miracles

* I haven’t told many people this story for obvious reasons. Let’s just keep it between you and me.;-)

Perhaps the shortest and most powerful prayer in the human language is help.
~Father Thomas Keating

Men show up at the foot of my bed. I can’t help it, it’s a gift.

No, really.
Once, when I was living with my sister and a roommate, a “drunk as a skunk” friend of my roommate’s boyfriend got lost on his way to the bathroom, and I woke up to find him at the foot of my bed, mumbling incoherently – with no pants on.
If I’d had a gun, he’d be dead. And THAT is the end of my anti gun story.

The second time it happened was even weirder, if you can believe it.
It was during the time of my spiritual awakening, so I was living alone on the ninth floor of a high-rise, crazy, mystical shit was happening, and I felt like hell.
I had my pocket shaman, his team, and pennies in my shoes to keep me grounded.
I wasn’t sleeping much, but when I’d laid down to try, I would beg God or whoever was on duty that late at night, for peace of mind.
My prayer was always: Dear God, please help me to handle this.
Someone told me that prayer was magic, so I would whisper it softly, every night, and wait for relief.

One particularly bad night, after I finally managed to nod off, I was startled awake by some commotion at my window.
I actually had a whole wall of windows, which looked out over the Hollywood Hills and the double towers of Century City. The view at night was ridiculously stunning, (if I had been able to appreciate anything at all), and because I was up so high, nine stories, I never closed the blinds.

I heard the rattling and scraping, but in my stupor I had incorporated it into a dream.
When I finally did open my eyes, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
I blinked. And blinked. And blinked again.
Then I tried to jump up…but I was paralyzed.
There, looking me straight in the eye, as he made his way one foot, then one arm, then sloowwwwly the rest of his body – was a man.

“Am I still asleep?” I was asking myself, still blinking and trying to move.
My mind was racing and my heart was pounding.
“Was it the drugs? Oh yeah, I’m not on any.”
“This can’t be real, I must be hallucinating.”

Never once breaking eye contact, the man walked ever so deliberately to the end of my bed.
Something was wrapped around him as he crawled though the window, it looked like a cape. Once he came to a stop, facing me; with a bit of dramatic flair, I saw the glistening of snowy white feathers, and I heard a very distinctive swooooooosh as he unfurled the most massive set of… wait for it…wings!
They were enormous and majestic with their etherial,shimmery,almost iridescent feathers. I’ll never forget the sound of them. Have I mentioned how huge they were? They filled the room.
The wings definitely made an impression.

He was an angel. At the foot of my bed.

“Oh it’s an angel – well, that’s okay, um, wtf? NO it’s not! What does this mean? Shit. It can’t be good.” (Sample of my train of thought at the time).

I was scared, but I can’t say I was terrified. You have to remember, some weird shit was going down in my life at that time on a daily basis, but this? This took the cake. A visitation. Like right out of the bible. Not to be irreverent but, Holy cow!
How did I rate an angelic drop in? Surely, he had better places to be, like the Vatican, in a war zone, with the dying…’uh oh, am I dying?’

I was still paralyzed but wide, wide awake. I’d never been so awake in my life. I was almost hyper aware.

“What would help you feel less afraid?” He asked in his manly, telepathic angel voice.
“My cat” I answered in my mind. (for the love of God, why didn’t I say George Clooney?) I had given my cat to my sister because I was traveling so much back then, and I missed him desperately.

As fast as you could say abracadabra, Moomie was on my pillow, purring his trademark motorboat purr in my ear. I could move my hand up to touch and hold his furry paw – but only my hand. Believe me, I tried to make a run for it.

Then I fell asleep.

What?! I know. I couldn’t believe it either.
I hadn’t fallen asleep that fast for months…and there was an ANGEL AT THE FOOT OF MY BED.
What can I say? His presence was actually very comforting, and with that angel telepathy he was reassuring me, telling me I was safe and everything was going to be okay.

I woke up a couple of times and looked toward the end of the bed, and there he was, standing vigil, wings spread out wide, showing off. That surprised me. He must have drawn the short straw, and been relegated to pull an all-nighter.

I wished I’d asked questions. I’m sure I must have, it IS my nature, but I don’t remember any conversation between us, only his reassurance.

The next time I opened my eyes, the room was light – and he was gone, my angel intruder. So was my cat, darn it.
But I felt rested and safe and somehow…special.

It was a turning point in my awakening journey. I started to feel better. I would pray to HIM every night now. For comfort, for peace, for a return visit.

So far no such luck, but occasionally I feel him. We have a “thing“.

Sending you angel love,
Xox

PS. I went to the library (pre-computer) and looked at books about angel visits, you know what makes the biggest impression on everyone? Yep, those wings.

Listen to it:
https://soundcloud.com/jbertolus/angl-at-the-foot-of-my-bed

As we rushed out though the smokey maze of the Casino at the old Sahara Hotel in Las Vegas, it suddenly hit me that he had once again forgotten to give me my bonus. It stopped me in my tracks.
Damn him!

We had just finished a week-long, Estate Jewelry Show.
I was bone tired from being on my feet for over twelve hours a day – in heels, and to add insult to injury, our plane reservation left us no time to eat before the flight home, so to top it all off—I was hangry.
In other words—I was in NO mood.

We had grossed over one million dollars – in a week, the two of us, and I was about to fly home empty-handed, once again.

You see, I had a boss that hated to pay me. He just did.
And no carefully scripted notes, or heartfelt talks, or angry outbursts on my part had done anything to change that.

I had coached him repeatedly on the merits of showing respect. It wasn’t difficult, all he had to do was pay me. And not make me ask for my money, which I HATED.

What would this be? The third time that day I’d had to ask him for my money? I was quite familiar with this humiliating fucktard, power play, and I was sick of it! Listen, I had done everything I could think of to sidestep this idiocy! Even after years of his bonus structure consisting of whatever loose cash he had in his pocket, not his fat, overstuffed money clip mind you—but instead his pocket change, I had won one battle by finally getting him to agree to a pre-set amount.

“Why are you stopping?” he yelled impatiently. His aluminum wheelie suitcase, a rectangular R2D2, skipped from wheel to wheel, trying to keep its balance. I could’ve sworn it looked back in my direction with a “help me” face.

He continued his frantic march through the casino toward the door, not even turning around to see where I was.

“ I’d love to get my bonus before we leave?” I asked for the third time, running to keep up. I knew that if I let it slide, even for a day or two, the odds of getting it would become so slim even a Vegas bookie would pass on that bet.

