Only
Fools Believe
“Trust in the
Lord with all your heart; and don't lean on your own understanding. In all
things acknowledge him, and he shall direct your way.”--Proverbs 3:5,6
It
sounds crazy to want to see a psychic. All that phony-bologna stuff. They
aren’t real. They steal your money and give you false hope. They are evil. They
take advantage of the innocent. Only fools believe.
I’ve
heard it all. Yet, I found myself sitting on the edge of my seat as my
hairstylist spoke of a psychic she met at a party she recently attended. She
listened as the psychic told a stranger a story of his grandfather who had
passed. She watched the man cry, along with everyone else at the table. They
were mesmerized by this woman’s words.
I
had heard of a local psychic, Teresa. She was friends with a few of my
girlfriends. I met her once. I thought of speaking with her many times. I just
couldn’t get the nerve to ask.
I
missed my mom. I missed her just as much as the day she passed, June 18, 2001.
They say it gets easier. They say with time…
What
I say is, “You never fully get over it. Life will never be the same.”
Does
life go on? Yes, of course. Do I laugh? Yes, of course. But there is not one happy
occasion, holiday, or accomplishment achieved that isn’t a little less grand
because she isn’t here to share it with me.
I
used to run through her front door shouting out whatever good news I had.
She
would run up to me, throw her arms around me, and say, “That’s my girl!”
She
had a way of making everything in life a little better.
I thought, if I could just talk to my mom. If I could
just have a few moments with her I would know she was OK. I would know she was
up in heaven. I would know she was safe. One day, I will see her again. One
day, I will hear her voice again.
I
popped out of my own internal thoughts when my hairstylist said, “Yeah, her
name was Teresa.”
“Teresa!”
I shouted. “I can’t believe that’s who you saw! I know her.”
Could
it be I was being pulled toward her? What are the odds? I fought internally for
weeks. You are a fool. But, what if? You are crazy. But, what if? The
coincidence was too great.
Next
thing I knew, I was sitting on Teresa’s couch.
I
felt the nerves and emotions rise as I sat quietly looking around her home. My
hands started to shake and my heart race. I wondered if she could tell I was
scared. I felt the tears welling up before she even spoke. I looked at this
beautiful woman as she slowly closed her eyes. She rubbed her hands as if she
was putting lotion on them. Quietly, she started to pray. She opened her eyes
looking deep into mine.
“How
is your sciatic?” she asked.
“Oh
my gosh, that’s crazy!” I shouted out. “It’s bad. I am getting a shot in my
back on Thursday. How did you…?”
“I’ve
got an uncle figure here. He is an artist. A painter. Known for his unusual
brush strokes. Very unusual. They kind of run together,” she said.
“This
is crazy! Crazy! That’s my Uncle Frank. I have one of his paintings in my
living room,” I said.
“He’s
here. He’s here with an Uncle Tony.”
“Oh
my gosh, that’s his brother. I can’t believe this,”
I
couldn’t think. I couldn’t clear my head. I was just looking at her, looking
for words. How could she have known?
We
spent the next two-and-a-half hours talking about my family members who had
passed. We talked about my future. We talked about my dreams. Things she never
would have known. Things even I didn’t know about my own family. I was
overwhelmed with the information she had given me. I was thrilled with my new
discoveries but still a little disappointed that my mom didn’t come through.
She
asked if I had any questions. I wanted to shout out, “What about my mom?” But I
just couldn’t make myself do it.
“No,
no…I don’t think so,” I said.
She
looked at me and said, “Who’s Joyce?”
“My
mom.”
