The Wood Duck

It was at Women's Wellness Weekend that symbols from

the in-between fell into my path. 

And I received.

 

 

 

 Kim held a workshop, a wellness circle, with the topic "no coincidences".  All of us who participated had stories to share of times in which we followed the leading of Something Greater without fully understanding it; but fully trusting that it was the right thing to do.  Meredith shared how she met her husband by traveling to a tiny town in Ecuador which someone shared the name of - she went to the smaller town of the same name, but there was obviously a reason.  Emily shared how she stepped out into the unknown by participating in a group gathering for women in business and met someone who became a great encourager to her.  Muni shared how she met her husband, who had come to Brazil to minister to the Baha'i faith community, and how she had dreamed of him.

 

I shared about the items I found over the last day, small things that were in my path and I collected, wondering of their deeper meaning and messages.  One was a wooden bead found under my bunk as I placed my suitcase and shoes underneath it.  Another was a safety pin, found outside on the dirt path leading to the hall where we ate our meals, attended workshops, and danced for Zumba.  The last was a little yellow wooden duck, obviously used for kids' crafts at the camp, which I found on the path leading down to the lake on my way to check out the archery and BB gun range. 

 

 

"I believe that animals can be spirit guides," Kim explained, after suggesting that the bead could serve as a reminder that I am part of things (which means a lot to me.)  I took this piece of information in my pocket as I left from the weekend, planning to research it more.  The bead also reminds me of the infinitesimal, which holds great meaning for me.

 

I believe that God, by His Spirit, sends us messages through the in-between, and that we can read the messages if we care to.  Think about dreams, the symbols, numbers, the word or bird that we keep seeing, that seems to be looking at us right in our face.  Think about why we are attracted to certain animals, like my grandmother who loved giraffes, or my grandmother who loved owls.  Why do we connect with them so, what does this tell us about ourselves, what we are striving for, seeking, and the characteristics that we connect with?

This yellow duck looked like a rubber ducky.  What could it possibly mean?  When I made the connection - it is a wooden duck... A WOOD DUCK!!  And it's YELLOW - colors have meaning!  I was then able to extract much more from the messages I was reading on the websites I searched and gleaned from.  The wood duck WAS featured as a character all its own on websites that gave insight into the meaning of dream symbols and of Native American spirit guides, totems.  There is much connection to a world beyond here.   A world in which the Spirit, very much alive and speaking, has not left us to navigate this world alone but has left us with "The Friend, the Holy Spirit whom the Father will send at my request, will make everything plain to you. He will remind you of all the things I have told you. I'm leaving you well and whole. That's my parting gift to you. Peace. I don't leave you the way you're used to being left—feeling abandoned, bereft."

I know I am being spoken to, taught by, and guided by the One with whom I have entrusted my life.  And my desire is to keep my eyes and ears open to the message being sent through the in-between, the world beyond, and I will hold on to the meaning of the symbols that are sent to me.  I will listen to the messages being whispered in the silence.

I will notice that it is more than just coincidence when I log in to Facebook and see this posted, after I began to write this post early this morning...

These immature Wood Duck are a secretive bird commonly found in hidden ponds http://ow.ly/i/NRbS

Do you have stories of symbols that speak to you?

P.S.  I must share a little about what I discovered of the safety pin, too.  I read that it is a symbol of unity, and that it was used as a way for the Dutch to identify themselves when Nazi Germany was taking over their country.  The safety pin was worn by everyone who struggled for their freedom.  It was, as I read, "worn not just as an act of defiance but a symbol of hope and freedom."

 

Free to Change

This is Grandma; my husband's mother's mama;

my Grandma through marriage; our kids' Great-Grand.

We're in the car that my big sister (through marriage) keeps saying she wants to get detailed for her husband.  He's owned it for years, way over ten of them.

