Trust Issues

When I get an intuition to leave my cell phone home I'm often in for a treat. A spiritual lesson kind of treat. My husband took me on a date to a Cafe in downtown Madison. The food was savory, the foam on my hot chocolate was impeccable, we talked about our experiences with skiing as teenagers and we had a good time. When we were ready to depart, my sweet man offered to get the car and come pick me up so I wouldn't have to walk in the cold. Chivalry is not dead. I get cold really easily. I was so grateful. I stood for the first elongated stetch of time happily by the window, confidently awaiting my knight in shining armor. I smiled at a few strangers who liked either my vibes or my hat or both. I was wearing the yoda one. I'm so glad The Last Jedi brought yoda back into the mix. There was a stretch of time about five years when I'd mention Yoda in conversation and people would be like, "Who?" Oh yeah, that was from a while ago," and they'd scratch their head and marvel that I was still hanging onto flared jeans or insisting on using a type writer. Of course according to one buddhist scholar  insists that Yoda is based on Tsenzhab Serkong Rinpoche, a gentle-humored monk who was a debate partner of the Dalai Lama. I first heard this from my buddhist monastic friend Ngawang Thekchen, and then I looked it up and found the link above.

Being without my phone, looking up Star Wars lore was off the docket. So I felt my feet and silently chanted a mantra as I continued to wait, well beyond how long it takes a healthy person to reach the garage, clearly visible from the eatery, turn on the vehicle, pay for parking and exit the garage, drive around the capitol and arrive for the lady in waiting, in this case, me. I was pretty happy for a while. I know my feels peaceful taking a slower pace. And then the waiting exceeded all reasonable amounts of time to wait for someone. I didn't have a watch and there was no clock visible, but let me tell, you I started to wonder if he even existed, of I'd always just been alone, and if he was ever coming back. I hypothesized he might have collapsed unexpected in the brutal cold from walking pneumonia or who knows what. I imagined having to troll downtown in -1 wintry weather  asking strangers if for a ride home until I met a caring soul willing to help out a woman with no license, credit cards or cell phone here with which to pay fo a cab or verify her identity. Then I imagined calling all the local hospitals to see if my husband had been admitted or if he had simply vanished. For a split second I even wondered if he'd unexpected abandoned me, but the date was good and we have three kids together, so it seemed more unlikely than an elephant walking in through the door of the eatery and ordering a latte with coconut milk. I went back to my mantra, noticing my worry, sensing deep down that nothing was wrong, that all was well. And yet, I kept bending forward and sweeping the street with my gaze and no sign of my husband pulling up in our well-loved Prius. I could keep writing that more time passed and then still more time until you stopped reading. Finally, I felt a nudge to open the coverless copy of The Sophy Code I had with me. I'd left it in the car and my sweet man had brought it in for me perhaps an hour or so ago when he moved the car from the 25 minute parking spot we'd scored in front of brunch place to the garage a block away. I flipped open the book and immediately "Angel of Trust" popped out at me. I breathed a sight of relief. I knew I was cared for even during this little test of faith. The section continued on, informing me that it was time to forgive myself for lifetimes in which I choose fearful thoughts instead of listening to the guidance of my higher self. It further let me know that fear was being sucked out of my medulla oblongata, allowing my mind to be filled with loving light. Or something. I stopped at the end of the paragraph, affirmed my intention to absorb the lesson and thought, almost loud enough to hear, "I bet here comes the Prius." I looked up and to the left and without a doubt, a red Prius was cruising straight for my location. As it came closer I immediately recognized the license plate: ours. And I saw the smiling, kind face of the man I love and adore looking out at me from behind the steering wheel. He pulled right up in front.

My partner had simply gotten stuck behind a car that required special assistance at the garage gate. Since his pace is slower than mine by nature, he had felt peaceful waiting. No biggie. For me, I got a lesson in the Angel of Trust.