I’ve apparently been seeing signs all my life, but it wasn’t until recently that I started paying attention and finding the faith to follow them. It’s crazy when I think back: More than fifteen years ago now, as I was sitting in the Bolivian countryside underneath the stars, a sign that seemed to reach down from the heavens told me to become an ER doctor.
When I returned from my journey and told my medical school colleagues I finally knew my calling was emergency medicine, most laughed when they heard the sky had spoken this truth, especially since I had never even considered the field in my four years of training. I’m so glad I listened to the sign instead of their jeering, hurtful jokes.
Unfortunately, I didn’t always stay open to these life arrows, even though they remained all around me. Allowing that very analytical, “doctor” side of my brain to dominate my early career, I spent a lot of time second-guessing that brilliant, creative, and intuitive part.
And so, there were many signs that I ignored that ultimately led me up and down a pretty windy path. The beautiful news is that when I allowed both sides of my cranium to become balanced and open to the intelligence of the heart, the journey became so much clearer and magical. And the signs, well they were everywhere.
So as I share with you my most recent clues that have led me to a completely new life, in a new part of the world, I encourage you to keep an open mind and heart to your own signs. We all have that magic. We only need to acknowledge, listen, see, and surrender to our individual path. It is so divinely guided.
And so the story begins….
“Does this mean anything to you?” she questioned placing its dark, heavy power into my hands, coaxing me to feel its strength and its weight.
My eyes were filled with tears as I heard my voice crack in disbelief through a whisper, “Yes, but first I need to know one thing. Where on earth did you get this rock?” I already knew the answer. I just wasn’t ready to believe.
I had been seeing Sarene now for several months. Recognizing that I had been traumatized as an ER doctor in all that I had witnessed, professional mental help became a necessity to make sure I was processing my own pain. That is why I searched her out.
Instantly knowing she was my guru when I saw a picture of her standing in front of Machu Pichu, just as I had done after the heavens had spoken to me in Bolivia and then on to Peru, I made my first appointment and knew she had been put in my path for deep reasons. The insights that she brought through her energy work far exceeded her master’s degree in counseling. And her aid went beyond healing any trauma I had experienced in the emergency department.
When I bounced into her office that morning, I really had nothing to talk about. My life was now amazing and completely on track as far as I was concerned. My traveling job was fulfilling and lucrative, my family was healthy and happy, and I was in love with the man that I would grow old with.
“Awesome, then let’s do some energy work,” she calmly responded.
Giddy with bliss, I jumped onto her table, closed my eyes and let the magic begin, still not quite understanding her sage expertise.
My body always felt things in these sessions. Tingles, burning, visions, peace all became a part of this work. It all meant something and she usually had the explanation.
The buzz began instantaneously. The best way I can describe that initial feeling is one of subtle electricity, like you sense after a lightning storm when it makes your arm hair stand slightly at attention. But immediately, my lower abdomen started cramping. This was a new sensation. It reminded me of the onset of labor. It was like that first twinge of a contraction. There was no intense pain. Just the feeling that something big was about to happen.
And then I saw her face in my mind. It was a nurse who had saved my mother’s life several years back.
I had just seen her paramedic husband in the middle of a small Georgia ER where I was working. After many hugs, he had delivered the news that his wife’s own mother had finally died of metastatic brain cancer. Since then Mandy had left her adrenaline-filled, well-paying flight job and had become a hospice nurse. She was helping others live as pain-free as possible until they transitioned, just as she had done for the woman that brought her into this world. I could not think of a better calling for this intensely caring woman.
My rational brain is always working during these sessions even though I do my best to just breathe and relax. And so, my mind decided that I was seeing her face in an effort to remind me to just reach out and thank her for the care and love she had shown my own mother in such a critical time. I still laugh at myself when I think about how irrational our so-called “rational” brains can be.
When I lifted off the table like a feather, I immediately shared my experience. Sarene took it all in and then began with how she had come to choose her guiding tool for my session. Apparently, she always asks the universe for direction to assist in my healing. This morning an object had spoken to her. It strongly urged her to bring it forth. Sarene just didn’t know how exactly it would be used because it was so heavy. She knew it was too dense to physically place on my body.
She reported that the black rock immediately went to my pelvis. Sarene decided to just rub it gently next to that region and instantly learned it’s significance.
“Do you feel how heavy this rock is?”
Holding it as if was kryptonite, I could barely release a “yes” as I was in awe and mostly speechless of its presence in my hands, knowing exactly where this tool had originated without even asking.
“Charlotte, I am sensing that you are very heavy with guilt and I am picking up five stones of blame. It seems to be originating from your womb. I have been asked to tell you that any decision made out of guilt, is not a good decision. Does this mean anything to you?”
Needing confirmation for my left brain but intuitively already knowing the answer, I asked her to verify where she had obtained this large, heavy stone.
“It is a lava rock from Hawaii.”
Laughing and knowing I had never mention my Hawaiian connection, I replied, “Of course it is. I already knew that. When were you there?”
Sarene smiled, “I wasn’t. A hospice nurse brought it back to me from the Big Island of Hawaii. She thought I could use it to heal someone. That someone was apparently you.”
