signs

I think it’s awesome when people see exactly what they need to see. It happens all the time. It happens all the time when we’ve experienced a loss, and we know the person is still with us, and we need something from that person—comfort, forgiveness, inspiration, understanding. Or if we simply need the reminder that the love they’ve given us is still present, still gifted to us, even when the gift giver is gone.

It might be the favorite flower of a loved one appearing in an unexpected place, a bird or butterfly coming unusually close just after we’ve mentioned their name, a note or recipe penned by their hand and tucked into a book that we open at just the right time.

I guess for the magic to really work, we’re supposed to believe the person we’ve lost is actually guiding the moment, sending us what we need the way they might’ve done when they were alive.

I don’t believe that. But I still feel the magic.

***

In mid-October of this year, I faced a challenging moment. I needed my mom. I needed her in a very particular way. I needed to remember and own what she taught me about standing up to bullies, and I needed to remember and own what she taught me about compassion. I needed to remember that standing up does not mean pushing someone else down. I needed to feel strong and peaceful in my decisions.

As I gathered my energy and made decisions, I sought out my poster from the Women’s March. My mom loved it. Seeing it again helped center me. It reminded me that I am my mother’s daughter.

But that wasn’t the moment of magic. That came the next day.

***

Just prior to this challenging moment, I had blogged about owning my time and feeling really good about it. One of my decisions was to buy a puzzle so I would have down time that was relaxing and meditative, getting me out of my head and into the peculiar mindset that a jigsaw puzzle elicits.

I headed to the consignment shop and browsed a huge stack of jigsaw puzzles. I went through one after the other after the other. I had one in my hand, then I put it back and chose another. I have no idea why I spent so much time looking for a puzzle. They were all used! They probably all had pieces missing! What in the world propelled such a goofy quest?

And then I uncovered the sign. A jigsaw puzzle picturing Motif #1 from Rockport, MA, where my mom grew up. Rockport! where so much of my childhood was spent! Ah! Mom was clearly there for me. She put the puzzle where I would find it. She wanted me to know she was there with me and was proud of how I handled my recent conflict. She motivated me to buy a puzzle. She was the reason I kept looking through the big messy stacks of jigsaw puzzles in the consignment shop. She was pulling strings left and right to make this feel-good moment happen for me.

I don’t believe any of that part. But I do believe in the magic of the moment.

I believe the love people give us remains. I believe the good things we learn from people, the impacts they make on us, the ways they shape us—I believe that is how people live on. When I make good choices because I’ve learned from my mom (or others! there are so many teachers I’m lucky to learn from!), those are moments when I’m not alone.

I bought the puzzle. It was a sign, for sure. I don’t need my mom to have put it there. It’s a sign because I let it conjure what I needed. It’s a sign that’s of this world even though the kinds of things I’m talking about are not so visible, not stacked on the shelf of a consignment shop.

***

I just finished the puzzle. It helped me center myself these past two months. It has felt good every step of the way, not just because I associate the picture with my mom but because I associate it with all my family and with a childhood full of small adventures and simple pleasures and board games and laughter.

Don’t get me wrong. My childhood was full of all kinds of bickering and crankiness and temper tantrums and all that fun stuff. But the picture in the puzzle is magic. The horrible moments from my childhood must have been in the six pieces missing from the puzzle. The pieces that are there have conjured only the good.

If for you it’s a flower, a bird, a butterfly, a note or a recipe, you can tell me and I’ll believe that it’s a sign, and I’ll believe in the magic. It’s just the magic I believe in is not about spirits pulling strings. The magic that astounds me is how people matter so much that their lives continue to touch us and give us what we need even after those lives have ended.