Stones are the Remembrance

Some people collect trading cards or stamps. Other collect accolades and trophies. It was in 2016 upon writing the first book I would published that I learned the significance in collecting stones. For my birthday spent in the hospital I was gifted a purple bible and a purple stone. I would gain from these two gifts a type of template that would set the stage for the season ahead. The painful path would require me to have faith and a promise upon my heart.

Ironically the thing I didn’t know I even wanted came from the lips of the man who would soon hurt me more violently then I imagined possible.

Stones became the term I spoke to myself in a moment of pause – that knowingness within that grips the heart as the inner voice inside says, “pay attention to this moment.” These are the milestone that many of us experience without knowing that something significant is happening. These are the crossroads in our path that shape the next decision and I’ve come to learn the most magnificent changes we endure take place on the inside of us, rather than outside.

Last night I received a stone in meeting a woman named Vicki. She was a lot older than I am and seeminly older than even she was. I could see the pain etched in the lines around her eyes as she spoke with a confident voice and bubbly demeanor. There’s something hidden inside of a woman who speaks many words and says nothing. “It makes her day,” said the faithful friend of hers who had worked with her for more than 30 years; seeing the pitfalls of her path as she stepped up to take on the role as caregiver to a paraplegic boyfriend and then a brother who suffers with dementia.

Vicki started the evening by gathering the people waiting in the gate area to speak instructions for nearly 20 minutes. It was not only long-winded, but it’s not her job to do this. The vocal flow of Vicki’s voice continued throughout the entire night as she picked up the intercom speaker over and over again to speak long messages with information that I’ve never heard anyone even ask for in the 2 years I’ve been on this job. What is she getting from this? I wondered? Then I learned about her situation as a caregiver. Then I saw myself.

We have so much to say and it would seem like a sin to speak even a word of what we’ve endured. So we place a pacifier on the little girl inside who’s screaming out for help by using our voice to do something seemingly positive – and find it balancing somehow to just speak. It’s like our way of feeling empowered and convincing ourselves that everything we’ve been through didn’t take away our voice. We still speak. We will not be silenced. We will still speak, even if we’re saying nothing at all.

In sharing just a slither of my hurt with Vicki over a coffee cup in the back galley, sharing with her an attack that viscously happened to me as a result of laying down my life for a man who couldn’t care for himself in my past, I saw her posture soften. “I too had all of my funds frozen by an ex wife that wants him dead so she can have the money.” We never expect that we will be persecuted and attacked for doing good in this world. It doesn’t make sense that karma could work this way. Why would anyone want to cause harm to someone who’s selflessly choosing to love and care for someone who’s too sick and unable to care for themselves? The answer is often money. And this makes me very sad to live in this world.

Later that night Vicki offered to give me a ride home to my little apartment in Dania Beach. This was quite the monumental moment of reflection as I sat on the floor of the mid-section of a van used by Vicki to transport her boyfriend’s wheelchair. It was a very dirty van – golden in color. I recognized this van but wasn’t sure why until I type this now.

Nearly a year ago I had a dream that I was in a beautiful place in front of a white house with a man who I loved dearly as I we prepared for a wedding. I walked outside and a woman driving a golden van pulled up to me and commanded me to get in the car. She told me that she was my fiance’s mother and she wanted me to know that he would soon go back to his ex and leave my life. When she dropped me back off, I turned around to look once more at the van and the woman driving the car had changed faces. She was now my ex mother-in-law. I said, “Wait a minute. You’re J’s mom.” She responded, “I am both.”

Maybe my dreams have been trying to speak to me for years now in showing me the path ahead will result in the same mistakes that I have left behind. I know what it’s like to give my everything to a love that’s not capable of giving much in return. I know what it’s like to be cheated on, abused and hurt deeply over and over again until my heart grows dumb. I know what it’s like to be then abandoned when I needed love and support the most.

“Your lease is up in 3 months?” Vicki asked as we took the turn down Dania Beach Boulevard. “Yes, I’m not sure if I’m going to stay or not,” I answered. “Why don’t you go to Vegas?” She asked as the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

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Vegas is the place within me that symbolizes the roller coaster in my story – the adult Disney Land where I celebrated my 2st birthday. falling in love with the city of lights and creative architecture. It’s the place I promised myself I’d one day go back to after my short year living there on a project with the big ad agency in my early 20’s. It’s also he place I first met him.

“Maybe you could do your real estate there,” she continued. I’m licensed in Texas, California and Florida. But for awhile now I’ve felt like there’s something big about to happen in Vegas. Maybe the fires in LA are the beginning of a mass exodus to the desert that perhaps is meant for me to take part in.

Vegas is also nearly 3,000 miles away from where I am now. I don’t have a single friend there and I don’t know what I’d do with my time. I fear being alone because it’s not been a good place for mentally over the last several years. But then again, wherever I go, there am I – always alone in a sense it seems.

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“Why did you say Vegas?” I asked Vicki. “I don’t know, sometimes the Universe just has me say things,” she responded, awkardly.

The name “Las Vegas” means “The Meadows.” According to Google, the city was intended to be a beautiful green oasis in the middle of the desert. This is a strange thing to read for me as I look up and see the scripture I recently painted onto a canvas that reads…..

“Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.” – Isaiah 43:19

Is this the Promised Land hidden to my sight that will soon be a city flowing with water and greenery? That’s the kind of impossible fairytale stuff that has led me to here. I followed dreams and visions to California. I haven’t had those kinds of dreams in a long time, however. So I ask myself this morning do I still have the strength to keep searching, keep moving around the globe and keep believing that these moments of strange revelations and messages without an author are somehow sent from the angels who serve the most High Heavenly Father? Is this road leading to a breakthrough I’ve prayed for and cried rivers of tears over for years now?

My next trip takes me to Las Vegas over the weekend. I ask my heart to open it’s spiritual ears and hear what the Lord might say to me in these next few days. I seek guidance and confirmation of what path is opening for me in this season of endless change.