It all started with a visit from a hummingbird. I was out in
the
backyard of a friend's house when a hummer flew right up in
front of my face. It did a little "hello" dance back and forth,
then zoomed away. We
feed
hummingbirds on our balcony, and this made me wonder if
they have some sort of long distance communication system
that we humans don't know about, the way whales and
elephants do.
In my diary Deliverance, I told about a friend's ALMOST near
death experience (she managed to dial 911 just in time), but
I didn't know all the details then. While she was suffering
from an acute asthma attack and reaching for the phone, she
saw her dead grandparents in the living room. They were
wearing heavy overcoats as if they were going on a long trip
(they had obviously come to take her back with them!)
As the ambulance was whisking her away to the hospital, she
thought she saw a man in a blue uniform with polished brass
buttons on her porch, as well as a car parked on the street
with her father's "vanity" license plate on it. Upon reflecting
on this later, she realized that this was also a visit from her
dead dad, who had been a policeman. She recently told me
more about her experience.
She says, "After I called 911 that evening, and after I saw
my dead grandparents in the dining room, I managed to walk
down the stairs to the porch to wait for the ambulance. It
was on the porch that I 'saw' and 'spoke to' the man in the
navy blue uniform (who did have some resemblance to my
dad in his younger rookie days on the police force. My sister
had a photo of my dad in his early rookie years which she
showed me after I had recovered and I mentioned the 'man
on the porch'). I may not have recognized my dad right away
since he appeared very 'young' when I saw him on the porch.
"The confirmation for me came afterward. When I was
recovering. my friend took me for a private healing session
that took place in Brooklyn. After the session, we walked
back to my friend's car. A different car was then parked in
front of his car from the one parked there when we'd first
arrived, and that's when I saw the license plate that read
DIMA. That was the 'nickname' of my late dad. Everyone
called him by that name: my mom, grandparents, family
members.
"When I saw that plate, I made a very profound connection.
My dad worked at the 79th Precinct in Brooklyn during his
police career. I realized at that moment that here I was, not
far from his police station in that neighborhood. After re-
living that moment on the porch (and having asked for
confirmation as to whether that man I spoke to may, indeed,
have been my dad on the porch) I believe that was the
verification I was looking for."
A couple of days after I saw the hummingbird, Whitley asked
me to interpret a strange vision he'd had (something I often
do for him) during meditation. He told me that he'd seen a dog
come to him, wagging its tail. I laughed and said, "D-O-G
is "God" spelled backwards, you had a visit from God!"
In a dream later that night, the Visitors were showing
him lots of money, some US and some foreign. There were a
lot of bills he didn't recognize. Then we went to church,
where the head of an inner-city Catholic school spoke about
how hard her students and teachers worked and how much
they needed donations. Whitley has a lot of deep anger about
the hierarchy of the church and thinks that our local
cardinal has done a poor job of pastoral care, so when the
woman asked for a donation to an archdiocesan fund, I
expected him to ignore it.
Since I once taught at such a
school, Whitley didn't need to consult with me about giving
them money: he knew I wanted him to.
For a moment, he hesitated. I assumed that he wouldn't do
it. Then he suddenly wrote out a check for them.
Later we were taking our daily walk when we had a license
plate experience similar to my friend's: Just as Whitley
said, "the dog I saw in my meditation looked so familiar and
so real, I wonder if it might have been one I knew when I
was a kid. He was the sweetest, most downtrodden dog I ever
knew. He had a rough life, but he never stopped giving joy.
I gave that money because I thought of him, and it felt like
he was asking on behalf of the kids. I wonder if it really
was him." At that moment, we passed a car with
a vanity plate on it that said "QUAGMRE." Whitley stood
there, staring in amazement. "That was his name," he said.
"Everybody called him Quagmire because he was always a mess."
In a recent diary, I wrote about how cars seem to be
oracles,
and in this case, it was definitely true!
Related Entries:
31-Aug-2010: Cocooning
10-Aug-2010: A Trip to Crop Circle Country
27-Jul-2010: Marriage: Hot & Cold
06-Jul-2010: Marcelle
27-May-2010: A Trip to Esalen
11-May-2010: The Birds
13-Apr-2010: Staying Open
31-Mar-2010: I was an Angel for Easter
23-Mar-2010: Nuns I Have Known
09-Mar-2010: CARma