I wasn’t sure he’d heard me when, in one fluid motion, he arced to the right, making a wide, sweeping, u-turn back in my direction. Then he reached into his murse (man purse) and dumped a handful of gambling chips in my direction. Surprised, I reached with out with both hands in time to catch most of them, but watched several make a break for it, rolling on their sides with great momentum underneath the dollar slots nearby.

“That should cover it; now hurry up, we don’t want to miss our plane.”

I stood there red-faced and flabbergasted, knowing I didn’t have any time to cash them in. Quickly, I shoved the chips in every pocket of my purse, and proceeded to get down on my hands and knees to see if I could retrieve the ones that had made their escape.

The pot-bellied, middle-aged woman, who was dangling a cigarette with two inches of ash from her lipstick stained mouth, straddled two stools in front of three slot machines. Without ever looking away from the rapidly rotating numbers she was counting on to change her life, her foot kicked the chips my way, like a bedroom slippered hockey stick.
“Uh, thanks” I mumbled, crawling on the ground in my skirt and heels, totally in awe of her concentration.

“Janet, let’s go!” He bellowed from inside the automatic revolving glass exit doors and then turned right to join the cab line.

I could hear those damn plastic chip clinking together in my bag as I ran to catch my flight back to LA.

In the hour that it takes to get from Vegas to LA, I began to seethe with rage.
Not only had he made me repeatedly ask him, he had literally thrown poker chips at me in lieu of my bonus! I had never felt so disrespected In. My. Life.

I don’t know about you, but when I get in touch with that level of anger, I have a tendency to burst into flames, tears.
Hunched down in my middle seat toward the back of the plane, I cried and cried and cried. Big, wet, sloppy tears.

I decided I would rather die than take the prearranged ride home to Park La Brea with he and his wife. I know that’s what we had agreed to but seriously, someone was going to die if I got in that car with him— and I was way too overdressed to go to jail.

As we walked out to the curb, I saw his wife’s car to the left and without making a sound, (or so much as an indecent hand gesture) I made a beeline to the right and jumped into a cab that just happened to be waiting there in front of me.
The moment the door shut… I lost it.

I began to sob like a little girl, gasping for breath, snot running down my face.
There I was, trapped in a horrible working situation with no solution in sight. What do you do when you ask someone repeatedly to treat with respect and they blatantly disregard that?

I know what you’re thinking, quit! I couldn’t quit. I had the kind of career everyone wanted. Travel, great pay, jewelry, prestige. Which led to a lot of financial obligations, AND I was single.
Wahhhhhhhhhhhh. That always made me cry even harder.

As we wound our way through the late night traffic on LaCienega, I could see the dark, soulful eyes of the cab driver, looking at me in the rear view mirror. If I hadn’t already guessed that he was from India, with his deep brown skin and white turban, his accent gave it away as he asked softly,

“Beautiful lady, why you cry?”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, I’m just feeling so saaaaaaaad, I don’t know what to do.”

I could see his eyes searching my face in the rear view mirror as I accidentally wiped snot into my hair with the back of my hand.
“Beautiful lady, don’t be sad, it can’t be that bad,” he cooed in his soothing, heavily accented voice.

“Ohhhhhhh it is, I think I hate my boss…he doesn’t show me any respect…he paid me with…”

I started to wail louder, “With poker chiiiiiiiiiiiiips!”

For dramatic effect, I grabbed a couple out of my bag and threw them on the seat.

“Beautiful lady, you have God’s respect and that’s all that matters.”
Really? I guess he had a point.
The cab slowly came to a stop in front of my high-rise apartment building.

Since I had cried the entire ride home, I had to scramble around to find my bag and scrounge for cab fare. As I did, the lovely turbaned cabbie grabbed my suitcase from the driver’s side backseat where I had launched it, opened my door, and wheeled my bag inside the lobby, depositing it in front of the elevator doors. When he returned to the cab, I had composed myself enough to hand him his fare.

“Here you go, thank you for being so kind to me.” I said sheepishly through the tissue that was attempting to clean the river of snot from the side of my face.

“Oh no beautiful lady, you keep that. This ride is on me.”
And before I could argue with him or even thank him, he pulled away into the dark Los Angeles night. As I watched his tail lights fade into the distance, I realized a couple of things that gave me goosebumps.
They still do.

Number one: I never told him where I lived.

I just got in the cab and fell apart while he drove me home — to Park La Brea, which is a labyrinth of apartments, turnabouts and one way streets. Even with the best directions from the back seat, many a cab driver has made a wrong turn and been spit back out onto Wilshire Boulevard.

Number two: There are ten high rises. How is it that he had he managed to navigate all the twists and turns and one way streets inside the complex to deposit me right at my door?
The only answer? He was an angel. Plain and simple.

When I finally managed to come out of my stupor and slowly walk inside to the elevator, I noticed he had propped the doors open with my bag and pushed the button to the ninth floor!

My floor! How did he know?

I really believe that angels are everywhere and only show themselves when we need them.

THAT is the story of my Angel in a Turban.

Carry on,
Xox

“Inaction breeds doubt and fear. Action breeds confidence and courage. If you want to conquer fear, do not sit home and think about it. Go out and get busy.
Most of the important things in the world have been accomplished by people who have kept on trying when there seemed to be no help at all.”
– Dale Carnegie

I had about one hour until I had to be back at the store to let Homi go pick up her kids from school.
She would open the place up and work until two, a few days a week, giving me some time.
Time to run errands, pick frames, go to the bank, look for new merchandise, and worry.

By that point, late 2009, I was a professional worrier.

“They” say if you do something for ten thousand hours, that qualifies you as a master.
I can attest to that. I had mastered the art of worry, which is using your imagination to create things you DON’T want.
I was so brilliant at it, that an avalanche of unwanted shit was beginning to suffocate me.

The store was underwater financially and I was drowning. 

But life goes on, and we were having some friends over that night for a pot luck dinner in the backyard. I had used my morning to shop for food, buy candles, straighten up the place and get myself organized enough to come home at six and entertain.

I wasn’t in the mood to act happy, but I was going to fake it until I could make it.

Just as long as nobody asked me about the store, because if they did I was so tender and close to tears, the floodgates could open, run my mascara, and ruin a good time.
‘I’ll just change the subject, that’s what I’ll do’ I told myself.
That would be my version of self preservation.

We all agree that when we ask someone how they’re doing – we don’t REALLY want to know, right?

Things had gone faster than expected that morning, smoothly even, so I put the vacuum away, grabbed a handful of nuts that I’d put in a bowl for that night, and decided to lay down on the bed in the guest room. I was so deeply exhausted, I had one hour to regroup and maybe actually sleep instead of think.
When I laid my head down, I stated to relax.
Maybe because it was light outside, I could feel my face unclench, my hands open and my stomach unknot itself.
Darkness is worry’s ally, they double team you, and take you down. A daytime nap feels friendly, comforting almost.

