Story One

THE BRIDGE

On a trip to California, Mary and I flew to San Francisco and rented a fun and spiffy, yellow Mustang convertible. Our plan was to travel up the beautiful coastline and then turn inland toward the Napa Valley area. We wanted to be there before nightfall and spend the night where we had reservations. Neither of us likes to drive in unknown territory after dark (this was before GPS), but it evolved in a way that this was not going to happen.

Traveling with our map directions, we hit a heavy rainstorm. After driving too long on a road that the map indicated would only be for two miles, we realized we had missed our turn. We were on a highway traveling at least fifty miles per hour, trying to find a place to turn around. I could see what looked like a small bridge to the right. Thinking I could make the short turn onto the bridge, back up, and quickly make a U-turn, I began braking. I was trying not to skid while keeping sight of the one-lane bridge with the headlights. I turned, afraid we would go off the bridge in the opposite direction if I wasn't careful. I had underestimated the distance, and the car was left straddled between land and the side of the bridge.

Mary was leaning over to the left, almost on top of me, and when I asked her what she was doing, she exclaimed that there was a huge drop-off on her side. I tried to look down on the right and could see in the little light left from the day that it was a long drop. My foot had been planted on the brake pedal, and my leg was shaking. We both got quiet, realizing our predicament and feeling our trembling. One false calculation, forward or backward, and we would be falling. We both asked for Grace.

"Please God, help us get on this bridge safely."

I asked Mary, "Ready?"

She said, "No, wait!" (This is her usual answer when in a jam).

We both continued to be still inside for a moment longer, and then we felt ready at the same time. I held my breath and took my foot off the brake and accelerated. We didn't know how in the world it was possible—but we were on the bridge. Not only were we on the small bridge, the car was straight! I put the car in park and we both breathed a sigh of relief and tried to calm down. We both knew we were sitting in the hands of Grace. Something carried us onto that bridge and straightened the car. We were sitting in safety, now ready to back straight off the bridge, get ourselves turned in the right direction, and make our way to our destination for the night. We shuddered at the thought of our families being informed that we had driven off into some deep ravine in a heavy rainstorm on a California highway. That is not something we would wish for them at all. Now, after we gave our next prayer to be able to back out onto the highway without incident, we were on our way, shaken, but awestruck.

* * *

Many of us have experienced or witnessed life-threatening situations where there was a powerful intervention that saved those involved. It cannot be explained how it happened; it just happened. Has there been a similar incident in your life? Did you recognize the Grace that was present at the time, or are you just now seeing it as you reflect back? Often, we call these "miracles" or "divine intervention." It maybe a big event or something that was seemingly small; yet Grace intervened and changed the situation. If you do not feel that something like this has happened in your life, don't worry. Grace is always there; you just need to learn to recognize her, and you will.

Story Two

THE BANK ROBBERY

Mary and I were leaving early on a Wednesday morning to join some friends in Maui, Hawaii. Given my schedule of meetings with clients on this particular Monday and Tuesday, my window of time to get the cash I needed for the trip was Saturday morning. The bank closed at noon. I awoke that morning with a long list of things to accomplish. These were the usual errands of packing and handling business details that needed to be taken care of in order to be away for about twelve days. Every time I would say to myself, "Okay, now to the bank," I would get distracted with something else. As soon as I finished with one thing, there would be another distraction, such as a phone call or a thought of something I could handle "real quick."

This kept going on and on, and I was berating myself. Cheryl, why are you not going to the bank? Time is running out. This is your only time. You have got to go to the bank! Finally, I was driving into the bank parking lot at 11:40 a.m. As I walked to the door, a policeman was standing outside and said, "Sorry, ma'am, the bank is closed." What? I shouted inside my head. Now what am I going ...

Before I could finish my thought, he explained, "There was a bank robbery going on all morning here. We have made arrangements with the other branch down the street. I will radio ahead and let them know you are on your way. They will take care of you there." I thanked the officer, and I turned to leave. As I stepped off the curb, it all made sense to me. No wonder I couldn't get to the bank; I wasn't meant to be there! When I arrived at the other bank, they were waiting for me and cashed my check. As I left, they locked the door behind me. I was the last customer of the day.

Had I arrived when I had wanted to, I could have been part of the group that the robber was holding inside, or who knows whatever else could have transpired. Instead, I kept getting delayed at home while handling other details that I needed to do for my trip, in safety and certainly not with the stress of being inside a bank with a hold-up going on. When these kinds of seemingly Grace-filled experiences occur, Mary and I say, "Thank you, Spirit!"

