It’s Saturday 1:30 in the morning and I’m in my sewing room mending a pair of my favorite Rock Revival jeans and my husband’s long-sleeved black shirt from the Dragon’s Tail.
“Why?” You ask. With one eyebrow raised and a slight curve to your lips.
“Good question.” I reply with a heavy sigh. “Ellie ran away again last night while I was sitting in my car speaking with Laurence about a break through I had at my Storytelling Workshop.”
I remember her coming out into the garage when I pulled in. She gave me her customary greeting. She usually says “Hello” on the way to the front yard to relieve herself. She also comes back in to get her expected treat.
When said treat was not delivered in a timely manner, she went looking for a delicious morsel from someone else in the neighborhood.
I was still on the phone with Laurence processing what I learned and how I was going to apply it. I totally forgot about Ellie and her ever hungry stomach.
I got out of the car and realized my mistake. I collected her leash and headed down to the neighbors to get her while still conversing on my phone.
She wasn’t there. She wasn’t anywhere. I looked. I called. I asked people.
So, I came home and prepared dinner. Ate dinner. Cleaned up dinner. Went out and called for her from the back porch and then the front. All while still deliberating and pondering the new information with Laurence.
I don’t know about you but when I go through powerful shifts, I get a headache and then very very tired. I just wanted to go to bed but I was worried about Ellie.
I checked my weather app to see how cold it was going to be. Thirty-two degrees but not until 5 am.
I decided to go to bed, set my alarm for midnight, get up, and see if she had found her way home.
At 12:04 am, I was standing on my front porch in my pajamas looking for my dog who wasn’t there. I checked the back porch at 12:08 am.
“I’m going back to bed.” I grumbled. “At least it is still over forty degrees. I’ll call the shelter in the morning and see if they have her.”
I returned to bed but not to sleep.
I might as well get up and be productive, I thought to myself.
I looked at my phone. Answered a couple texts from my kids. Called them because they work nights and have joined the vampire schedule.
Looked out the windows one more time hoping to see Ellie.
Went back to my bedroom and saw the two items I had laid out for repair.
“I might as well fix those. That’s productive.”
When I’m alone, I talk to myself. I’m not sure why but I do. Do you?
I gathered up my pants and Laurence’s shirt and headed to the sewing room. I set down and decided to work on my pants first because the machine had light blue thread already loaded. I prepared the patch, pinned it in place, sewed it, made sure it would hold, and then set it aside.
As I looked up from my work, my eyes came to rest on a plaque my mother had given me some time ago. She crafted it from a card she had given me. My thoughts turned to her and how much she had loved to sew and make little crafty things as she called them.
I lovingly ran my hand over the machine she had once owned thinking of all the cloths, gifts, and household items she had created with it. I felt closer to her and lost all at the same time.
The thoughts and emotions from earlier in the day came flooding back and I started to cry. I hung my head, let the tears roll down my cheeks, and drop on my penguin PJs.
I looked at the sewing machine once again.
There was something white sticking out from under the machine.
I lifted my head, wiped my tears off my face, and onto my pajamas. Then I reached for the object and pulled it out. It was a piece of white card-stock paper used in scrap-booking. It had the words Heaven Sent printed on it.
I have no idea how my mom was able to put that powerful message right where I would find it in my hour of need. But, she did. That’s what Mom’s do. They take care of us even after they’re gone from our sight.
I have no doubt that there are angles among us.
If you have lost someone and your heart is breaking wide open because you miss them so much, I’m here to let you know they are with you. They are protecting, loving, and guiding you still. You may not be able to see them but they’re there. I promise.
How do I know?
My mom delivered me a message and it transformed me.