I always say a mantra when I lay down. I can’t help it, I’ve done it for so many years it’s a habit. I’m not even sure if I can lay down without doing it.

That afternoon as exhaustion overtook me, I started repeating over and over, 
I SURRENDER
I SURRENDER
I SURRENDER
‘I can’t do this anymore, I give it to you, God, take it from me.’
I SURRENDER
‘I’m tired, and I give up.’
I pictured throwing my hands up over my head with great resignation.
‘I give up.‘
I SURRENDER.

We had our dinner party that night, it was relaxed and really nice.
Because people were over, I put my phone on silent, thew it in my purse and stowed my purse inside the closet; so I never heard it ring or all the texts coming in from midnight on – and there were MANY.

That night just before twelve, a giant water line broke on Coldwater Canyon and somehow filled my store with four and a half feet of water, changing THAT situation forever.
Blissfully unaware, for the first time in months, I slept like a baby.
Be careful what you pray for…..

A couple of days later….
My intuition had delivered a directive: go talk to my beautiful friend, whose also a counselor, Diana, have her help me process the turn of events, and have her do a meditation with me. In the meditation she guided me to a place of my choosing, to meet with someone with more wisdom than myself, someone who could give me a little insight, because I was in a quandary.

What do I do NOW?

We sat cross legged on the floor, across from each other, knees touching, eyes closed, as she guided me to a special place.
I saw myself in white robes in a kind of amphitheater, with tiers of stone seating. It felt like Ancient Greece to me. I was a great orator, and this place felt like home.

“Do you see anyone there with you?” Diana asked.
I didn’t.
“We called in someone wise, someone high above you, to help; they should be there.”
Finally, I saw a male figure approaching, he didn’t feel like any big deal to me, although Diana kept insisting he was.
“We called in someone very wise, very high up, that’s who he is.”
“Nope. He’s no big deal, we’re the same.” I continued to tell her.
“Janet, stop it, ask him to help you. What does he have to say?”
When I did that he came into focus.
Tears began to roll down my cheeks.
I had a hard time speaking, I was so overcome with emotion.
“Oh…..I’m kneeling down before him now, he has his hand on my head….. he’s my father?”
I was sobbing now.
“Not my dad – my father. Diana, he has a trident?
Oh…..He’s raising my chin to look him in the eyes….”
He looked at me with so much love and understanding.
“My daughter” he said, “I heard your prayer.
You may move Heaven and Earth, but I MOVE WATER.”

I can’t remember who said it first, but both Diana and myself said softly, “Poseidon”
Then I started to half laugh, half cry, while we both sat there wrapping our brains around what had just happened.

Great.

Does insurance cover Poseidon inspired flooding?

What do I tell Raphael? ‘Hey babe, you’re never gonna believe this, but Poseidon is my daddy and he took out the store because I prayed for help.’

Remember that parable from the other day about the man and the flood?
The answer to your prayers may not always look how you expect.

Love, Poseidon’s daughter,
Xox

for your listening pleasure 😉
https://soundcloud.com/jbertolus/whos-your-daddy-mines-poseidon

“Miracles are like meatballs because nobody can exactly agree on what they are made of, where they come from, or how often they should appear.”
― Lemony Snicket

Hi my loves,
Here’s another WTF Friday miracle story. And it’s a GOOD one.
It’s been in my head, writing itself for days. I haven’t thought about it for over twenty years so it’s persistence proves to me that it’s a tale that wants to be told.

It shows how the Universe will take care of us NO MATTER WHAT when we are on our path. 

That being said, I will endeavor to tell it as I remember it, without embellishment, exactly as my mini Yoda, pocket-shaman relayed it to me.

He told me the story one rainy afternoon as he was brewing a pot of something that smelled like a combination of the bottom of a cat box and the inside of my high-school gym locker. He would roll his eyes and stare at me with complete exasperation, as I literally gagged that shit, I mean tea, down every day, with the promise that it would help me feel better. Remember, I wasn’t doing so well energetically at that time, and he was the humor-free shaman that the Universe had assigned to my case.

So…here goes.
Once upon a loooooong time ago, T,  (my Yoda) traveled the world for years with the intention of soaking up knowledge from different teachers and learning ancient healing techniques that in remote parts of the world are only passed down verbally.

As weeks turned to months and months to years, he had started to run out of money and was exhausted both mentally and physically.

He couldn’t remember exactly which country he was in, Nepal, he thought, when he found himself walking many hours on a rocky dirt road, looking for a place to eat and potentially stay the night.

“On that kind of journey, you often stay in local people’s homes” he explained, “Trading something you’ve gathered along the way for a bite to eat and a place to rest your weary bones.” He had collected a couple of beautiful scarves, precious beads, dried fruit, and chocolate, things that were easy to carry and could be used in lieu of currency.
He also offered a healing when appropriate.

As he tells it, he was hiking along, in a kind of walking meditation, on a steep mountain road, when he suddenly looked up and saw a tall tree next to a wall with a huge wooden door. He swears it appeared out of nowhere.

A Monastery perhaps? he thought.

He stood in front of the wooden door for a long time after knocking.

Nothing. No answer.

He knocked again, louder, three more times with no reply before he walked away.

Five or six steps up the path he thought he heard the creaking of heavy wood and straining metal. He turned around to see a very tall man in long robes standing at the entrance.

He tried all the local dialects in an attempt to communicate with the man, but to no avail.  It was then that he noticed the intricate embroidery on his robes—which meant he wasn’t a monk, so this wasn’t a monastery.

He acted more like a doorman, silently nodding and gesturing for T to go inside.

He was intrigued and decided to comply. As he walked past the giant, dandily dressed man, he was surprised to feel how much cooler it was inside the dark shadows thrown by thick stone walls.  It appeared to him to be an ancient and enormous labyrinth of rooms.  He could hear birds singing and the trickle of fountains and everywhere he looked were elaborately colored tile walls. The floors were covered with Persian rugs made of ceramic tiles as the silent gentleman-doorman led him down a long hallway to a large bed chamber that was set up like a spa.

One side of the room was dominated by a thick, cushy mattress sitting on the floor that was overtaken by tons of large pillows and surrounded by voluminous drapes of fabric.  On a round table covered in mosaic tiles was a pitcher of water with fresh limes, and bowls of figs and dates. The other side had a large step-down tub/pool with a private bathroom, which was highly unusual.  In that part of the world, the baths and toilets, which were generally holes in the ground, were most commonly shared.

The man motioned for T to put down his heavy pack and rest.

T tried to explain that he had almost no money and that even if he did he could never afford to stay in such a grand establishment, for this could never be someone’s home, it must surely be the most beautiful hotel he’d ever seen.
But before he could finish… without a sound…the man was gone.

