Serendipity (part 2)

essay, non-fiction 2 Comments »

meditation

continued from yesterday

Over the next five years I read and reread this book and another Wayne Dyer book, The Power of Intention. I purchased the CD’s of both books and listened to them so much that I actually had to replace them both. I made back-ups so that I wouldn’t go broke replacing them. I have introduced so many to people to these books and CDs that I’ve been asked if I work for Wayne Dyer. My pat answer, “I work for God, as does Wayne Dyer.”

So last spring, I finally made the decision to attend a Wayne Dyer lecture. I’d first chosen the October Wayne Dyer conference in Dallas. For a myriad of “everything happens for a reason” reasons, I ended up changing my reservations to see Dr. Dyer in Scottsdale this past November.

I need to backtrack a bit and add some history here to demonstrate the synchronicities which occurred prior to my arrival in Scottsdale. In August of 2003, I moved my then 8 year old son, fifteen year old daughter and myself from Fort Collins, Colorado to Kansas City, Missouri to care for my dying best friend, my mother. It is a decision I will never regret. My mother lived just short of a year after our arrival. Six weeks later we were preparing to return home to Colorado when my son was diagnosed with a serious kidney disease which caused us to stay on for another year in Kansas City. My young son was on 70 mg a day of prednisone for seven months—a fate, in hindsight, worse than the disorder itself—and the doctors told me the next step was chemotherapy. What put my son on the road to recovery was him talking to his kidneys and demanding that they heal and me deciding to wean him off this terrible drug. He believed that if Wayne Dyer’s daughter could get rid of a chronic skin condition by talking to her “bumps” (p94, Spiritual Solutions) then he (along with prayer) could make his kidneys well. He has been in remission for several months now. During this extended and unplanned medical stay in Kansas City, is when I decided that I would somehow or another see Wayne Dyer in person. I needed a live “Wayne Dyer” fix, as it were, to get myself back into the spiritual swing of things.

Just before moving back to Colorado this past October, I ran an estate sale for my mother’s possessions, going through every closet, piece of paper, file, drawer, box, etc., in her seventeen room home to separate the seed from the chaff. This experience in and of itself is one I don’t care to do again, but the actual selling of the family home of forty years was one of the sadder good byes I ever made.

While I am the oldest of my mother’s six children, I was the only one who did not permanently reside in the Kansas City area. Therefore, the trustee and executor of the estate fell into the lap of my brother—the next eldest. Quite unfortunately, my brother is an alcoholic, and consequently, has not dealt well with the death of my mother, the selling of her belongings or ultimately the family home. In a nutshell, there were many disagreements over the handling and sale of our family home. This caused a major division of the family—something none of us foresaw at all. For my part, I was deeply hurt through words, actions, and seemingly complete disregard for the fact that I uprooted myself and my family, not only with the intention of caring for my mother, but also of making sure we all stayed as close as we’d always been despite any familial “dysfunctions.” In the end, I left Kansas City, angry and prepared to never speak to half of the family, particularly my brother and my godmother, again.

November finally arrived, and my fiancé and I could hardly wait to get to Arizona to see Wayne Dyer and several other inspirational speakers at a conference called “Celebrate your Life.” We also looked forward to a much needed respite away from family trauma/drama. Three days before we left, my laptop computer caught a heinous virus—I’m a writer and, silly as though it may sound, I wondered how I would survive the Celebrate your Life conference without my laptop—the repairman told me it was highly unlikely that he could get it up and running before my departure date for Arizona. Pens and a pad of paper would have to do—I somehow suspected the world wouldn’t end without a laptop.

Two days before we were to leave, the woman who was supposed to take care of my seventeen year old daughter while I was away, had a death in the family and could no longer help us out (my daughter has been struggling with drugs/alcohol and the law, and could not stay home unattended). I called my ex-husband out of state and asked him to please come up and stay with the kids. I re-explained how long I’d been planning this event. I reminded him that previously he assured me he would help out if anything fell through. He could not come. I became furious. He doesn’t work and has the means to get to Colorado. I picked up the phone, called the airport and bought an expensive instant airline ticket for my daughter. I was not going to miss this event. I needed to take care of myself for a change—as is suggested by all airlines, I needed to put the oxygen mask on myself first so I could then help those around me.

The night before we left for Scottsdale, the computer repairman showed up at my door with my fixed laptop. Delighted at this surprise, I placed it next to my luggage and smiled at how things worked out.

part 3 tomorrow
nannette

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