First off, get your mind out of the gutter. The F word here is Faith. While the other F word is one of my faves and comes out of my mouth probably three or four or twenty times a day, I rarely speak of faith.
Faith has never come easily for me. I do believe that people we love never really leave us. But I cannot fully wrap my head (or heart, I guess) around the notion that everything happens for a reason. Or that there is, in fact, a force greater than us that’s up there directing traffic. I desperately want to believe. But the whole accepting things without proof is tough. I suppose that’s the very definition of faith. Can’t prove it, but you still believe it.
However, since my mom died, things have been happening that are making me reconsider my steadfast denial of faith. What are they, you ask? I’d be delighted to tell you.
The day after we lost my mom I promised Bowie (our dog) that I would take him for a long hike. We went to our favorite spot, but took a new trail. Having no sense of direction, I’ve been forbidden to venture out to new places by myself. But I needed to be enveloped in the beauty and solitude of the woods. So Bowie and I set off, fairly certain that eventually the red trail would intersect with the blue one that would take us back to our car.
Twenty minutes into our hike, it was clear that we were very very lost. So I did what any responsible adult should do—I pretended it wasn’t happening. I just kept walking and eventually called my mom’s dear friend Mary to tell her about my mom. We talked for a long time, crying over losing someone we both loved so much, and laughing at the stories we shared. All the while, I was acutely aware that Bowie and I seemed to be getting farther away from where we started.
As we were ending the call, Mary told me that she believes in the law of conservation of mass; more commonly known as matter cannot be created or destroyed. I’ve heard of it, but it’s always confuzzled me. If matter cannot be created, how did it get here? But, I digress. Along that line, she said that she thinks when people die, their energy stays with us. Protecting us. Loving us. Then she told me that I have quite a bit of fire power behind me as my mom was a force of nature. I thanked her for being such a good friend to my mom for so many years and hung up.
By this time, Bowie thought he was having the greatest day ever as he’d been running and playing in the woods for an hour and ten minutes. Google Maps was helpful enough to tell me we were in Killingworth (we’d started in Deep River), but not so kind as to tell me how to get out of the woods. My battery was dying and I was starting to freak out a little. So I took what Mary had said and I put it to the test. I said aloud, to the universe and more specifically to my mom, that I needed her energy to help me. I told her that if Mary was right and she was still all around me, I needed her to get me out of a jam. That was as close as I’ve ever gotten to praying, and it just seemed so fitting that I said my very first prayer to my mom.
I’m not kidding you, forty-five seconds later, I noticed Bowie had stopped and the hair on his back was up. He planted his feet and looked back to me. That’s Bowie speak for he knows someone is coming and he’s waiting for me to put him on a leash. So I trotted up to him and leashed him just in time to hear voices. When I looked up, a troop of Boy Scouts had descended upon us.
It’s okay. I’ll give you a moment to let that sink in.
I ran up to them and was too emotional to speak. Finally I asked if they could help me find my way back to Deep River and my car. The troop leader proudly handed me a map. And then I had to admit I didn’t know how to read it and I had no idea where I was. He called two scouts over. One explained to me (in very good detail and thankfully not using confusing words such as North or East) exactly which trails to follow. The other marked my location on the map with a big X and highlighted the trail.
I thanked them profusely and asked them what troop they were. They said they were Troop 13 from Chester, Essex and Deep River. Not only had my mom sent a Boy Scout troop to save me, but she’d sent the troop from my own town.
Bowie and I followed their directions and forty-five minutes later I recognized the bridge leading to the parking lot. So, I guess Mary wasn’t kidding when she said I have a lot of fire power behind me now. But I’m not surprised my mom sent a whole team of do-gooders to help me. No matter what I did or how badly I screwed up, she was always there to bail me out and help me find my way home. And that day in the woods was no different.
It’s brought me enormous peace knowing my mom is still looking out for me. It’s almost like I have faith that she never left and she’ll always be with me.