When he sat on the bed to figure out what to do next, he realized just how bone-tired he really was. The next thing he remembered was waking up surrounded by the long shadows of dusk.
After enjoying the facilities, soaking in the deep pool of cool, clean water and putting on fresh clothes, he left the room in search of the tall quiet guy or anyone else who may be in charge so he could apologize for falling asleep and give them what little money he had left.

The place was huge, covered floor to ceiling with ornate tile which left him visually disoriented while attempting to navigate a very complicated floor plan that kept leading him back to what appeared to be a large dining room.

The long table was surrounded by many chairs and lit by the glow of numerous candelabras. It was also completely covered, end to end—with food! Steaming hot plates of saffron rice with raisins, sauteed eggplant, and different meat dishes with flat bread and fruits of every variety.

He noticed only one place setting, it was at the head of the table. This must be a feast for the owner of the establishment he thought. Good, now I can talk to someone, and maybe get a bite to eat.
The smell of all the delicious food was making his stomach churn with hunger.

Just then the silent gentleman appeared.  T took out his money and started asking if it would be possible to talk to the owner and get something to eat; but the man again motioned for him to be seated at the head of the table. Bewildered, T sat down and the man with no words started to serve him. Guessing by now that maybe the lovely man had taken a vow of silence or was profoundly deaf, he ceased talking and started eating, figuring the owner or some other guests would come along soon, (even though he hadn’t seen another soul), allowing him to clear things up.

Certainly all this incredible food wasn’t just for him.
But it was.

The way he told it, that night was some of the best food and wine he’s EVER tasted.
And it was the best bed he’s EVER slept in, and the deepest sleep he’s EVER slept.

I can’t remember exactly how he discovered it, I think he saw the date on his watch, but at some point, he realized that when he woke up at dusk that first day, he had actually slept over 24 hours and it was dusk of the next day!
“No wonder I was so hungry.” He said, laughing.

Back at the Villa, he wandered around, getting lost in its beauty, never seeing another soul. He spent his hours admiring the opulence, swimming in the pool of clear cool water, eating whatever and whenever he felt like, and resting—deeply— something he hadn’t allowed himself to do for many months.

Occasionally, he would see the quiet man whom he had stopped trying to communicate with.
They seemed to do just fine without words.

He could have stayed in this Nirvana forever, but after three days he decided to leave, lest he take advantage of his benefactor’s generosity.
As he was leaving, he wrapped all his money and some valuable red amber beads in the best scarf he had, and put it on a table by the door. It wasn’t nearly enough for all the luxury afforded him, but it was all he had.

The days of rest he’d gotten gave him a new sense of purpose and he was able to do some healings to earn money, so he continued on his journey.

He figured it was about a year later when he was passing through that part of the world again that he wanted to go back and stay at the beautiful retreat. This time he had plenty of money to pay!

He climbed the steep  and dusty road, remembering all the twists and turns until he found himself suddenly at the top.
He must have passed the place while lost deep in anticipation of the food and wine, although that seemed impossible.
He walked back down the road slowly and deliberately now, finally seeing the tree to his left….but no wall, no large wooden door, and absolutely no villa.

He stood there for a long time, doubting himself, knowing he was standing in the exact right place.

He would NEVER forget this road and that tree with the giant door and the man who never spoke.

After awhile another traveler, an old man with a skinny goat, walked into view.
As the man passed, T asked him what had happened to the grand villa that had stood right in that spot just a year ago.

“I am a very old man, and I’ve lived at the bottom of the hill all my life, and I can assure you, there has never been any building, let alone something grand on this road”.

T thanked the old man, handing him several bags of almonds, and stood there mystified for some time. Eventually, he made his way back down the hill and stayed in town with the old man and the goat.

“The Universe provides just what we need when we need it” he assured me with the conviction miracles instill in people who have been beneficiaries of just such an event.

That is just one of many, many meatball miracles that happened to him on that journey to seek wisdom. The Universe provides.

I love that story. How about you?
Xox

“Miracles can happen, even to those who are small, flammable, and dressed all in black.”
― Lemony Snicket

This being a Flash Back Friday, it gives me the opportunity to recall events, places, people and bad hair styles from my past. So, when I sat down to write, this story of a mystical experience I had back in the day came to mind.
It is just one of many I experienced back then.

If you recall, I was having a hard time of it back in the early nineties.
I had a good life. Great job, money, travel, the whole shebang, but I had opened myself up to a very life altering spiritual experience – awakening is a better word, and it had knocked me on my ass – spiritually speaking.
(I wrote a few posts about it. You can find them under We Have An Agreement in the search section of the sidebar)

I was having a hell of a time staying grounded which has its own set of problems, the worst ones being, I HATED how I felt and I could find NO joy in life.

“If this is enlightenment? It sucks and you can have it!” I’d yell to no one in particular.

It is my understanding, garnered from the very extensive and exhaustive study of ME and my experience; that the Universe in order to keep you in the game, lays a carpet studded with mystical miracles at your feet. In a blatant display of showoffery, they are so IN YOUR FACE that as whacked out and pissed off as you’ve become – you still see them.

So, I’m a wackjob on my way to work a jewelry show, and I stop at a drugstore on my route to get my favorite gum at the time, Carefree peppermint. It came in a hurt your eyes, bright yellow package, with twenty four delicious sticks of yumminess that you’d pull out from the top. It was one of the few things that made me happy, so of course the drugstore was out of it. Nothing else appealed to me, so I left – gum less and grumpy.

As I pulled onto LaCienega and waited at the light across from the Beverly Center, I could hear the radio in the car to the left of me, even with my windows up, blaring the Rod Stewart song “Have I Told You Lately That I Love You.”
As I shot the two young men with the questionable musical taste, my best exasperated, too cool for school, are you f-ing kidding me, stink eye; the one closest, motioned for me to roll down my window.
Did I mention that they looked like angels? GQ model angels, with big white toothed smiles? But since it was West Hollywood I just assumed they were gay and going to ask for directions.

I rolled down my window at the longest red light in history, and the beautiful model/angel reached out to hand me something. I know I made a WTF face as I pulled my whole body to the left to be able to reach my arm far enough to take what he was so intent on giving me.

It had a bright yellow wrapper. It was a stick of my Carefree Peppermint Gum!
I kid you not.

I sat there, holding the gum, with my bottom jaw hanging in my lap, while the drivers behind me began to honk, as the light had been green for a second already, and they were very important and I was making them late. 

The two smiley guys were up ahead, the Rod Stewart song still hanging in the hair like cheap perfume.

