In Touch

I was at a 5 year olds birthday party when someone asked me if I had ever seen a medium. Truth was, I hadn't. But mediums indirectly play an important role in my life.

After my mother's death and my father and I were separated, he had a girlfriend who wanted to see one. Unbelieving, but wanting to please his girlfriend, he reluctantly agreed to take her. When they got there, the medium insisted on reading my father instead of her. My father pushed back, again, only there to please his new girlfriend. Until the medium spoke my mother's name and then told him, "She wants to know where her daughter is." This moment is what prompted my father to come look for me and attempt to reconcile our relationship. So, I've never gone to a medium, but I was always enamored.

My friend, at this 5 year old's birthday party then told me she had an appointment with one, but wasn't able to use it. She asked if I wanted to go instead. Enamored, curiosity got the best of me. I felt a pull, a sign, that maybe I should do this. Truthfully, I hoped I too could be connected with my mother. But I was also being overly realistic that the chances were slim.

The day of the appointment happened to be on the anniversary of my mother's death. I didn't know how to take that. I was scared to put too much stock into it, but now that pulling I felt became a compulsion to go.

The night before the appointment, I couldn't sleep. I pulled out my jewelry box. One that is tucked safely in a corner of my closet. The one that keeps all the heirlooms and precious pieces I never take the chance to lose. A box I rarely open.

In it was the crucifix my mother use to wear on a daily basis. It still shined. Light still reflected off it. Untarnished from the years it had been hidden for safe keeping. All these years, I carried it with me, tightly, carefully put away so no one would take the last I had of her.

At the sight of it, I was flooded with what felt like hundreds of memories. Big and small. Her touch, her scent, her warmth, her life. Remembering this cross against my face in her embrace, dangling off her chest as she tucked me in at night, her rubbing it between her fingertips for comfort. Her teaching me to pray and the importance of faith. Of hope. Everything I wished to connect with came rushing back at the vision of this necklace.

I placed it in the pocket of the sweater I would wear to the appointment the next day.

As I sat in that meeting, anxious, nervous, but still practical. I kept telling myself I would not put stock in the outcome of the day. I would not speak unless I was positive, I was given proof, this medium was connecting to my mother. This woman had to give me tangible evidence to validate her and my connection to my mother in order for me to speak a word. But, oddly, I was still confident as I grasped that cross in my pocket that I had already rekindled what I had craved.

The entire meeting I held, felt, rubbed that cross in my fingers and against my palm. Feeling the coolness of it against my clammy skin. Feeling the comfort of my connection with my mother in my own pocket.

Suddenly, the medium looked directly at me and asked, "Did you bring a rosary?"

I shook my head no.

Then, she said loudly, "No. It's a cross!"

Once again, as I sat there in shock, I gripped it firmly in my palm as she continued, "It's your mother's. Now, you have to wear it."

Goosebumps jolted across my body. The hair on my arms and back of my neck stood on end. Bewildered about how she knew I not only brought a cross, but how she also somehow knew I wasn't wearing it underneath my sweater. How she knew it was not on my neck, but instead in my pocket. She had my full attention. I remained speechless as she continued validating truth. She revealed many more past and future things that would, out of my knowledge and control, come to fruition. But, those are other stories.