIOUS!  As soon as I read that, I'm sure he could hear me laughing in heaven!! 

Amazing, incredible, and wonderful things happen all of the time.  They happen around us, to us, and with us.  They happen because of and in spite of what we believe.  Simply put, miracles so still happen. 

We are all so loved; in this life and beyond.  I am so lucky to have a father who lets me know he's still with me and his new friends who pass on the messages of healing. 

God bless! xoxo

In the Darkness of Midnight

In the darkness of midnight,

In the time before dawn;

When the angels come whisper,

Their sweet goodnight song.

I meet you in heaven,

Between this life and yours.

To dance in the clouds

Of our most perfect song.

I hear your voice whisper,

You tell me hello.

Your arms wrap me tight,

We tango as two.

You kiss my head sweetly,

Your hands tangled with mine.

I step on your toes-

We keep perfect time.

In the darkness of midnight,

In the time before dawn.

The angels sing to us-

To you

I belong.