If you know that section of LaCienega heading south, you know there are several lights in quick secession that are synced up in such a way that they are perpetually red.
It’s a joke, but not the funny kind, and if I hadn’t been on my gum quest I would have avoided it at all costs.

So in less than a minute I am again stopped next to my new best friends, who are still smiling, Rod is still singing, and I’m composed enough to mouth Thank You while holding up the gum.
We did that for three lights until they finally turned left. Either the song had finished or they were embarrassed that they had given me their last piece of gum.

Okay, so I knew that was weird. I’m not even sure I told anyone. I had turned so dark and odd at that point, dressing all in black with pennies in my shoes, that I don’t think anyone was taking anything I said seriously anyway.

Here’s the kicker.
When I got back to the shop after doing the show in Santa Monica for three days, I went about my usual mindless tasks, one of them being to check the answer machine.
Yes, early ninties, remember? Cell phones were the size and weight of bricks. We all had answer machines, and the one that day at work told me it was full.

73 messages.
Jeez.
Okay.
Press Play.

Have I told you lately that I love you?
Have I told you there’s no one else above you?
Fill my heart with gladness
Take away all my sadness
Ease my troubles that’s what you do

Yep. Rod Stewart, THAT song, every message until the tape ran out.

Explain that away.

I guess I just needed minty fresh breath and to hear that I was loved, and BOY did I!
Xox

Tell me the story of your miracle!

Xox

Here’s the audio if that’s what you prefer.
https://soundcloud.com/jbertolus/rod-stewart-carefree

Dear Airplane,

I love this arraignment that we’ve all agreed upon.

YOU somehow achieve significant aerodynamic lift; enough to propel us through the sky, from point A to point B, and I sit in my chair in the sky, eating the peanuts, holding the belief that all of that scientific shit is true.

Come on.
Can we cut the crap?

Clearly, air travel is some crazy magic or a freaking miracle.

The sheer accumulated weight of all the passengers and our consistently overweight luggage (I can only speak for myself)
render all that science shit impossible.
Really.

Airplanes work because we all believe they do.

Amen.

*This is for all my friends that are on planes this weekend 😉
Happy Saturday.

Sending miracle Inducing Love,
Xox

*This is a reprise of five posts I did starting in October 2013. We all have our shit, and sometimes that shit can facilitate a huge life change. I’ve formatted them back to back, to be able to read them all at the same time. It’s longer than usual, but hey, it’s a three-day weekend. Cheers!

Epic Fail or Epic Win?

I owned a business.

It was several years ago now.
I left a good job that I had been at for close to 20 yrs.
I put all my proverbial eggs in that one basket.
My money, my creative juices, my blood sweat and tears.

I was excited at the prospect of being my own boss,of displaying my wild ideas for all the world to see,
using the skills I had acquired throughout my life.
I felt vulnerable, really vulnerable for the first time in my life.
I was putting myself out there on the big stage, with no excuses.
This was going to be a reflection of me, curated by moi, everything I loved, cared about, and thought was cool.

This was it! I was 50 and this was the beginning of my beautiful “second act”.

The first year was awesome!
It was tons of hard work with no days off, but I was okay with that.
This was my baby.
It needed me to nurture it, to make it my only focus, and all was well.

The following year was 2008.
Things got dicey.
There was a feeling of dread in the air, like everyone was silently waiting for the shoe to drop, holding their breath.
Money slowed waaaaaay down.

Then it was 2009 and the entire closet of shoes dropped.
It was loud!
The bottom seemed to fall out of everything.
People were scared. Fear reined supreme.
I did my best to stay out of the fray, knowing that the people who had money would still stop by and shop; but they confided that even they didn’t want to be seen walking out with bags of new purchases.
It was like nothing I’d ever seen in all my years in retail.

Everything that was creative and wonderful and fun was gone.
Replaced by unpaid bills, days of not a single customer, and sleepless nights with me wondering how I got myself into this! How had I taken such an abundant, wonderful life and created this perfect shit storm?

Then in September of that year God took pity on me.
She heard my prayers.
But God has a wicked sense of humor, and a flair for the dramatic.
She sent a flood. A random, urban flood to sneak up in the middle of the night and wipe out my store.
I’m serious.
The fireman at the scene told me he had never seen water make a hard right turn. But it did, and it all collected around and inside my sweet little store.
The one that was trying so hard, but just couldn’t stay afloat ( sorry for the pun).

This is the first time I asked myself the question:
Epic fail? Or epic win?
What do you think so far?
Janet
(To be continued)…

Epic Fail or Epic Win Part II

Sometimes we have no idea what the Universe has in store for us.
We can have our sails aimed into the wind, sailing full speed ahead, when in an instant, lightening will strike, and a giant rogue wave will capsize us and shred our boat.

We think we have it all figured out. I KNOW I did!

But life took me by the shoulders and spun me around, just like my mom did when I was a kid and told her I had washed my face, when it was evident by the smear of chocolate, that I needed to be sent back to the bathroom.
It shook me a little and sent me packing….in the exact opposite direction of where I thought I should be going.
Now, I don’t know about you, but I can tolerate, even appreciate, a little course correction at times.
But I don’t like drama, and I like to think I don’t draw it in.
This was something so ridiculously out of left field, 
It was a total loss of my business. Overnight.

I had plenty of insurance, so I wasn’t worried……in the beginning.

With the other stores having 12 inches of water damage and my store having 4 feet, recovery mode looked different for me.
It wasn’t clothes and shoes that had gotten wet, or the cosmetic damage the restaurants sustained.
I had furniture and art, lamps and leather chairs and stuff that just shouldn’t sit immersed in four feet of filthy water for six hours.

I heard everyone saying: “at least three weeks to get back up and running.”
That seemed like a long time to be closed up.
Did I even want to get back up and running? Things really hadn’t felt like they were running at that point, more like a slow stroll, or a pathetic commando crawl.
Was it a possibility? Would I even be able to repair the inventory?
Lord knows, I didn’t have the capital to buy more.
That’s when the first of two miracles occurred.
I even knew they were miracles at the time, THATS how “In your face” they were.
(To be continued)…

Epic Fail or Epic Win (Miracle I)

The dictionary defines a miracle as:
A surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore considered to be the work of a divine agency.

I’ll agree with that.

A miracle also makes your hair stand on end and your heart beat faster.
Or a least it does that to me.

The first miracle occurred not too long after I arrived at my store to find it ankle-deep in a slimy, sludgy, mud, which was the lovely parting gift the flood had left me.
I was walking around in circles with my mouth hanging open. Oh…I mean I was professionally assessing the damage.
You really do go numb, like the people say on the evening news when something awful has just happened. You CANNOT believe it is happening to YOU.

