How you live your life, perceive your life is all about choice.
How you choose to live is your choice. Happy or sad, abundant or miser, forgiver or blamer, grateful or selfish.
Belief is one of those choices.
In my family, there are scientists, atheists, non-believers, Christians and probably many more ‘believers’. I choose to be spiritual. I believe in energy flows, the power of the Universe and spirituality.
Today, I could have chosen to be a cynic or a believer.
I could choose to believe that the softly spoken lady with the sparkly blue eyes had read up on me – it would have been easy. I am pretty much an open book, particularly with the last year publicised on the web.
Or I could choose to believe that there were other energies and spirits in the room with us.
As I drove home in the car, I was conflicted with the two thoughts and feelings. Which one? Cynic or believer? Did I believe or didn’t I? What would I choose to base my belief on?
The cynic in me said that she knew I had put roses on my Mum’s grave as she seen my blog / Facebook page and the roses I put there yesterday as we scattered her ashes?
The cynic in me said that it wouldn’t have been hard to search through my photos online to see Tom playing rugby and his dreams of being an England Captain. Apparently he is going to win lots of cups … in rugby!
The cynic in me said it wouldn’t be difficult to see that I am interested in ‘creams’ and ‘organic’… and that I work out a lot.
All of this was coming through the mind and thoughts of my Mumbo… who apparently had been waiting all day to see me, waiting in the corner, wringing her hands.
And so what if I chose to believe?
The first thing Mumbo said directly to me, ‘Don’t worry, I have my teeth back – they are fine’. How did she know that that was the one thing that shocked me so much, couldn’t bear to look at as Mumbo was dying? ‘And so is my hair!’ The other thing, her greasy, lank hair that always used to be soft and washed.
And then a shy gentleman came in, stood behind her. Told her that he had died suddenly of a cardiac arrest and never got the chance to say goodbye to anyone. That he always used to wear a cap. Grandad. My Grandad Brooks. A great pal of my Mumbo’s. He died very suddenly right in front of the doctor.
There are lots of people, names and places that were mentioned through the spirits of Mumbo and Grandad. My dishwasher is going to break, but I will know how to fix it, even when others don’t (they told me). My visa card is going to get stolen and I am going to go to the ballet. I have to take time out and have some girlie time with my friend Jenny (which one – I am not sure, they didn’t give surnames) and I need to be wary of Ken. We are going to move house and my Dad (complete non believer) needs to pay specific attention to his feet and his gums, before it is too late… other than that, he has a long time to live yet (YAY!).
They shared various elements of the future for all my boys, how many grandchildren, what their wives were like and the Big Man – he needs to strike while the iron is hot apparently!
So cynic or believer. It’s just a choice.
She could be just a lovely lady giving me comfort, giving me pointers, hope and something to hold on to based on my prolific web profile.
She told me that if I ever needed anything, I just needed to ask them… She also said Mumbo would be joining me on the way home in the car. So as I pondered all this and let it all sink in, I thought I would ask Mumbo a question.
‘Should I believe Mumbo? Were you there?’
What do you think was the next song on the radio?
Glee and their rendition of ‘Don’t stop believing’.
Gave me goosebumps.