Stranded...

The grumpy and condescending Amtrak agent behind the counter said with an almost smirk, "Sorry. They're not letting anyone else board at this time."

"But the overhead TV screen says '12:15 train to Seattle boarding now.' It was 12:10. "Why?" I asked pleadingly. I had already extended my Portland visit for another night, and now I just wanted to be home.

"Nope. They're no longer boarding." Period. Paragraph.

"When can I get another train to Olympia, then?"

"Not until tomorrow. All sold out for today. Try Greyhound," he answered as he dismissed me away into the throngs of travelers.

And that was that. No compassion. No sincere apologies. No offer for assistance. Just that almost smirk.

Shocked and in disbelief, I stumbled outside into the sunlight on this late August sunny Portland day feeling helpless. Not only was I shocked that I had missed my train, but also shocked at the total lack of compassion from the Amtrak agent.

Making it as far as the bench outside the train station, I sat. And as I sat, tears welled up and flowed. Yet in the midst of the tears, I also knew my heart was telling me that I was not alone. That I knew for sure. I was in a very uncomfortable situation, yet deep down where it really, truly mattered, I knew that I was not alone. The warm sun was shining down on me and I strongly felt a presence. A presence of peace. I knew my angels were surrounding me. I knew there was a solution. I just had not discovered it yet. 

After a good cry, I walked across the street to the Greyhound station and heard overhead, "Northbound to Seattle boarding." My hopes soared, yet were quickly deflated as the Greyhound agent told me the same thing - all buses were sold out for today. Nothing until tomorrow. She did not have a smirk though.

I found my way back to my bench, looked up car rentals on my phone only to discover one-way car rentals were exorbitant. I explored the option of ride shares, but nothing was available. The thought of hitchhiking came into my mind, but I just could not envision me on I-5 with my thumb out. 

I had spoken with my daughter in Portland and my husband in Olympia and both offered to journey halfway to meet later in the day to get me home, but I would not wish that on them for anything, as Monday morning comes so early and both of them treasure their Sunday evenings.   

It was at this point that I truly allowed myself the luxury of a meltdown. Right there in front of the world in sunny downtown Portland, I sobbed my heart out. I was overcome with helplessness. I felt sad and stranded and just wanted to be home. As travelers were coming and going and looking my way, I didn't even try to stop the buckets of tears.

When my tears were exhausted, I dried my face and went back into the station to get a refund on my ticket. That was at least something. One step at a time, right? But I had no clue as to the next one.

As I approached the ticket counter, lo and behold, a new Amtrak agent was in front of me. This one seemed different. I felt it the moment I walked up to him. He seemed to exude kindness, gentleness and compassion. As I told him my story, he apologized. Sincerely. He said he was so sorry for the inconvenience, and immediately began typing into his computer screen when I handed him my ticket. 

It was then that the magic happened. 

"We can get you on the 2:45. Will that work?" 

"What?" I exclaimed. "Really?"

"Yes. They start assigning seats at 2:15," he said in his kind voice.

Why on earth didn't the first agent tell me this? Why did he tell me there was absolutely nothing until the next day? Did something magically open up in a matter of minutes? Or did he just overlook the fact that a seat was available on the next train? 

I don't know. But I do know this. Even in the midst of my meltdown, feeling frantic and helpless, I still knew and felt that I wasn't alone. It would all work out. I didn't know how, but I knew it would. And it's that inner knowing and the peace that no one can take away, that I'm truly grateful for today. And kind, compassionate Amtrak agents. 

Like

A Mother's Heart Is An Interesting Thing...

The subject of her email was: Going to take creole drum lessons in Belize. It
then continued with, "The more I figure out what I am doing here the more awesome it gets!"

And thus my 24-year-old daughter's journey to Mexico begins, off to witness first hand pyramids, Mayan ruins, coastal communities and beaches, the culture, linguistic tutors, creole drum lessons, and life. All by herself. No tour guide. No companion. Just her.

Could I do that at 24 years of age? Heck, could I do that now, when I'm past the big 60 milestone? I don't know. I would have to do some serious soul searching on that.

But before I had time to really reflect on the topic, a phone call came in the evening, just three days after she left, from her twin brother, Andrew. "Mom, I've just purchased my ticket to Mexico. I'm leaving Saturday morning to join Elizabeth and will come back with her in June." So, okay, he's off to explore too! For over a month. Just like that. Bam! It's a done deal.

Wow. How do I even respond to that? Well, my mother's heart shouts out loud and clear, "GO! Experience this beautiful world! Explore big time! Magic and adventure await. Do it now while you are not bogged down with 'jobs' and bills to pay and kids to feed and all the other silly everyday routine of life things that tend to entangle us.