The file cabinet behind my desk had filled with water, so I was peeling apart my insurance papers to find the number to call, to get the adjuster out quickly.
This was 6:30 am the Sunday of Labor Day weekend. Good luck with that!

When I did finally reach him, he said he was away for the weekend and he would get back to me Tuesday, like my toilet had overflowed or something.
I told him to watch the news. News Crews from every channel were crawling all over the place, waiting to get in.
Now, the fire department had caution taped the shit out of the entire block,and they were doing some cleanup on the street, so we had to prove we were the owners to even be allowed near the place.

I was inside for about 30 minutes when a scruffy, middle-aged man walks into the store and starts looking around. He’s shaking his head and doing that tisking sound.
I’m on my phone, looking for a flood cleanup company, but I ask him what he’s doing. He keeps looking around with his hands on his hips. Then I ask him nicely to “get the hell out”.
As he’s leaving he mumbles something like “your insurance is never going to understand and pay you for your this stuff, it’s too esoteric”. My husband and I both do a double take, and at the same time yell out: “hey, what did you say”?
He explains: They’ll deny the claim because flooding is subjective, and even if they don’t, they won’t pay. Pennies on the dollar….maybe. He shakes his head and says I’m in for a long fight. He recommends I call a Public Adjuster. “They will take over everything and deal with the insurance company. For a fee of course.”
What?! It’s now after seven and I’m starting to feel panicky.
I’ve never even heard of such a person, and I ask him for a recommendation. He used a certain company during his own personal calamity and gives me the name, but he says there are several, and I should call a few.
I’m writing furiously on some wet muddy paper, and when I look up……he’s gone.
I run out to get him so he can tell the other merchants what he just told me.
He’s nowhere to be found. When I describe him to the fireman they have no idea who I’m talking about. Several friends I’d called to come get a load of what’d happened, had to call my cell for me to come get them past the security line; but somehow this guy showed up and gave me the information I needed.
I enie , meenie, miney, moe’d and picked one company out of the three names I found.

Gary was there in an hour, fired the cleanup crew that was walking around clueless and overwhelmed, hired some pros that specialize in art and antiques and got the whole thing under control. He was professional and comforting, and knew exactly what to do. Ten percent sounded like a bargain, I would have paid him a million dollars at that point.

For the first time that day I took a deep breath, and started to cry.

Oh, and my scruffy, middle-aged angel? He was exactly right! When the adjuster came on WEDNESDAY!!….he denied the claim. He said “flooding” was open to interpretation, and I didn’t have flood insurance anyway. But that was okay, I had Gary.
We were in for a long fight.
(To be continued)

Epic Fail or Epic Win , Miracle II

The second miracle occurred during cleanup.

We were about four days in.
The mud had been cleaned up, but the floors, walls, windows and merchandise, were still covered with a layer of smelly slime.
We covered our faces with those cloth masks, and plugged on.
Oh yeah, did I mention it was over 100 degrees?

This was the day I was told that the walls of the building had to be cut open up to 5 feet in order to air them out and avoid the dreaded black mold. I don’t know why that hit me so hard, but it did, and I went outside and sat on some hard concrete steps across the way and cried while the sawzall carved up my beautiful little store.
This felt serious…….and sad.

Gary came outside and put his arm around me, and we sat silently watching the carnage. When he finally did say something, he asked me if I wanted to go in and box up the things in the bathroom storage closets that hadn’t gotten wet.
Since the walls would be wide open, someone could potentially get inside and help themselves to whatever was left behind, so he suggested I go take a look. I think he also just wanted to keep me busy, so he didn’t have to look at my big, sad, soggy face.

The bathroom was pitch dark as I poked around in the back closets with a box and a garbage bag, waiting for my eyes to adjust. It felt weird to me to be salvaging windex, paper towels and toilet cleaner. It occurred to me I could just leave it for the salvage crew. I was numb, just going through the motions, trying not to feel too much. Tucked in the back was a box of Tampons with the top torn off. All my good customers knew it was there. I would occasionally bring a handful from home to refill it. All the women reading this know what I’m talking about. There were several left in the box, so I tucked them into my pocket, and tossed the empty box in the garbage bag. But it wasn’t empty….There was something heavy that was sliding around the bottom of the box as it hurtled toward the trash. I reached inside and pulled out the expensive watch my husband had given me for our 5th anniversary.

I stood there in the dark, the hair stood up on the back of my neck, and I started to shake, then I started to scream!
That watch had been “missing” for about 2 years.
My husband had just recently mentioned how disappointed he was that I hadn’t yet found it. We both knew I wasn’t someone who lost my jewelry. In my previous life as a jeweler, I had worn the watch a lot, but since opening the store, it seemed too fancy, and I only took it out of the safe for special occasions. I NEVER wore it to the store.
One day I had gone into the safe to get it……and it was gone.

Did I mention I found the watch on September 9th?
Our anniversary is September 9th.
The missing watch had mysteriously appeared after 2 years, on a sad but significant day, in an impossible place.
It was a sign. Don’t lose hope. Miracles occur.
I couldn’t call my husband fast enough.
(to be continued)

Epic Fail or Epic Win Part III

The claim was denied. Then it wasn’t.

Then the insurance wanted to pay me $10,000 to settle.
They sent a letter basically patting me on the head and sending their best wishes on my “fresh new start”.
I was advised not to settle, and I didn’t.

The 100-year-old pipe that ruptured was called a “trunk line”.
It is 6ft in diameter and carries water from the reservoir into the city. That night, I was told by a DWP official, 30,000 gallons a MINUTE had burst through the asphalt and formed a flash flood that took out my store. It took them over 6 hours to get the water off. DWP said to have my lawyer file the paperwork, and they would get back to me in a year and a half.
After all, they were busy, they were having water-main breaks almost daily. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months.

Now, I know life isn’t fair.

I once had a snarky t-shirt that said something to that effect.
But I did everything right, and I trusted the system. I carried the big insurance policy, with the giant monthly premium, I kept meticulous records. I had every receipt. My books were completely transparent, But somehow that wasn’t good enough.
Somewhere the tables had turned and I was the villain in this drama. They asserted that I somehow had a direct line to God, and had arranged for a flood to come and wipeout my store because business wasn’t great.
It was 2009. Lehman Brothers, Washington Mutual Bank and Circuit City were among the over 200 big businesses to file bankruptcy that year.
They could have just asked God for a flood and saved themselves a lot of trouble.

After 18 months it was clear, I had to lawyer up to get any real money from the insurance company AND DWP. Oh yeah, and a third one because my landlord was suing me for every dime of back rent.

