THE SPIRITS GATHERED

Last night, February 13, on a cold Alabama night, my friend Ginny, her husband, John, and I went from eating chili at their dining room table, to sitting in the front row directly in front of Sylvia Browne...THAT Sylvia Browne, psychic extraordinaire.  

Ginny and I had seats 5 and 6, Row AA, in other words, front row center, and Sylvia graced the stage, sitting on a leather sofa, a soft lamp on each side of her, talking to us about healing ourselves and healing others.  We meditated, we laughed, we listened, we "amened," and we loved her!  

The first four rows, and that included Ginny and me, were ushered to a microphone where we were allowed to ask one question.  Here I was with the greatest psychic of our times willing to answer a solitary question, and I nearly drove myself crazy coming up with it.  I realize that it could have gotten way out of control if there wasn't some sort of limit, because I alone could have shot off twenty questions without taking a breath. 

I said, "Are my mom and dad happy?  Are they with me?"  

She said, "Not only are they happy, turn around and say hi because they are right behind you."

That answer, of course, could have been the answer to anybody's question; however, I had mentioned several times to friends of mine that I wake up every morning at 3 a.m. That has been a pretty disturbing pattern for me for weeks now.  As I walked away from the microphone Ms. Browne said, "They visit you at 3 a.m. every morning, just so you know."

I backed up to the microphone and said, "Excuse me? What time?"

She repeated, "3 a.m."  

My heart sang.  My spirits rose, probably literally, because, well, after all, this was a woman who could speak to spirits, who could see things we sometimes don't see.  

That was part one of my sabbatical to Birmingham, Alabama.

Valentine's Day I awoke with renewed energy.  Apparently Mom and Dad chose to let me sleep all through the night for the first time in many weeks, thank you guys, and I was prepared for a Valentine's lunch at Jim N' Nick's with Ginny, her sweetheart, John, and their son Todd, who thought he would melt my heart by bringing along these two little angel children, Luke and Lily.  And they did.  What sweet little kids.  Luke is the most sensitive and artistic little kid I've ever met, and lovable.  Lily, at age 3, is just a little imp with a round face and short curls.  I was surprised that wings have not sprouted from those shoulder blades of hers and Luke's.

Here's what I ate:  Pulled pork bar-b-cue on a plate with this big mound of mashed potatoes and some baked beans.  Which was okay.  As far as I was concerned, the sweet biscuits they kept tossing on our table BEFORE the meal were the highlight.  Everyone knows how I feel about my Southern style sweet stuff!  

While there, I drew a fantastic picture for Luke.  Artistically, I am equivalent to a 2 year old.  My impressive stick figure and tree and sun with spikes sticking out of it that was floating mysteriously right on top of the tree was awesome, then Luke drew a stupid-looking portrait of me, which looked just like me, glasses, shoes, a tree and a sun with shimmering light coming off it.  (I hate to say it, but it wasn't nearly as good as MY drawing).  (Okay, yes it was.  It was way better - and I'm fifty-three, and he's 7).  

After our lunch, we had to go about the business of having a memorial service for Ginny's little dog who tragically died in an accident earlier in the week.  The kids came over, and Todd did the shoveling work while we said what we loved about little Billy.  There were tears all around, but it was a decent send-off for a little dog whose greatest happiness was when hunting down and chewing up someone's glasses, iPod, ninety-dollar head sets, or snatching a pink bra and running madly down the street with it with his cussing master in hot pursuit!  We will miss Billydog.  Enjoy your new wings little buddy.  And as Ginny said, "I'll be up there with you someday, as long as you don't eat God's glasses, you little scamp!"

So now, my little weekend with one of my best friends is drawing to a close.  Tomorrow, if the winter storm warning for my part of the world does not materialize, I will be back on a Southwest jet heading north and sleeping back in my bed which barely had time to get cold while I was away.

To Alabama!  Cheers!