Giving Thanks for West Virginia?

While we look forward to visiting family at Thanksgiving time, the past 19 Thanksgivings have a tinge of sadness, marking the anniversary of my mom’s passing 20 years ago. Over the years, I would think of my mom now and again, but never pursued a real connection with her on the other side.   I had started and stopped my spiritual journey many times but this year I decided to stay the course.  

Brock and I were away on a soccer weekend together this past Summer in West Virginia when I was reading the book “Signs” by Laura Lynne Jackson .  The book is filled with stories of people connecting with their passed loved ones.  I didn’t need convincing.  I knew this could happen it just never happened to me.  The author mentions making a list very specific to the loved one who has passed so that when a connection is made there would be zero doubt.  Hmm, let’s see.  Frank Sinatra.  Paul Newman.  The Bee Gees song “More Than A Woman” (my mother mistakenly thought it was “Bald headed woman”), cinnamon rolls, crows etc.   I was instructed to set the intention to connect, being very specific about the place and time.  OK, here I go.  “Mom, will you show up at Brock’s game tomorrow?” 

The next day at Brock’s game, it was about 99 degrees with 99% humidity.  Being the good mom that I am, I was entirely focused on the game and the fact that I was melting.   So an encounter with my mom was not on may radar….at all.  Truthfully, I had completely forgotten about my intention. I just wanted to be alive by the end of the game. Brock and I went back to our room to rest and shower and I remember thinking,  Did she show up today?  Was that shirt the woman was wearing with the black birds her way of saying ‘I’m here!’?  Dang, I missed her.   

That evening, the team went out for dinner.  The adults were all sitting around the table and I noticed the same woman was wearing the shirt she had on at the game.  I said to her, “Do you think those birds are crows?” while thinking Mom, was this your sign?   Just as the woman was about to answer, I felt a wave of energy sweep through me and as if

t—i—m—e w—-a—-s s—l—-o—-w—-i—n—g d—o—w—n,

the woman next to me screamed, “OH MY GOD!  I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS HAPPENED!  I’VE NEVER DONE THIS!”  I turned to look at her and she had spilled tomato sauce all over her white clothes.  I laughed out loud, then I started crying and blubbering like a crazy person. This was on my list.  My mom always spilled food on her white clothes.  She could never ever wear white without something happening to it.   Everyone was looking at me, very confused as I tried to explain futilely; the book, my mother, the shirt, the tomato sauce.  The author had said those that have passed often use humor to get our attention. Well, my new friend didn’t think it was funny but I sure did.  I knew it was my mother and boy did she get my attention.   

I’ve always believed those who have passed live on, whether it’s a personality trait or mannerism from a relative still here, a visit from a butterfly (or crow in my case)  or the playing of a song at an opportune time.   When my youngest daughter sneezes,  I always smile because she sounds just like my mom.  If a crow lands next to my parked car, I think there she is. But now, I have even more proof.  Tomato sauce.   

Thanksgiving will be different for me this year.  I know firsthand I can call on my mom whenever, wherever and she will let me know she is here for me.  I will never forget that moment in West Virginia and I hope for many more of them (outside of WV). For this, I am especially grateful.  Once again, thank you Mom.