Realization number one:
Well, life isn’t fair is number one, so…
Realization number two:
Insurance companies will do ANYTHING …NOT. to. pay. you.
They will drag their feet, and lie and be just awful. And that surprised me.
Realization number three:
You still have to pay all the bills on a flooded, cut up, closed business.
No slack…no kidding. That STILL gives me a stomach ache.
Realization number four:
Next time ask God for a fire.

It’s feeling pretty Epic Fail right about now, isn’t it?
(To be continued)

Epic Fail or Epic Win Part IV

Let’s get to the Win, Right?
I’m gonna tie it all up now, in a nice neat bow.
Readers digest version. Get the Kleenex.
Kidding….sort of.

I sued and was sued every which way you can imagine.
And it is really not my nature. I’m not the litigious type.
I’m the artsy fartsy type. I’m a lover not a fighter.
I was a fish out of water…swimming with sharks.
I found myself wanting to blurt out in one of the numerous depositions, “Can’t we all just get along?”

Some of the people who worked with me were great. Gary and his company were great. Others were not. Let’s just leave it at that. You know who you are.

There were no more miracles.
God had shown off early in the game, with two back to back.
I was lucky to have those.
But the quota had been met, and now, she was uncharacteristically quiet.
She must have been working on more important matters…..Like world peace.

So I prayed for an answer. Why me? Silence
I prayed for relief. There was none.
I felt ignored and alone.
When I felt emotion at all, I felt rage. 
Now I realize she WAS there, she just wanted me to go inside.
To pull up my big girl pants, and find my own courage there.

After three years I eventually recouped 80% of the COST of my merchandise. Then the lawyers took 40% of that.
I owe everybody in the world money, and I’m slowly paying them off. I probably owe you some money…….get in line!

I’m normally an optimistic, happy person. My sister used to ask me “who blew sunshine up my ass.” This had turned me into a sad sack. I became super serious, with absolutely no sense of humor, (Which really COULD have saved me). 

I had absolutely NO coping skills whatsoever.

Some people handle adversity with strength, wisdom and grace. Yeah. That was NOT me. I wanted to go live under a bridge with the trolls. I hated answering the phone or looking at mail. It always seemed to be bad news.

But…I’m SO lucky!
Honestly!
I always had a roof over my head and plenty of chocolate to eat. My husband never left me, which was a miracle, given my disposition and the fact that 2009 sucked for his profession, construction, as well. We made it through with our deep un breakable love. Oh, come on! Let’s get real! That and copious amounts of wine.
My friends and family have also been there for me, helping me feel like I wasn’t a total deadbeat. “Look, you took a shot at your dream” they said.
Secretly grateful they still had their day jobs.

The bottom line is this:
I know things always work out for me.
I WILL pull a rabbit out of my hat!
This transition feels big, and beautiful and perfect.
So I’m now looking forward to the next chapter,
And I’m starting to believe that the best times of my life are ahead of me.
I’d say that’s an Epic Win!
(To be continued)

Epic Fail or Epic Win Finale
My reasons for sharing all of this are two fold.
The first is purely selfish I must admit. I still have a dark pocket of pain around this situation that still holds me down.
And I’m finally done.
I’m done with the shame.
I’m done being scared.
I’m done feeling unworthy.
I’m done not trusting myself because I think I led ME astray.
I’m done punishing myself 
And I’m done being diminished.
And by that I mean living a small and non abundant life, because I’ve listened to the peanut gallery, I think that’s what I deserve.

Here’s where the Epic Win comes in.
I NEVER would be writing this blog had things stayed the same. This energy has been wanting a conduit for 20 years and I wouldn’t allow it. Not as a jeweler, because I felt safe, and not as a store owner because I never had a minute.
But the real reason was: I wasn’t in enough pain.
There! I said it!
The pain made me do it, and it’s been such a gift.

So now that I’ve found this outlet of writing, 
I wanted to share my feelings at the same time I was processing 
all the curious things that happened around the loss of my business. It has been cathartic…and extremely uncomfortable.
Re living these events can bring me right back to the smells,
the sounds, and most importantly now, now that I’m finally able to really process them……the feelings.
I was in “get it done” mode, so I stayed pretty numb.
I’m done with numb!
When you numb the sadness you also numb the joy.
That is a price I’m no longer willing to pay.
I’m not certain if it was just that it’s the same time of year, 
or that four years have passed, Wow, It can seem like a million or the day before yesterday.

Maybe it’s my newfound commitment to vulnerability,
But I felt compelled to share this story via my blog.
What I know for SURE is we all experience a wake up call in our lives. It can be disguised as an accident or an illness, A panic attack at three in the morning, a divorce or break up, the death of a loved one or another profound loss.
It leaves us open and raw and ready for change.

So there you go!
That’s the second reason.
Everyone’s life looks so shiny and perfect from the outside.
Mine does. But here’s the thing, we all have our shit.
Really. You are not alone. Here’s MY expensive, crazy, messy, miracle inducing, Wake up call.
It’s changed me in ways I can’t even express.
But it didn’t kill me.
I’m a grown up now, my eyes are WIDE OPEN, and that’s a good thing. I feel endless empathy for people going through their hardships. “Been there, done that” big hugs. I’m kinder, more compassionate and thoughtful. I’m over pretending things are great when they’re not, so I’m an open book, (much to my husband’s chagrin, because he’s still pretty private).
I’m reaching out and helping people, at least that’s my intention.
Thanks for indulging me.

Now tell me your Epic Fail/Epic Win stories.

Xox 

Have you ever given that much thought?
The fact that we’re trying to maintain our balance on a planet made mostly of liquid, that is spinning at 1000 mph? Then imagine that big wet blue ball hurdling through space at 67,000 mph.
No wonder I fall down so much. Just thinking about it makes me wanna hurl.

I know science says it all has to do with centrifugal force and gravity and stuff.
But I think it’s a miracle.
This Goldilocks habitat, in the middle of a vacuum. How did I get so lucky?
When I contemplate all the places, all the gin joints in all the towns, in all the worlds, where I could have ended up. I must have drawn the long straw, because I could have been born as a gnat on the ass of a Wookie.

It’s my belief that we volunteered to come here at this time in Earth’s history.
We waited in line. We knew things wouldn’t be easy. But we knew they wouldn’t be boring either. It would be a time of great change, and we knew we could make a difference. It would be a challenge to fit all of our magnificence into a body. It’s uncomfortably tight at times. Like squeezing into two sizes too small skinny jeans.
And those emotions! How the hell do they work?
They looked really fun from an outsider’s perspective.

But the beauty. My God, the beauty.
Purple mountains majesty, trees of green and sky’s of blue.
I’m in awe whenever I see an elephant or a whale, or a wild wolf. Watching hummingbirds in my backyard or starlings flying in formation.
The smell of cut grass, and orange blossoms and puppies.
Those are just a few of the things that help me maintain my balance here.