Yet...this darn mother's heart of mine, which is full of immeasurable love for each of my children, already feels like it has an empty space in it. And the tears fall even as I write these words. It's because no matter what age my children are, there's this connection thing - this bond - and I feel it so strongly that when I know my little brood of chicks are not all lined up in a row where I know they are safe and I can get in my car and drive to them, or pick up the phone and call them, or FaceTime them, and rather instead might be limited to only an email every now and then when they're in a foreign country, well...my comfort zone is all of a sudden out of kilter.

It's that letting go process that no matter their age, tends to be a challenging process for moms (and dads too perhaps, but I can only write from the mother's perspective since that's what I am) with our babies.

I was reminded of how that process starts early on as I watched the interaction between my daughter, Rachel, and her two-week-old son as they gazed into each others' eyes while she cradled him. I could literally feel the bond between them. It was strong, very strong. If only Super Glue bonded my broken objects together like that! Yet as we discussed when she might be ready to go back to work, we both realized how difficult it was to even start thinking about leaving him in the hands of another caregiver.

But it happens. Eventually. Whether it's a daycare center, a big yellow school bus, a driver's license, college, or adventures into foreign countries, we mothers have no other choice. The goal of course is to do it gradually for their own good and ours. But my oh my, that's not to say the process is without some pain...and pride and joy too. For now though I'm feeling the pain.

A mother's heart is an interesting thing...

Who blogs about a baby salamander?

Who blogs about a baby salamander? Or lizard? I'm not really sure what the difference is, and perhaps if I backtrack in my brain multiple decades and imagine myself back in my high school biology class with Miss Wimbish, I would remember. Or google. I could just google it. But since that's not the point of my story, I will continue not really knowing the exact specimen of one of the main characters in my story. 

However, what I do know for sure is that this story of a baby salamander/lizard was a magical and tender moment for me. And therefore I cannot help myself but to tell the story...

The Pacific Northwest sunshine was uncommonly warm on this mid-September day. My daughters Elizabeth and AnnaLisa were with me. We had met some dear folks who were on a tour of our beautiful state college campus. After we had said our goodbyes and were about to leave, Elizabeth remembered she had a book in her car that was long overdue, so I walked with them back to their car to retrieve it and return it to its appropriate owner. 

As we walked in the brilliant autumnal sunshine talking excitedly about our life happenings, Elizabeth stopped abruptly, and exclaimed passionately, "Oh look, a baby lizard!" 

Right before our eyes on the red brick walk, she had spotted the tiniest baby lizard I had ever seen  quickly making its way somewhere. And even though someone, anyone, could have stepped on that tiny creature snuffing out its life without even knowing it, I observed my gentle 23-yr-old daughter cooing and wooing it to her as she tenderly put her hand down on the brick pavement. The little creature obliged her and crawled right up, where Elizabeth then cradled it and sent her nurturing feminine divine love into its little being. 

Time seemed to stop at that moment, and together, we three human beings and this one little tiny amphibian creature were one in this window of pure love and peace and warmth, communicating from one living creature to another the universal language of love. 

It was only for a couple of minutes, and then Elizabeth tenderly released baby salamander to a safe haven in the ivy borders surrounding the brick walkway. And yet, those moments were a magical interlude into a timeless epiphany of Universal Oneness.

Observing the daughter that I cradled and nurtured nurture a creature that someone else might have thought nothing about crushing the life from, brought me back to who I am...who we all are. Love. We are love. For me, I will remember. I will remember that gentle love my daughter demonstrated, and hope that I too may show it to all living creatures, great and small.  

Starry, starry night...

Last night as I was driving home from a family gathering, the crystal clear, voluminously starry night reached down and spoke to my soul. I had no choice but to pull over and gaze up into infinity...into eternity...and witness firsthand the beauty of our brightly shining universe.

I was moved to tears by the breathtaking wonder of the sheer magic of last night's sky. For those of us who live in the Pacific Northwest, clouds very often hide this vision, but after a much needed cloudless day of warm spring sunshine, the stars came out in full force.

It brought back to my memory two things: First, as a little girl growing up in central Texas, I would play outdoors late into the evenings in the long hot summers with my brothers and cousins. I remember having my Mason jar in hand and running to catch fireflies as we entertained ourselves while our parents were on the patio getting caught up on all the latest gossip. The night skies made a big impression on me then, with the stars so bright and shining and innumerable...children's laughter echoing in the dark...any worries or cares long forgotten...such fond childhood memories for me. And I was taken back to that same state of mind as I looked heavenward last night - present, carefree and in love with life itself.