* * *

Grace may come into our lives and protect us in ways unexpected, and we don't always know how we are being protected. For example, on a given day and time, we may have a hunch not to drive or walk down a particular road and not know why. We may follow our intuitions, and we may never know what did or did not occur on that road. We just know we were not meant to be there. We have learned to trust our intuitions. This incident of not being able to get to the bank was one of the situations that taught me to trust my intuition and the Flow of events. I kept getting interrupted; other things kept popping up to handle. I was criticizing myself for not getting to the bank. At that time in my life, I didn't recognize Grace, Flow, and Ease. I have since learned to trust the Flow of things. There's no need to criticize myself for not getting something done in the way I think it "should" be done. Today, I set my intention of handling the details needed for the day with Grace, Flow, and Ease. I trust that there is something larger working in my life, and I am being taken care of. I make my list of the things I want to accomplish, stay focused and present to my list and day, and allow it to unfold.

Story Three

1993-CHERYL AND GRACE

In 1993, my daughter became ill. As a mother, when your child is hurting, you want to touch, massage, kiss, and ease his or her pain in any way possible. Touching her created too much pain under her skin. I was at a loss for what I could possibly do. While sharing my concerns with a friend, she said, "You might try Healing Touch." She went on to explain that this was a training program for techniques that work with the energy system of the body and help promote the body's self-healing. It was gentle and only used light touch or no touch. The program had classes in the area about every six months, and she said she would let me know when she got the next notice. The name appealed to me, and it was mostly nurses who took it at the time, so I felt it had some possibility and was worth pursuing.

Over the months, we never made mention of it again. One Tuesday, I thought of it and called my friend to see if she had gotten any notice. She immediately replied, "Oh, I forgot to tell you, it's this weekend! It starts Friday night." I had a full weekend schedule, but I took the information regarding whom to contact and decided to see if it was possible for me to attend, and it was. Not knowing anything about Healing Touch, I still felt this was the right thing to do, and I was excited.

By Saturday afternoon of the workshop, I was in tears. This was the perfect place for me. I had no idea that I had always interpreted my world through energy. I had no context to put it in, but this was my language, my world.

I eagerly took what I had learned home, and it helped my daughter's pain. I was so grateful! I no longer felt completely helpless in assisting her. My two sons loved it. They began telling their friends, who began telling their parents, who began telling other family members and friends, and before long, it set in place my life's work. It was pure Grace.

* * *

In addition to there being Grace that carried me into a whole new way of life, there was Flow. There was a Flow of events: further training, people I met, new adventures exploring other healing modalities, and so on. There was also Ease. Although it was hard work and required dedication, there was an Ease to it all. I loved what I was doing. It was my passion.

Where in your life have you had a similar experience? Have you ever had an opportunity come to you that was a surprise? Or you felt like it just came from "nowhere?" When you look at the word nowhere, you may see that it can also say now here. The new opportunity is "now here." Sometimes we need the courage to follow these openings of opportunity to see where they lead us. If we at least explore the opportunity, we can still decide if it isn't right for us. That's okay. We have the right to say yes, and we have the right to say no, and we also have the right to change our minds.

Story Four

WE'RE THE ACE TO EACH OTHER'S GRACE

A wonderful story of Grace is the friendship that Mary and I share. After I had completed the Healing Touch certification program, I wanted to take Healing Touch to Romania to work with orphaned children. I was involved with a nonprofit organization that was doing work there, and as board members, we were encouraged to create a project we were passionate about. Often, board members would partner with someone else's project, if it called to them. The meeting was in Houston, Texas. Board members and project directors were there from all over the United States and the world. This project had been my dream for a couple of years, and now it was time to present it. I had no idea how this would go over since many of the people were from medical backgrounds and Healing Touch was considered complimentary/alternative medicine (CAM), and to some, it could be too "woo-woo." It was definitely leading-edge and not fully understood by most.

With a quivering voice and shaking knees and hands, I put my idea out on the table. I was asked a few questions, and people were open, enthusiastic, and encouraging. A soft, kind voice broke through the discussion and said, "I'd like to partner with you on this project." She went on to explain that she was a nurse in Philadelphia and that she was just wrapping up her medical project in Romania. She was looking for what was next, and she felt this was it. I was thrilled, to say the least!

