When my head finally hits the pillow at night, it’s when all of my thoughts come rushing at me. All of the things I didn’t get done, need to do, and want to do, play round and round in my head. On a particular Sunday evening, in early 2008, I was creating a plan for the following morning. I was going to get my two older kids off to school, run to the store, buy new book shelves, and get their room straightened up and organized before they returned home!
When I woke up the following morning, though, I had a sense of dread. I don’t often feel this way, but when I do, there’s almost always a reason why. My intuition is really good, scary good at times, but because I knew my kids were safe, and because I had things to accomplish, I tried to push it aside and get things done. I ran to Target, bought the book shelves, assembled them, and cleaned the kids’ room the way this mama wanted it cleaned.
I was excited about the kids’ room, and I knew they’d be excited, but I also knew I wouldn’t be home when they arrived after school. I worked as a weight loss instructor, and on Mondays, I traveled about 35 minutes to my meeting location. Because there was about 45 minutes between me leaving for work, and my husband coming home from his job, Mary, a dear family friend, came over to watch our youngest, and get our two older kids off the bus. After my meeting, I would leave, and get home just in time to tuck everyone in!
As the afternoon progressed, however, my uneasiness didn’t lessen, and I decided to write letters to my children and my husband. I didn’t know why I felt compelled to write, but I didn’t let the prompting fade.
I shared with my children how much I loved them, and I explained that I when I told them no, I was only trying to be the best mom I could, and sometimes that meant making difficult decisions. The letter to my husband was full of love, too, but when I re-read all of the letters together, it truly sounded like I was planning to leave, and these letters were my good-bye.
It wasn’t my intention at all for the letters to have that feel, so I wrote an additional note to my husband. I let him know my only purpose for the letters was to share my love and emotions as a wife and mom, and to ensure they all knew how important they were to me.
I didn’t share, however, my anxiety I had felt all day, and although I didn’t know what was wrong, I did know the letters were incredibly important.
This is the first in a series about intuition, love, and having faith. This true story is categorized under “It Ain’t Fiction” and additional posts will be published soon.