The second memory that came to me was in song, and I heard my soul singing the lyrics during this magical moment. For those readers of this blog who are children of the 60s, I'm sure you already know to which song I refer. Music artist Don McLean penned the lyrics to what was to become a beautiful eulogy to artist Vincent Van Gogh's tragic ending of his life. 'Starry, Starry Night' became a hit in 1972, and its poetic words always come to mind on those mesmerizing starry evenings:

Starry starry night
Paint your palette blue and grey
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul

One can never plan such moments in one's life when tears come simply from the awe of the natural beauty around us. However, when those moments of epiphanal beauty (my new phrase meaning soul epiphany beauty!) appear in my life, I am learning to take note, to pause if only for a moment, and to allow the flow of the magic to have its way with me. I am learning to listen to my heart at those times, and to enjoy...every single enchanting second of the present moment and the radiant gift of life.

Rainy Mondays and heart rocks...

Yesterday I walked in the rain. That's not unusual for me, living in the Pacific Northwest. While on my walk, what was unusual though, was the Universe shouting to me unequivocally, "I love you!"

"Seriously?" one might ask. "Really?" Let me explain.

Whenever I'm outside, I'm always on the lookout for heart shaped rocks. I collect them, or rather, they collect me. They just come to me ... the law of attraction I suppose one could say. I don't even remember how or when it started. Several years ago I started seeing them and would pick them up and bring them home to display in my garden, on my front porch, at my kitchen window, on a bookshelf ... basically anywhere in and around my home.

Now whenever I'm outdoors, I always look, and they always, or almost always, magically appear. At least one rock, sometimes two. I mean it sincerely and to the utmost degree when I say that I love my heart shaped rocks. To some, they may be "just rocks," but to me, oh to me, they are definitely the Universe's magical language of love. And for each and every 'heart' rock that comes to me, I am immensely grateful! I feel loved and special and nurtured when they appear in my life.

Now back to yesterday ... rainy, gray, dark, new moon Monday morning. Since it was the first day of daylight-saving time, I kept looking at the clock and telling myself it was not really that time, but actually an hour earlier. Ugh. I forced myself out of bed to walk off the cannoli I had eaten Saturday night, feeling sluggish, tired and perhaps a little (well, maybe not so little) on the crabby side.

As I prepared for my cold, dreary trek outdoors, I asked my angels, guides and Spirit to show me signs of love and guidance for this new week. I plugged in my earphones, tuned into my ambient music and opened the door. Immediately the first sign I received was the shockingly loud chorus of birds singing, cheerfully greeting me as I stepped outside. Okay, wow! Thank you for my sign of love. I definitely felt my mood lift and instead of dreading my walk, anticipated the joys of being out in nature.

As I rounded the curve around the lake, I then noticed the flock of ducks swimming in unison on the still, glassy waters and creating such a beautiful ripple effect that I was mesmerized. I stopped to take a picture, which is rare; I don't stop while power walking. Wow, a second time! Thank you again for such a graceful sign of love.

I continued on my walk, then beginning to feel as though I was in a magical space. That's when I saw my first heart rock (pictured). I was so smitten by it, I knelt, did a wee bit of digging to jar it loose from its resting place, and then picked up my treasure. I was as ecstatic as a little kid making mud pies! Wow, a third time! Thank you, Universe, for touching my heart with love again!

It was at that point in my walk that I began to see heart shapes everywhere! I began laughing out loud as I spotted more and more heart rocks. And then heart shaped fallen leaves. Even asphalt patches took on the shapes of hearts. I am not kidding. Everywhere I looked I saw hearts! My, oh my, I was definitely feeling the love!

By the time I had completed my walk, within a 45-minute timespan, my whole outlook had changed. I had returned home with four heart rocks (I left some for others), one heart leaf (pictured) and more importantly, my own heart overflowing with gratitude and love and appreciation for life itself.

Thus, this is my reminder to self: When I'm feeling stuck or grumpy or negative, remember. Remember to do what I know I need to do to get unstuck - to move that stale energy. For me, that's praying, meditating, writing, exercising, listening to music, being in nature, doing an art or craft project, having coffee with a friend, hugging any or all of my grandchildren, etc. My spirit is lifted, I go forward in love, and free myself to be all of who I truly am. Remembering is key. And asking. For help. Always ask. What works for you?

In love ...Victoria Lynn

Angels...

Victoria's Snow Angel, who adorns the front porch

Recently on an outing to find thrift store treasures, I found myself in the book aisle at a local Goodwill. I discovered several books that piqued my interest on the topic of angels. I love studying about angels, and often feel their presence in my life, and daily call on their assistance in matters great or small. Thus I was delighted to purchase the books (at half price even!) and couldn't wait to get home and delve into them.

One particular book that I picked up was a compilation of angel visitations which occurred during difficult times that the contributing authors were going through or accounts of their near death experiences. I thoroughly enjoyed reading these stories because for me, each account is inspirational and makes me feel confident and safe in the knowledge that angels do watch over us in love and protect us, and when it's time to leave our physical body, even tenderly assist in bringing us to our real home.

