Signs
Have you ever experienced a “sign” from God, or from some spiritual connection with another person? Sometimes we know right away when something happens that it’s a sign, while other times it takes the clarity of hindsight to reveal what had been an unnoticed sign in the past. I’ve certainly experienced this, and lately, it’s been on mind.
This contemplation of signs began last weekend following a discussion with my mother in-law, Sharon . We were talking about a couple we both know who are getting divorced. We both attended the wedding in 2003, during which something happened that has always stuck with Sharon but which drifted past me like a summer breeze. When the couple attempted to light the unity candle, it would not light. They made several attempts, complete with obligatory nervous laughter from the congregation, but the darn thing just refused to light. I don’t even recall this little snafu, and had I remembered it, I’m sure I would’ve just chalked it up to the inevitable glitches that happen at all weddings. Maybe the candle wick was moist, there was a draft, or the couple was too nervous to hold the flame steady to the wick. Anything’s possible. At the time, Sharon worried privately that this candle mishap was a sign that the couple wasn’t supposed to be getting married, or that their marriage would fail. After all, lighting a unity candle is a sign of a couple’s commitment to share their lives as one, obeying and trusting in God. Now that it is apparent the marriage has failed, it makes me wonder…was it a sign that God knew this couple was not meant to be together?
This past summer, Sarah and I were outside enjoying the warm sunshine. Sarah was happily digging in the dirt with her miniature garden tool set, when suddenly, she looked intently in the direction of our neighbor’s backyard and said, “Hi, Great-Grandpa.” Following her gaze, my eyes discovered nothing but grass and trees. She continued her stare for a moment, and then returned to her digging as if nothing had happened. I struggled to make sense of it. Sarah has only one living great-grandfather, whom she has never met, and to the best of my recollection, we had never introduced her to the term “great-grandpa.” A couple of weeks later, however, Sarah and I were sitting in Aaron’s grandmother’s kitchen. Among several photos of various family members and friends on the refrigerator, Sarah looked at an old Polaroid of Aaron’s now deceased grandfather. Having never met him or seen a picture of him before, Sarah pointed to the photo and said, “Great-Grandpa.” Could his spirit have been revealed to her that day in the yard? It makes me wonder…was it a sign that our loved ones are indeed around us and communicating with us?
Perhaps the most profound experience with a sign that I’ve had came shortly after Sarah was born. It was mid-morning and as a new mother, I was exhausted from lack of sleep. Sarah was finally sleepy, so I put her in bed with me – something I hadn’t done before and never did again. She was nestled close to my chest, and my elbow was propped on the pillow, my hand supporting my head. Fatigue set in and not only did I drift to sleep, but my head and upper body fell from my hand, partially covering Sarah. I abruptly woke up to what sounded like a bowling ball being rolled slowly across the entire length of our attic, resting just above our bedroom. Realizing that I was partially lying on Sarah, I sprang from the bed in outright terror. Once I was assured that she was still breathing, I went to the living room to ask Aaron what had made that noise. He said, “What noise?” It makes me wonder…was God, or someone, protecting Sarah?
In times past, I may have interpreted these things as being funky coincidences, however now I rest comfortably in the belief that these signs are worldly manifestations of a living God. It makes me question how many signs I’ve missed due to my own ignorance or preoccupation with insignificant details of daily life. Sometimes if we are still, we know that God is there just by looking, hearing and feeling, in which case we don’t have to wonder.
