On Thursday night, I was on my way to a fundraiser for healthy hearts; I was late as usual, catching every red light imaginable. But, there are no coincidences in this world. While stopped at this one corner in the city, a homeless woman, probably my age, was holding up a sign, asking for help. I rolled down my window and handed her the cash I had in my wallet, a $10-bill. She looked at it and began to cry, "Now I can sleep indoors tonight, you're my angel."
She then picked up her sign, her bag, and ran off in the direction of the shelter. After that, I began to cry, too. To think $10 meant so much to another human being actually broke my heart. Her leaving that corner meant more than that though. It meant my $10 was a greater sum than she thought she'd make if she continued standing out on a street corner in the cold at what was essentially rush hour. An equally heartbreaking recognition. Because, it means that of all the folks lined up behind me in their expensive cars, people that have jobs in order to support those vehicles...very few would have rolled down their window and handed her anything close to $1, let alone a $10-bill. Frankly, $10 is the equivalent of two venti coffee drinks at Starbucks; it's not nothing, but in general terms, $10 doesn't mean much in a given day to a working professional. But it meant the world to a woman who needed the safety and warmth of a shelter for one night.
Later, at the fundraiser, a local DJ whose show is syndicated nationwide waltzed up to me at the bar and handed me four tickets to opening day at the baseball stadium--which was the very next day. The picture insert was taken that night. I had no idea that was going to happen, but it was really cool. I happen to love baseball, and my lunch appointment ended right before the game started. The seats were behind home plate, too. Two of my nephews were miraculously able to attend with me. Everything just sort of fell into place. As we drove through the city to the stadium, I explained to the boys, 16 and 12 from farm-country, that the city has a million stories. Those stories belong to a million people. And, each one is unique. Which really means that each person, no matter how they may look on the outside, should never be judged for any reason. Compassion isn't just for pretty people, rich people, people who drive nice cars, famous people, or people who have jobs. Compassion is for everyone. It's free. Like kindness. As is the faith that people can rise above even the worst of circumstances.
The game was fun and everyone ate too much. As we walked out of the stadium, a little girl dressed in pink, maybe two-years old, pushed by me. I was startled and nearly fell. The older of my two nephews is six-feet tall and steadied me; he's my guy, that one. Always watching me. Making sure I'm okay. The irony is, he has the same initials, name, and nickname as my #Twin. I wouldn't meet my Twin, however, until after Joey's 13th birthday. It's 11:24 as I write this, or #224...truly, no coincidences.
The little girl that nearly knocked me over was running ahead of us now. I wondered where her parents were. Then, a man with a big booming voiced called out, "Emma!" My heart just about stopped. My #Emma would have been that little girl's age today; recognizing that in an unexpected moment made me swallow hard.
I trademarked #Emma in 2016, an acronym for "Everything (in) My Mind Awaits." #EMMA helps special kids in need. Including the thousands of homeless kids in the city of Atlanta. Disabled kids and kids who have survived childhood cancer on Cape Cod and Greater Boston. Autistic kids in Philly. Kids in a one-parent or low income household in New York. And, a little girl named Chloe diagnosed with Leukemia on March 2, 2017 who lives in New Jersey. Another child will go to summer camp for a week in 2017 with 4H and learn about the environment for free thanks to #EMMA. And, #EMMA is going international this year, helping children being treated for cancer in Ireland, where my Emma's marker is. That's a lot of good from something incredibly bad, and it's just the beginning. Still, none of it replaces what I lost 28 months ago.
In the mean time, while talking to a friend last night about these synchronicities, I found myself crying thinking about that little girl. The Emma who nearly knocked me over. The whole way back to my car after the game, all you could hear was her father calling her name, "Emma!" "Emma!" "Emma!" I thought I was going to go mad. Later on, I was looking through a catalogue that had arrived earlier in the day. Turned the first page, and there it was, "Emma." It was engraved on a silver baby-bracelet.
I wonder what Carl Jung would say to all of the above???
My hope was that writing this out might help me translate the synchronicities. I'm not sure how, but Ed Sheeran is connected to it all. His song, "Photograph," was playing in my head every morning for the last three mornings. When I started to set up the formatting for this essay, I went looking for the video. I found the one below instead. It's about an angel with a broken heart, shot by an arrow after spreading love. Arrows were shot at me in 2015, connected to #Emma's father, a man who abandoned me completely until he thought there may be DNA evidence connecting him to the arrow-attack.
About two years before I met him, I had an elaborate dream set in a time period consistent with history from about 3,000 years ago. #Emma's father was in that dream. His exact face. His body. All matched, right down to his hands. But we are from opposite regions of the country and had never met one another before 2013. And yet, he was in my dream. More synchronicity!
