I’m one of those woo-woo people who believe that there are no coincidents, that things happen for a reason. I also believe that sometimes those coincidences are messages meant to guide one through life. I remember Oprah Winfrey has said that she believes those messages come as whispers at first, and when they are ignored, they become shouts until the messages are paid attention to. That’s one of those things that I thought was interesting, but eventually stored in those cluttered files in the back of my mind.
Also back in my mind was that little voice that was always saying… “You really need to exercise!”. Although I didn’t really pay attention until I had a chance to look back in retrospect, the voice in the back of my mind was the whisper. Then it started to get weird. When I would think about how I should exercise instead of turning the TV on, a commercial, or even a show would be on regarding exercise or diet. The first time wasn’t so weird… but when it kept happening, that’s when I simply would say, “huh, this is strange.”
The whisper became a raised voice when my friends and family and I went out to dinner. The restaurant was far from healthy. It was one of those really bad-for-you, smorgasbord restaurants. As if it wasn’t enough of a message when a woman at the next table over was taken to the hospital by the paramedics with a suspected heart attack, when we left we noticed a heart-rate monitor machine placed at the exit doors, right next to the bubble gum machines!
Still, that was not enough. The whispers became raised voices, then a yell. The kids spent the day with Grandma, and to end the fun day, she took them to McDonald’s for a treat and to play on the playground there. Roger and I were to meet them there to take them home. I swear that we had nothing to eat there except a few left over fries that the kids and Grandma didn’t want anymore. Oh, okay… a teeny tiny apple turnover too. After gathering them all together and saying our goodbyes, I got the kids loaded into the van, then slid into the driver’s seat. That’s when it happened. Quick and swift, with a big old ripping sound. Shocked, I blurted, “oh my gosh!!!” and jumped back out wondering what had just happened.
“OH HONEY!” gasped Roger as he couldn’t believe his eyes. Our 13-year-old started snickering. I had ripped my jeans… yes, JEANS, from the yolk (top of the rear pocket), clear down to the mid area of my thigh… I had a WHOLE cheek enjoying quite a bit of freedom!
Okay, I’ve got it now. I need to pay attention and consider that dirty “D” word… a diet. Some exercise couldn’t hurt either. I have to do it. I have to listen. I don’t want to know what or how loud the next message will be.