Ever have one of those days when your heart is not just on your sleeve, it’s flat out all over the front of your shirt like a Thrifty’s triple scoop cone on a hot summer’s day? That’s today…

A sweet mess.

It started out a little off. It could have been because the water heater went out a day and a half ago and I’ve had to take lukewarm baths. That could have been what’s throwing me off.  But, no, that’s not it. Pretty sure of that.

Five years ago my 15 year old cousin was kidnapped and murdered. My family is preparing for a verdict to this horrific event. The jury deliberates as I type this. So we wait. The man accused sits in his cell right now, also waiting.  I can’t even begin to wrap my head around this, even after five years. I have moments when I attempt to. It’s a big thing for us mere mortals to undertake. It seems that something always seems to swoop in and protect my soul from such thoughts.  So, I’ve learned to sit with it. The ache I carry for my family seems to just soak in as time passes. It has become part of me.

I’ve also had some others outside of my family on my mind. What seems like a lifetime ago, I was the caregiver for a family that blessed my life with three enchanting little girls.  One of them passed away two years ago. She’s been heavily in my thoughts the last couple of months. I wonder if that’s  because a woman I work with could be her sister…her slight doppelganger if there is such a thing.  Or it could be that the sunbeams are shining down more so from above as summer, her favorite season, approaches.  This too, I let my soul sit with.

I recently started working in a little bookstore on a very obscure college campus.  We sell books that are not mainstream.  I find them a bit wacky but also fascinating. It’s  very spiritual. I’ve observed devout Christians say this as well as die hard agnostics. I’ve felt it as well.


When I unlocked the door this morning (after washing my face with ice cold water) I saw that the alarm was disarmed. Not really strange if a coworker arrived before me. But the place was empty. I assumed it was the maintenance guy. As I unloaded my purse and iced tea on the counter I noticed a book lying in middle of the floor. It was as if it jumped from the shelf and was rethinking its decision.  Hmmm…

The place was empty. Hmmm…

A little later a couple of coworkers arrived. I told them about the book. They both shrugged it off.  Hmmm…

As the afternoon slowly passed by, thoughts of the two girls I mentioned earlier tiptoed around the edges of my mind.  The humidity seemed to lighten up. The roosters started crowing (yep, there are roosters….at…my…work.) and we were even blessed by a visit from an intriguing, yet strange,  super tan man who chatted with me about “catching some rays” and also made sure to tell me that once we start noticing things we cannot stop seeing them. Then he misquoted a saying about becoming a seeker.

I love these kinda days.

As I was about to wrap up my shift  two men from the alarm company walked in with tools and a ladder.  They started asking questions about the alarm and doors. Apparently at 3 a.m. last night one of the sensors in the middle room was tripped. We supposed that someone from the college came over and turned it off and called these guys to double check everything. Nothing seemed to be missing. After some poking around the technicians determined that whatever it was came through the (un-wired) back door and triggered the closest sensor in the middle room. It’s a very old building. They decided that it must have been a gust of wind blowing through that not-so-well-sealed old door tripping the very sensitive alarm system. They suggested that that door be fixed.

Then I remembered…

The book. The jumper….

Leaving Room For Angels.

That’s the title.


Sitting with it. It’s not easy. Not one bit.



It leaves room for the angels when they swoop in.



2 responses »

  1. That kind of sensitivity can be a blessing and a curse, methinks. [If it stirs your writing juices though, it’s great. You always have a way of making me smile through tears.]

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