Divine Delays: When Dead Ends Make Way for Destiny

I never know what’ll go down on Tuesday nights, but it usually leaves my jaw scraping the floor for some reason or another. I love these evenings because it’s when several of us women gather virtually to hone our mediumship and intuitive practices, learn from each other and receive guidance alongside a mentor. 

Last week, a series of messages from one woman I’ll call Megan emerged: “I’m getting something about a small purple flower, a polaroid photo, a name that starts with M with lots of cursive loops, baseball, and a tea cup covered in polka dots.” Which one of us was the message for? Did it ring a bell to anyone?

I racked the files of my brain. Could it be? My late Scottish terrier, Ferguson, as fast as I scurried to rename him once our lives intersected, was originally named Mariano by his foster mother— after the baseball player, Mariano Rivera. And I had just been writing about the time Ferg and I had our aura photo taken by our OG medium friend, Cindy, which was captured on a polaroid. In fact, he had come into my meditation that morning as I sipped my green tea by the window. As Megan described the flower in more detail, another participant piped up: “That sounds like a thistle. The national flower of Scotland.”

Well, then. That sealed it. “Yep. Pretty sure it’s him.” 

We wrapped the call, I took a shower and tucked myself into bed. The only thing that didn’t quite add up was the patterned teacup, but I laid my head on the pillow thinking nothing much of it, ready for sleep.

This particular meeting of the minds (and souls) came at an interesting time. I was just starting to wonder if more than a handful of dead ends in seeking out other avenues for my work lately were starting to mean something. Conversations, applications, referrals for what I hoped would steer me toward a fresh freelance writing gig started out promising, then just … fizzled.

Hang in there, I told the part of me aching for control. Guess this one’s just not meant for me right now. So what was meant to land?

It reminds me of the lingering question marks that sometimes find their way into the sessions I hold with my own clients. Like the time I asked a dog in spirit named Kain how he was coming through to his mom. Know what he told me? “A rainbow.” Internally, I was like. C’mon dude. Really? How cliche can we get here? But I relayed it anyway. My client jotted it down. Said she hadn’t seen any rainbows lately. Then we moved on.

Five days later, she emailed me this photo. “It’s Kain. At the end of the rainbow.”

Sometimes, the question marks dot my brain and morph into anxious little exclamation marks with each growing assumption I plant. The week before I left for Thailand, I sent a recorded session to a client I’ll call Sheila after connecting with her pup, Cricket. It’s not unusual to hear nothing back from a recorded session. People are busy. Time’s fleeting. Maybe they don’t want to bug me. After all, I don’t require feedback. (All stuff I've said, by the way, through a forced smile. While convincing myself they must have hated it and WOW I probably flopped big time.)

One month later, an email from Sheila landed in my inbox while I was standing on a remote hilltop in Chiang Mai with particularly good cell service. I clicked it open and scrolled through line after line of confirmation, thrill and gratitude. Twenty paragraphs of them, to be exact. Yes, Cricket builds forts and lies in them. Yes, all the candy canes flying in her face were for good reason: she’d gotten a candy cane toy for Christmas. Yes, she watches her daughter put on makeup and is often called Princess. 

Funny, this delayed timing.

Back in that darkened bedroom last week, I willed myself to sleep. But the beeeeep-beeeep-beeeep of the dishwasher chime floating through the hallway rang in my ear. This thing, it just kept singing. Preaching.  BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP. Every ten minutes. Until, rolling out of bed, I remembered something. 

Oh my god. THE MUG. 

I reached into the steaming contraption of dishes to make triple sure. Was it that morning that I had drunken from it? I reached in, pulled it out and stared. A teacup filled with polka dots, staring right back at me. 

By the way, those freelance dead ends? They were runways. Leaving space for a brand new animal communication partnership opportunity to arrive at my doorstep right after that lil mug incident. One that could very well help build a better relationship between humans and their animals very, very soon. 

A few hours. A few days. Several weeks. I can’t say when or how some messages will click. The ones we receive from others; the ones sent to us from somewhere else entirely. I don’t know the secrets of how it all works. Just that sometimes, many times, they do come full circle—in divine timing.

Ya never know. An annoying chime just may signal more than the end of a complete cycle. P.S. I've just added a new 40-minute live session option for the budget- and time-conscious animal caregiver. Check it out here under "Session Options."