Two months later, Mary joined me and a small group of others in San Antonio, Texas, where we had our first meeting for the Healing Touch Romania Project. Mary also launched her training in Healing Touch that weekend. Five months later, we took our first team of Healing Touch instructors, a translator, and a filmmaker to Constanta, Romania to work with the children in an orphanage and train their caregivers in Healing Touch. This was the beginning of many trips over a ten-year period. It was also the beginning of a very special and endearing relationship.

When I was going through a divorce, Mary offered me a place to stay. She gave me space to heal, "just be," reflect, and regroup. She said, "Come and stay until you figure it out." From partnering with Mary on the Healing Touch Romania project, I knew I wanted to work with her. I had the utmost respect for her as a nurse and for her knowledge and professionalism, as well as her abilities as a Healing Touch practitioner. I felt she would be a wonderful addition to my private practice, wherever I began that again.

We began that practice together in Bala Cynwyd, Pennsylvania, with Mary continuing her nursing career as well. We immediately understood and appreciated that few people are blessed with such a friendship. Astrologers and others have told us that we have shared many lifetimes and work together. This certainly rings true to both of us. We have traveled the world together, had so much fun, and shared so much laughter. When I went to stay with her "until I figured it out," I ended up staying. We still travel together, work together, and share a home together, and we even share our dog, Molly. We know of others that have tried this and it didn't work. It requires a very special friendship, and it requires Grace. Grace and destiny were present when Mary spoke up and said, "I want to partner with you on this project." Those nine words completely changed both of our lives in ways that neither one of us could have even begun to fathom at that moment. It has been a remarkable journey together that is still unfolding today.

Story Five

HURRICANE EMILY COZUMEL, MEXICO

In July 2005, we traveled to Cozumel, Mexico to attend Cheryl's nephew's wedding. The wedding was to take place in Playa del Carman, Mexico, which is on the Yucatan Peninsula south of Cancun. Cozumel is an island just across from Playa del Carman and is another of our favorite places. We decided to stay in Cozumel and ride the ferry back and forth. We arrived on a Tuesday, and the wedding would be on Thursday. Family members were leaving on that Friday, but we would stay for another week and vacation in Cozumel. Before leaving the states, there was a tropical storm that was expected to form into a hurricane just off the coast of South America, and it was headed for the Caribbean. Cheryl had grown up in Texas and was no stranger to hurricanes; nor was I, having grown up in Florida. We knew they could change course at any moment and go anywhere from that far south. We decided we would keep an eye on it.

Each evening, as we passed the hotel desk where we were staying, we would ask for an update on the storm. The usual reply was, "No problem, lady. If it becomes a problem, we will let you know." That was the reply Wednesday, Thursday, and even Friday evening around 10:00 p.m. Early Saturday morning, Cheryl woke up feeling uncomfortable; she needed to know what was going on with the storm. She dressed and went to the front desk. There was a sign posted on the elevator door that read, "Emergency! You must evacuate the island immediately! "What? How could we go from," No problem lady," to "You must evacuate immediately!" in only eight hours? The elevator door opened to a lot of hustle and bustle and tension in the lobby. Bellmen were scurrying quickly in many different directions with oversized loads of luggage. The TV screen in the bar was showing the direction of the storm, which was a direct hit for Cozumel unless it swerved. It was still southward in the Caribbean, so that was possible, but the track of the storm had not swerved at all so far. It was a straight-shooting hurricane. Still stunned at how we arrived at this moment without warning, Cheryl made her way to the front desk line and listened as women behind the desk told people to get out and go home. The hurricane was expected to make landfall Sunday. They gave Cheryl the phone number to check with the airlines and told her that we would need to take our luggage, board the ferry, and then find transportation to the Cancun airport.

We had initially flown into Cozumel. Cheryl called the airline. After many stressful tries and long waits to talk with someone, she was told that the United States was not sending any extra planes for evacuation, but they could get us a flight from Cozumel the following day (Sunday) at 2:00 p.m. At that point, Hurricane Emily could be a category 4 storm and was due to strike by 8:00 p.m. on Sunday. Really? Flights could be happening at 2:00 on the day a major hurricane was predicted to strike? What about the building wind speeds and gusts? Cheryl had a private pilot's license and felt it could be risky to count on a flight at that time, and we certainly didn't want to end up stranded at the airport.