They just moved back east from  having lived on the west coast and then in the western desert since their marriage.  For us it's now a one and half hour car ride to visit them verses a five hour plane ride plus all the logistics of an airport trip.  We are delighted to have our close family nearer by; and our kids are ecstatic to be able to see their cousins more often.

My son needs football cleats and he is in the back seat with T and Grandma.  DeeDee's taking us to the stores twenty minutes away and we get to gaze out of the windows at the new scenery - the river winds itself through the land it's cut through, concrete stone tunnels open ways to pass under train trestles, huge metal objects are stored in a factory yard, we see baseball fields and the mill in town, and we pass a sign for Solitude House Museum.

Once we get to where the stores are, DeeDee follows the circles and we scour the signs for a store that would have what we need.  Grandma has been expressing that she would like a new color for her new bedroom; it's a light purple color with shade toppers that have hot pink circles polka dotted onto them.  When I asked if if she was sure she really didn't like it, suggesting that it could reawaken the little girl within her, she gave me one of her looks that says "are you crazy!?" and makes me laugh.  Oh, Grandma.  Oh, me.

After we found a sports store and purchased cleats for my son, we went to an office store to fulfill a request, and stopped into the paint store for samples.  I brought the sheet of off-white examples to Grandma, sitting in the car, to see what she liked.  She picked Ivory, not Marshmallow, and DeeDee suggested another color too, just in case Grandma picked that one for its name rather than what it looked like.

As we drove out of the parking lot and back into the circle, DeeDee and Grandma were talking about how she would like a new bed set.  Nothing is wrong with her bed set but she would like a new one, she explained to her granddaughter.  "When you want to change, you change - that's freedom," she stated, intonating finality.  In her late 80's, she knows some things.

Freedom messages are of special importance to me this year.  If you've read my blog or if I've told you about how this is my year of Freedom, you'll know why.  It's what I'm seeking after, and it's what has been pursuing me - and within these words  I'll link to blog posts that explain more.

I pulled out the light purple envelope from my purse to write down her quote.   It had held an invitation to a birthday party for one of my daugther's friends, and I couldn't help noticing that it matches Grandma's new bedroom walls; the walls she wants to paint over.  I wrote down the message, knowing I needed to catch the wisdom in her words, knowing I needed to hold onto the message that the ability to change is Freedom. 

I don't have to stay the same.

I can change my mind about things,

even if I once believed that this or that was right

or true in a diehard fashion at one point.

I can change my opinion.

I can change my style and the foods I like.

I can change the type of music I listen to.

I don't have to remain stuck in ways

that aren't working for me. 

There is no reason to always remain the same.

I am free to change.

I can even change my bed set,

just because I want to.
(but don't worry, hun, I don't want to -

not yet, anyway...)

From the Sky

There's a story I can tell you about the young woman who was sinking down.  Surrounded by messages that told her she was not enough, the voice of truth was drowned, and she could not feel the love that she once knew to be true.

As she drove the half hour to the grocery store, husband at home with the kids, she cried out from the inside - from the hollow, deep called to deep. 

Trekking down the road less traveled, mountain rock on the left, leased corn fields on the right, and river beyond it, she looked for a sign.  Somewhere between the expanse of flat road that led from the bottom of the mountain to the bridge that crossed the river into farmland, there was something.  In the middle of the road, in the middle of nowhere.  She had to pull over so her car didn't crush it.

Does love really fall from the sky?  In the form of a wooden coat hook hanger, handmade, with hearts carved into it, price tag still attached?  Off of some vehicle that went ahead and lost part of it's load, not realizing it?  Could it have been placed here just for me?

This is what she chose to believe, this is how she chose to read the sign of love that seemed to have fallen from the sky. 

It hangs now as a reminder in her home, and when she's sinking low, she is reminded that beyond the trap of voices from within or without that drown out the pure, loving voice of truth, love falls from the sky, and love surrounds you.

Sharing with Clytie - for more Random Hearts,

visit her place today.