All the Intutitive Ladies

It is time to begin the story of how I ended up here...

It is time because today, I spent part of my afternoon with a new friend, and she gave me hope.

Making friends when you're little isn't all that difficult. There are at least twenty-five other little hellions locked in a classroom with you all day,and consequently, you are bound to seek refuge with one of them from a booger eating classmate at one point. Presto, instant friendship. Making friends when you're older isn't always that easy, until you come across the one who will seek refuge with you from the booger eating adults out there.

So, this post, I dedicate to Lisa. 

There comes a point in your adult life when you realize you have got to stop judging. At least, I hope you realize this. It seems as if we are all handed imaginary gavels when we turn eighteen and we proceed to use them with fury. I dropped that gavel hundreds upon hundreds of times before reaching this stage of my life. I was the "discerning" type of judge.

Having been an observer all my life, when I received my "gavel" I continued to observe, only now I threw my "two cents" in. I'd watch something about life happening and then I could say, "Well, blankety-blank happened because blankety-blank and blank, so there you go." Only, I had no clue, and more importantly, I had no right to make any type of judgment.


So, as you read these next few posts, remember the wise words of my new friend, Lisa when she reminds us all that we have to stop judging because... you just don't know.

I have woman's intuition. (And, there went all the male readers...) The first time I realized this I was very little. My sister and I were playing gymnastics on our front lawn and just before I took off for my tumbling pass, a distinct voice came from somewhere inside me and told me to turn around. A force of some sort within me knew that I had to turn around. I'd never heard this voice before, nor had I experienced that sensation before, yet I trusted it enough to turn around.

I turned around and directly at my tiny heals was a pitbull. Panting, he looked up at me, and I down him. For a split second we stared at each other and that voice told me, "He will not follow you. Now, run." I snapped out of whatever cosmic cloud I was in, screamed my ever-loving brains out, took off running, did not tumble, grabbed my sister, ran into the house, and slammed the door. I could have cared ales about the dog, I was mystified by that voice and that sensation.

I could fill up post after post about my woman's intuition after that point, but I'd like to keep some of those male readers, so instead let me tell you about the day I stopped listening to it, and the day I had to start listening to it again.

The day I stopped listening to my woman's intuition was a spring day four years ago. My husband, daughter, and I were looking for a spot in the Mendard's parking lot. My daughter, who was just a little over one at the time had been happily pointing out all the birdies to us. I was talking.

That fall I'd had a miscarriage. It was sad and sudden, and I didn't really know how to deal with it. I just did what I'd done any other time something bad had happened. I talked about it, and went on. Which was how , I found myself driving through that Menard's parking lot, talking about it, again.

Only, this time, I was explaining to my husband that we should start trying to have another baby. I hadn't talked about that before because I wasn't ready. You're probably thinking, "How bizarre, she's talking about this while running errands." But, remember, we're trying not to judge anymore.

As I babbled away, the voice/sensation rose within me. It began faintly, like it always did and it grew louder until it was shouting at me, "Look at him. Something is wrong. Stop talking. He is not there." So, I looked, and I saw what the voice said, but I told the voice to go to hell. I did not want to hear it. I did not want to believe it. Because I knew, I knew, my husband was gone.

A parking spot appeared and we made our way into Menard's. We linked arms with our daughter as she splashed in the spring puddles. We were a family, for now.

It wasn't until one very late night almost two years later that I'd listen to my woman's intuition again. That is a very long time to go without listening to yourself.