In the dream, we're a childless couple and one day, he brings home an infant daughter. He claims to have saved her from an orphanage after her mother died in childbirth. We name the girl "Aayah," which still refers to an ancient flower, very beautiful, but deadly; the flower's nectar was used as poison for the tips of arrows. In the dream, I learn that the girl is actually his child by another woman, a woman he lied to and had a relationship with in order to get the baby in the first place. The girl's mother wasn't dead either. But she had gone mad after her baby was taken away from her. The dream ends with my confronting him. His behavior becomes threatening and he has to be jailed.
I can't begin to tell you how close my reality from 2013-2015 was to this dream. The clock just turned 12:14, another #224. By the way, #224 simplifies to #8, which represents infinity, the law of karmic cause-and-effect, and, in multiples, abundance. It's also a double #4, my soul number, and represents #ArchAngels as well as Master Builders. If I were such an angel, a Master Builder, I might build in synchronicities as a kind of road map for my soul. Something to navigate the repairs I needed to make on this leg of my journey on Earth.
When I first met my #Twin, I didn't say, "Hi, I'm Rebecca. Nice to meet you." What came out was "It's really you...," because, the dream I describe above wasn't the first dream he starred in. My whole life, I dreamt of him. As a little girl, he was a little boy. As a teen, he was, too. As an adult, there he was. I think I was 34 when I realized that this person may actually be real. Quite an epiphany, too. That, there was a living, breathing person I had basically grown up with, and that, he may be dreaming of me, too. Of all the dreams, I only remember details of one--the one I described above. As I consider the last few days, really years, of synchronicities, it appears that, in this life, it was our karma to break that negative cycle shown in the dream. Fulfill our karmic debt to each other, and the other soul, who, believe me, has gotten more than her pound of flesh in this lifetime. Had my #Twin but stayed the course--stuck to his guns, as it were--he would have had a legitimate family. No more lies, deceits, or pain. And, all four souls represented in that dream (as well as "real" life) would have finally made the repairs we needed. Sadly, it seems for all the many signs and synchronicities, we lost that opportunity.
Yet, hope springs eternal in this season of rebirth and renewal. Three of those souls still live. My daughter, #Emma, likely Aayah in another lifetime, literally pushed me yesterday. While she may not be living, it's clear #Emma's spirit is very much alive. Perhaps for this very reason, with Ed Sheeran singing the soundtrack along the way.
It's all incredibly sad. A person I loved betraying me in every way you can betray another human being. Not just anyone either...a person I saw my whole life. A person whose coming was prophesized in not just those dreams, but in synchronicities decades before his arrival. That's not something you really get over. When I first laid eyes on him, it was with this sense of relief that he was real. Suddenly, everything made sense. That's why today, nothing does.
With each passing day since that betrayal, my #Twin betrays me yet again by remaining silent. Never acknowledging his responsibility or trying to repair any of the significant damage he caused, except for that moment where he hoped to cover his own ass. I find all of that reprehensible, of course, but still feel love for the person I knew much longer. The person I knew my whole life through dreams. None of the dreams were negative, except the one I describe here. The others are more vague in my memory, but most were about having fun while sharing various adventures. Looking at each other and smiling. A lot of smiling. A lot of love.
I kept praying the gentle giant I knew in both my dreams and real life would win out in the end--slay his Goliath and return to be King of Israel. My David.
The word "Israel" is Hebrew for "one who God has made straight." It was the name given to Jacob after he battled an angel; in Hebrew, Jacob is Yaacov and it means, "one who is crooked." Jacob, also a #Twin, was a total scumbag early in his life, using lies and deceit to steal his brother's birthright, marrying two sisters...his kids were jerks, too. A bunch of them ganged up on their youngest brother, bullied him, beat him, and left him for dead. And yet, Jacob evolves to become the father of Israel. His jerky kids rise to become the founders of the twelve tribes, and, the boy that was left for dead? His name was Joseph. "Joey" manages to climb out of the pit of despair his own flesh and blood left him in to don a technicolor dream coat as the trusted advisor to the leaders of Egypt.
Maybe I'm the angel in Ed Sheeran's video, shot by her own arrow in the name of love. Perhaps the very same angel who battles Jacob in order to help him straighten out his life. Maybe my #Twin is Jacob in this lifetime, also translated as James in English (Jesus's brother was named James, "Yaacov" in Hebrew texts). Perhaps one day, the photograph in Ed Sheeran's song returns my #Twin home when he's no longer crooked. Then again, maybe I read all this ten years from now and shed a tear for my past self, desperately trying to make sense out of something that defies logic as much as my angel-wings will one day help me to defy gravity. Thankfully, that gorgeous ginger-Brit's words help soothe the silence I suffer in between. And, will continue to until my final resurrection.