The Day I Believed

A handful of my Guardian Angels

Do I believe in God? It’s a pretty simple question, right? Eight years ago I would have had a prompt, definite answer. Because I used to. I used to pray every night when I was a little girl. As I got older those prayers turned into long (one-sided) conversations with my mother – asking her advice, telling her about my days. Throughout my entire childhood I remember interrogating my grandma every time I visited her, asking about her experiences with God, what she thought Heaven was like, what happened when you died… and the questions went on and on. Thankfully, my extremely religious grandmother was always happy to answer to the best of her ability. Today, however, my beliefs are skewed. Life changes a person. Things happen that make you question everything you once believed in. So if someone asks me that question now, I honestly don’t really know what my answer would be.

Now I’m a fairly cautious person. But my “mom brain” is most definitely pretty solid, and trust me when I say I forget A LOT. As in most days I can’t remember what I was thinking by the time I’ve walked to the other side of the room. However for the most part, my overall anxiety keeps me fairly on my toes when it comes to safety. Yet something different happened today.

I decided to make lasagna for dinner, which required the sauce to simmer for a fairly long time. But as with so many moments in my daily life, I got in a hurry. It was time to pick up Jaycob from the bus, the girls were up and needing a snack, and we had to hurry up and hustle out the door to get to swim practice in time. With some work, I quickly assembled the lasagna, threw the pan in the sink, picked up Jaycob and got everyone gathered up and out the door on time.

As I was pulling out of the driveway I was stopped short by a very funny feeling. I wasn’t sure what or why, but I felt with all of my being that something wasn’t right. I immediately put the car in park and ran inside. I looked around briefly and sure enough, my stove burner was still burning. Without hesitation, I quickly turned it off, gave the dog a pat on her head and ran back outside.

I sat in the car for a minute, my heart pumping like I had just got done running a marathon, trying to process what the hell just happened. A million different “what if” scenarios were racing through my head… none of which were good. With shaking hands, I turned around, looked at each of my kids, smiled and told them I loved them. I took a deep breath, and we headed off to swim.

I don’t know what sparked that uneasy feeling in my stomach today. More than likely my subconscious was more aware of me not following my own rules [turn stove on, turn stove off, close safety burner lid and done], more than even my conscious state was.  However today I choose to believe in something bigger. Today I choose to believe that I have a Guardian Angel (well, who am I kidding, SEVERAL of them) who is indeed looking down on me and lending a helping hand in keeping me and my family safe. And maybe nothing would have even happened. But I’m all too familiar with “what ifs” turning into realities. So today after eight years, I said my first prayer – a prayer of thanks for whomever up above just saved my ass from having my house blow up or whatever other crazy, horrible thing that could have happened. Today I’m putting aside all of my anger towards The Power(s) at Be and simply saying my prayers. Because you never know who’s listening.

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