“Oh my god,” tears were forming as I almost yelled,
“Have I told you? Have I told you my connection to Hawaii? How that place healed me when I was at the lowest point in my life?
How when I returned five years later that I had finally found true love?
How that man had just two weeks ago told me we could now move to the Big Island because he had been offered a job, the only thing that I thought was holding us back?
Have I told you how I dismissed this all because of my guilt?
Those five stones of womb guilt are the only thing truly holding me back from living my dream.
“I feel so very guilt-ridden to take my daughter from her father, her aunt who is her second mother, her friends, her grandmother, and her cousins. Jesus, I had no idea this is why I came to see you today.”
“No, Charlotte, you never mentioned Hawaii,” she slyly smiled, also in awe.
“Well, I should also mention it’s my daughter’s birthday today.”
Then she gave a big belly laugh and exclaimed, “Of course it is!”
Her words echoed in my head as I drove to pick up my daughter from school to take her to her big birthday surprise.
She came sprinting out of her classroom full of excitement. I thought it was because it was her ninth birthday and she had eaten a few extra cupcakes that I had sent to share with her friends.
No, her excitement and pride stemmed from the drawing and story she had been working on for weeks that she was now allowed to share. She could barely contain herself. Directing me not to peak or speak until she was done, she read the entire essay before divulging her drawing. The class had been asked to describe in words and art one of their favorite memories.
The drawing and story were unmistakable. Again, just like the lava rock, I knew what she was about to reveal before the words were uttered or the illustration exposed. There we were, two stick figures, with over-sized goggles, on the beach last summer, holding hands in Hawaii as a sea turtle swam up and surprised us. I knew what I had to do at that very moment.
I did not know how or why but we would be moving to Hawaii. The signs were clear. And so I leaped.
And just so I didn’t forget, little reminders were continuously being sent any time I would question or fear how I could possibly manage such a big move. Hawaiian signs were everywhere.
Hawaii showed up even in the middle of a small town in Texas. It was the first place I traveled to for work once i seriously made the decision to move. Checking into the hospital to get briefly oriented before starting my shift, a kind and beautiful woman met me at the door to act as my guide around the hospital.
“Have you ever been to Abilene, Texas?” she asked.
“No, never even heard of it,” I replied.
Laughing with a familiar, calming smile, “Yes, but once you get here, most never leave. Look at me. I’ve been here twenty-six years.”
“Where are you from originally?” starting to believe I was psychic once she confirmed what I already felt.
“The most beautiful place on earth… Hawaii,” as she handed me a small Hawaiian flower to wear in my hair or on my scrubs. I had apparently arrived on Aloha Friday in Abilene, Texas and she had the entire staff donned in plumeria. As she escorted me to her office, I took in all the Aloha décor and felt I would really be there by the summer, in just a few short months.
Reality hit as I was returning home to Florida. My family from Mexico had just picked up and moved their entire life to help take care of my enormous home and my daughter, so that I could continue my lucrative ER travel job. It would be egotistical of me to just pick up and leave. No, I would have to wait at least a year or two before this move could take place, even though I kept getting this nudge that summertime was my moving date.
“Please sit down. I need to talk to you,” were the first words I heard as I walked into my home.
My aunt had never looked so serious. I was sure someone had died.
“We have met with an immigration lawyer. There is no way we can stay. The government is not giving out any work visas to Mexicans due to the political climate right now. He has advised us to return in June when our tourist visa is up. I’m so sorry.”
She wasn’t really expecting a huge wave of laughter from me or a big hug but that’s what she got. The only thing holding me back now from the move was my soul mate. What would I do about her?
I had a connection to my home that felt like true love. The instant I stepped foot on the grounds of this hundred-year-old craftsman-style mansion, I knew I was home. The stipendiaries in her acquisition still marvel most and even myself. I truly believed I would be buried in the backyard when I died and would become a part of the spirit that lived there.
What would Grace do? She was the original owner. An eccentric actress from Chicago, during the Great Depression she had fallen in love with an oil tycoon who coaxed her from the flamboyant city life to a tiny town in the middle of Florida to build their lavish lives together. Grace was known for her generosity to the community, her outspokenness, and outrageous parties. She was a woman before her time. I had read all about her, loved her, and felt connected to her soul.
The men who sold me her home also gave me her portrait that they had found hanging in an old church as a housewarming gift. They felt she should remain in the home, overlooking the lake and my family. Most that entered my living room commented on our physical resemblance but I had always felt it was much more than that. We were kindred spirits. How could I ever sell this home?
And then it hit me as I was staring into her eyes hanging on my wall, the same ones that I said “thank you” to every day. I had forgotten where this portrait had been taken. It was on one of her many anniversaries. It was in Hawaii.
I knew exactly what Grace was doing. She was helping me get to Hawaii. The sale of her home would not only cover my expenses but give me a large cushion to just live and be and write and enjoy my daughter.
Now all I had to do was just get myself thousands of miles away to the Pacific so that I could find a place to live.
The next day I got a phone call from my favorite recruiter.
“Hey, Dr. Charfen! Any way you can go to Hawaii next month? One of the doctors just got sick and they need some coverage until he recuperates. All your expenses are paid of course.”
And so yes, I believe in signs.
Image: Pixabay.com