The book also reminded me of my first angel visitation when I was just a young pregnant first-time mom-to-be, living far away from home. My guardian angel literally 'had my back!'

You see, my husband and I had moved from Texas to San Francisco in 1975 when I was in my early twenties. At the time of my angelic encounter, I was 'great' with child, being 8-months pregnant with my daughter. We were living in a first floor apartment and had made dear friends with a young couple who lived in an upstairs apartment in the same complex. They had asked me to water their plants while they were away for a week, and I agreed.

When I set out on that brisk, foggy morning with watering can in hand, I remember thinking as I climbed each step how very steep the stairs were. And narrow. Plus, the huge fern to the right of our friends' front door was on a very small landing and in fact took up most of the space on the landing. It might be a bit easier to lift the watering can and maintain one's balance for someone who could actually see their feet when they looked down, but my only view was a big round belly!

As I was lifting up the watering can to empty the contents on the plant, the inevitable happened. I lost my balance and felt myself tumbling backwards in slow motion down the steep concrete stairs. Immediately, and I do mean immediately even before I reached the first top step, I felt two hands on my back break my fall as if they were literally catching me. Then they softly and gently raised me upright until I was standing steadily on my own two feet. With my heart beating rapidly, I turned around to look at my knight (or knightess) in shining armor, and lo and behold, not a soul was in sight. Not one person. No one.

Then whose hands had I felt on my back? Who had stopped my fall? Who gently put me back on my feet?

I know without a doubt that I was rescued from falling down that concrete flight of stairs that morning by my guardian angel - of that I am sure. My healthy baby daughter was born three weeks later, and I rejoiced knowing what might have been if not for my angel's intervention that day.

Through the years I've shared my angel story with others, and in turn, have listened to theirs. I like to remind myself that my angels are constantly present by collecting angel statues and putting them everywhere around my home, inside and out (meet my Snow Angel, pictured above). They make me smile. And that's a good thing. : )

Reflections from an ice cream shop...

My 5-year-old grandson and I were out for ice cream. He was his usual bubbly, enthusiastic and adorable self, savoring every bite of his pistachio frozen yogurt adorned with gummy worms, sweet and sour candies, and topped with colorful sprinkles! We chatted about his school day as he noticed two more customers entering the shop. They ordered their treats and then came to our area and sat down next to us - a grandmother with her granddaughter around the same age as my grandson. In his innocent and carefree way, he said a few words of greeting to the little girl. I smiled to myself, admiring his easy and natural manner of befriending the girl. Then he said to me, "Grandma, say something to the other grandma. They are just like us - see," pointing to them, "grandma and granddaughter," and then pointing to us, "grandma and grandson. Go ahead. Say hi. It's okay."

Oh the innocent bliss of children! When do we outgrow that inner caring and respect for others that cause a child to reach out and show love and acceptance so naturally...to say we are in this together, and I will be your friend. It has to start with someone, right? That day in the ice cream shop, my grandson extended his generous heart to others. And it only takes one person to start that flow of love.

I learned that the hard way. Several years ago I worked at an outpatient drug and alcohol treatment center. Clients were not there because they wanted to be there. They were court mandated usually because of DUIs, and they were certainly not happy about it. It was a costly lesson for them to learn, and trust me, they were mad as heck about it, and it was rarely their own fault, or so they thought!

I was the first person they saw when they walked through the door and also the first person they talked with when they called to schedule their initial appointment. Consequently I received a lot of their negativity. And they were very generous with it! I thought I could handle anything, but the anger, frustration, and disrespect made me feel like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders, day in and day out. It was taking its toll on me emotionally and physically.

I lamented to my husband every night after work, not knowing how I could continue to deal with such negative energy from our clients. It took me a while to finally go within for the answer, but one day as I journaled and meditated about my dilemma, I heard, "Let the God in me see the God in them." That's all. That's exactly what I heard. Too easy, right? Or perhaps too hard? The answer was to change my perception and to allow the God-ness that is in each of us to connect on a deeper level of respect and acceptance by honoring one another. What a difference that made!

I committed from that day on that every time someone walked through the doors of that agency, the God in me would see the God in them. Every time I answered the phone, my prayer was that the God in me would be communicated through the phone lines. And it worked! There were times I could literally feel the anger dissipating as I applied this principle. I was amazed at the response from people when they felt respected and honored and heard and accepted, even in their frustration and anger.

I love using that principle now in my daily life, even though I forget sometimes. That's why it was so refreshing for my 5-year-old grandson to remind me to always see that kindred spirit in others. Wouldn't our own little neck of the woods be a kinder place to live if we did so? May it begin with me.

In love and light...

Victoria Lynn