I KNOW we all came in with a purpose. God, or whomever, does not make extra people. That’s not the way the Universe works.
No one and no thing is superfluous. And all life is connected.
Remember that the next time you’re feeling lonely, unsettled and out of balance.

Then open your eyes and look around. Take a deep breath and realize how freakin’ lucky you are. How lucky we ALL are.
Then get to work, you with your mad skills.

XoxJanet

So, if you’re like me, I’ve spent years waiting for certain things to happen, only to ring in another year, and alas…that thing I want is annoyingly absent.

Now we all understand at this stage of the game how the Universe works, right?

Sometimes I need a reminder, so here’s a very abbreviated refresher course:
1) You have a desire. It can be anything, from a new car, to bigger boobs, to improved health.
The Universe doesn’t judge, so you shouldn’t either, just sayin’.
2) The Universe complies. End of story.

So why all the suffering? Why don’t we all get what we think we want?
Here’s why…
3) Stay out of the way.
Shit!
That one gets me every time!

Here’s a reminder that I always repeat to myself when I want to pull my hair out:

I ask the Universe for something, they say “Yes”!
I ask the Universe for something, they say “Not right now”.
I ask the Universe for something, they say “No…I have something better for you”.

Damn! That sounds awesome and simple, and it is!
But simple doesn’t mean easy!

You know why?
Because we can’t keep our big noses out of the Universe’s business!
When it says “not right now” we scream, “why not”!
We have to keep opening the oven, so to speak, to see if it’s cooked, and you know what that does? It slows down the process! Or worse yet, it makes the soufflé drop.
It shows that we don’t really trust the Universe to get it done, and the Universe can’t stand a Doubting Thomas. Sorry, but it’s the truth.

There is a timetable we are not privy to, a point where all the stars align.
If you monitor it, and micro manage it, constantly checking the progress,
the miracles that need to occur to help it along will never happen!
They can’t when we’re watching.
It only happens when our heads are turned, or we fall asleep…kinda like the tooth fairy or Santa Claus.

Another thing we do…we confuse the energy by asking for one thing, but doing the exact opposite.
You can’t say you want your life to change, when you continue to do everything the same.
It just doesn’t work that way.
Do you know how confusing that is for the Universe? It’s like a computer.
If you put in a command and then continue to hit “Control, Alt, Delete”, you’re not going to get anything! You will be stalled, sitting in the traffic of your mixed signals.

I remember realizing that, when I decided I wanted to meet a man and get married. I knew I had to circulate in the world…better yet, I had to date! I couldn’t just sit in my pajamas on Saturday nights, or continue to have occasional sex with an ex, and I definitely couldn’t say to everyone that I was skeptical that true love really existed. The miracles couldn’t happen if I wasn’t willing to show up and be clear about wanting a husband!

When it says ” I have something better for you” we scream “how could you?!”
You know how? The Universe dreams bigger than we do.
So we have to be happy waiting for the big reveal,
where…we…stand.
It is just the platform where we launch ourselves toward our desired goal, then the Universe takes it from there!

Well, that’s impossible!
How can you be happy being sick, when wellness is nowhere in sight?
Or single, when the loneliness is palpable?
Or broke, when your unemployment runs out,
Or chubby, when you just broke another zipper?
Happy?! Really?
Yes.

Because the miracles can’t find you if you stay in the energy of the suffering.
They can only meet you if you can get to the corner of happiness and acceptance.

Just like driving a motorcycle or car.
If you fixate on an obstacle you WILL hit it!
You have to look in the direction you WANT to go. Counterintuitive but true.

That means getting out and dating, and actually having fun.
Or wearing the new blue dress that’s not a size 6, and knowing you look pretty.
It means splurging on a manicure, because it makes you feel good, and you know the money will come.
Or taking a shower and shaving for the first time since your last chemo, finally washing away the smell of hospital.

THEN, you can start to conjure the feelings of happiness and relief that the money, or love, or healing would bring.
Pretend if you have to, use your imagination!

Remember, simple, not easy.

And that goes for illness, bad relationships, jobs, weight, EVERYTHING!
Practice this, and you’re on your way to making room for all those miracles!
I’m right there with you.
XoxJanet

The second miracle occurred during cleanup.
We were about four days in.
The mud had been cleaned up, but the floors, walls and windows and merchandise, were still covered with a layer of smelly slime
We covered our faces with those cloth masks, and plugged on.
Oh yeah, did I mention it was over 100 degrees!

This was the day I was told that the walls of the building had to be cut open up to 5 feet in order to air them out and avoid the dreaded mold.
I don’t know why that hit me so hard, but it did, and I went outside and sat and cried while the sawzall carved up my beautiful little store.
This felt serious…and sad.

Gary came outside and put his arm around me, and we sat silently watching 
the carnage.
When he finally did say something, he asked me if I wanted to go in and box up the things in the bathroom storage closets that hadn’t gotten wet.
Since the walls would be wide open, someone could potentially get inside and 
help themselves to whatever was left behind, so he suggested I go take a look.
I think he also just wanted to keep me busy, so he didn’t have to look at my big, sad, soggy face.

The bathroom was pitch dark, as I poked around in the back closets with a box and a garbage bag, waiting for my eyes to adjust.
It felt weird to me to be salvaging windex, paper towels and toilet cleaner.
It occurred to me I could just leave it for the salvage crew.
I was numb, just going through the motions, trying not to feel too much.

Tucked in the back was a box of Tampons with the top torn off.
All my good customers knew it was there.
I would occasionally bring a handful from home to refill it.
All the women reading this know what I’m talking about.
There were several left in the box, so I tucked them into my pocket,
and tossed the empty box in the garbage bag.
But it wasn’t empty. There was something heavy that was sliding around the bottom of the box as it hurtled toward the trash.

I reached inside and pulled out the expensive watch my husband had given me for our 5th anniversary.
I stood there in the dark, the hair stood up on the back of my neck, and I started to shake, then I started to scream!

That watch had been ” missing” for about 2 years.
My husband had just recently mentioned how disappointed he was that I hadn’t found it yet.
We both knew I wasn’t someone who lost my jewelry.
In my previous life as a jeweler, I had worn the watch a lot.
But since opening the store, it seemed too fancy, and I only took it out of the safe for special occasions. 
I NEVER wore it to the store.
One day I had gone into the safe to get it…and it was gone.

Did I mention I found the watch on September 9th?
Our anniversary is September 9th.
The missing watch had mysteriously appeared after 2 years,
on a sad but significant day, in an impossible place.
It was a sign.
Don’t lose hope.
Miracles occur.
I couldn’t call my husband fast enough.

XoxJanet
( to be continued)