Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous - cont'd...

Butterfly Donna

When I saw Donna, I was captivated: there was something truly beautiful about her. She had such a presence that, even if I think of her now, it warms my heart in a tender way.

I met her at Bristol Cancer Centre. After my own diagnosis with cancer, I had soon decided that I would do all I could to survive, so I travelled down there with my friend Andy. I remember sitting in a room full of patients suffering from varying degrees of cancer. We introduced ourselves and, as soon as I saw Donna there, I recognized a certain purity and gentleness in her that captivated me.

Donna had a terminal brain tumour and the hospital had said they couldn’t do anything else for her. On that first day, she was dressed all in white and, to this day, that’s how I remember her. She could hardly walk, it was difficult for her to talk and she had a patch over one eye, but there was a lovely grace about her that shone through from within. We spoke about a lot of things on that day and she inspired me more than anyone that I’d met before. We said we would keep in touch and I couldn’t wait to hear from her again.

Donna never gave up living, in fact she lived more that anyone I knew. Although she was very ill, she decided to travel to a lot of countries and she wrote to me, even though writing took her considerable effort. Everywhere she went, from the mountains of Tibet or Sai Baba’s ashram in India, she told me about the wonderful things she had seen, and yet she said that despite all this, the only God that she really believed in was the one within herself. Her letters were always full of enthusiasm, so full of vitality and life; ironic for one who had such little energy and vitality and such little time left.

We kept in touch for many years via those letters; she inspired me in my search for meaning in my own life; she shared her thoughts and allowed me to open up in my own way. Yet all the time, there was clearly something I can only describe as a ‘knowing’, which lay beneath the peace and serenity that she emanated. I believe that she was closer to her God than anyone I’d ever known.

The day that Donna died, I knew it instinctively. On that day, I remember walking over to a local park, it was a beautiful peaceful morning, the sun was already hot and I took myself off to a quiet, hidden part of the park, where I sometimes practiced a little yoga. As I began my practice, I held Donna in my mind; tears rolled down my eyes; God knows what anyone would have thought if they would have seen me. As I lay down to relax, I closed my eyes, and as I opened them, a beautiful little white butterfly landed on my heart and it lay there for about five minutes. Now I don’t know about reincarnation, but to this day, if you ask me what that was all about, I’ll swear that it was Donna.

When we met, she was all in pure white - and so was the butterfly. Even if you can’t believe that, it is an amazing coincidence, and coincidences are God’s way of remaining anonymous aren’t they?

Sally’s Cry for Help

At one of the centres where I worked, the therapists would occasionally get together and have a chat over a cup of tea. I was speaking to one reiki therapist there whose name was Sally; I asked her when she first got to know about reiki and she told me the following interesting story.

“I remember the first reiki meeting that I went to. There was a reiki weekend in December on the coast of Devon, so I decided to go along and see what it was all about. It was really inspiring and I just knew that it was for me, I’d been very low before I went there and the whole weekend was just the tonic that I needed.

I was a little anxious about travelling there alone, but it was well worth it. The journey down hadn’t been too bad, but the problems began on the journey back. I started out in the early evening, it was cold, traffic conditions weren’t good and they deteriorated as I went on. It was getting late and the rain began to lash down. Somewhere along the way I got lost and panic began to set in, but still I held it together saying to myself, ‘I’m safe in the car, nothing will happen,’ just reassuring myself along the way. I managed to get back on track, but by this time it was pitch black and the weather was horrendous. There was so much rain that visibility was almost down to zero: but I was safe in the car wasn’t I, nothing could happen, right? Wrong, the car began to stutter and eventually came to a stop - in the middle of the motorway! I had almost no visibility, cars were whizzing on both sides of me, hooting their horns. I put on my hazard lights: now I was really scared!

What do you do in that situation? There were no mobile phones at that time; I was stuck in the middle of the motorway: it was awful! I just did what came automatically; I prayed my heart out, "God please help me, please God, help me out here.”

I sat there for a minute or two, cars still hooting as they zoomed past. I slid out of the car door, praying that I wouldn’t get knocked over. I got soaked within seconds as I slid around to the front of the car. What could I do? I prayed again, "Help me God, please send help."

As soon as I had finished praying, right in front of me, I saw white lights in the distance coming towards me. Completely drenched and barely able to focus through the rain, I watched the lights draw nearer, until they were a few feet away.

“Alright love, need some help don’t ya?”

It was a taxi driver - I swear he was sent by Heaven. He asked me where I needed to go, I told him and he said I could get back in my car. The passing cars were still beeping, but he was very calm and smiling and just took no notice of the other cars or the rain. He towed me all the way home. When we arrived, I got out and thanked him from the bottom of my heart, "No problem love," he answered, happy as Larry.

I said, "Let me just pop in the house and put something dry on." I was in the house for less than two minutes and when I came out, he was gone.

I never knew who he was, but I know that my prayers were answered that night.”

Henry’s Millions

Henry was another man that I met at the hospice; I was asked to see him for relaxation therapy, to help him along with the chemotherapy treatment he had just finished. He was, and still is, a gentleman in every sense of the word, a charismatic man who has lived a life-and-a-half. At seventy-five years old he had three lady friends, all of whom knew nothing about the others; that, in itself, was a master plan.

I continued to treat Henry long after his days at the hospice had come to an end. He would tell me tales of his days in the Monte Carlo Rally; his time as a gunner in the air-force; about when he showed Prince Charles around Birmingham, and other fascinating stories.

When he came out of the air-force he had just his £25 bursary – that was it. He decided what he wanted in life, so he wrote a plan on his bedroom wall stating that by a certain age he wanted this, by a later age this, and to retire wealthy at 50. He achieved this and more.

I want to tell you briefly the story of how he got started in business, in his own words, as well as I can remember them.

“There was someone I met who was good with cars, as I was, and we began fixing cars together and later on we had a little garage, but the truth was that my partner was a drinker and this got the better of him. In the end, I was carrying him and doing all the work. Then, one day, he borrowed a car and smashed it up because of drink. That was it! I knew he was going to ruin me, so I got out.

I went to look at other garages to see if I could set up on my own, but they were all very expensive, the equivalent to about a million pounds in today’s money. I searched and searched but it was no good. After one such trip to see a garage, I gave up and headed home despondently, thinking that it was all over. I was going down the Bristol Road, when my car began to splutter and slowly ground to a halt. ‘Great,’ I thought, ‘just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse.’

I managed to pull over to the side, and sat their pondering ... when suddenly I looked up –about 30 yards ahead, set back from the road, was an old dilapidated garage. I walked over and – I’ll never forget this – I went in and behind the counter was an old chap who said, ‘Can I help you squire?’

I said, ‘Yes, I was wondering’ … I started to look around, it was a bit broken down, a lot of work, but I could make a go of this, ‘Are you interested in selling this garage?’

He was taken aback, ‘Well, as it happens squire, I would.’

In this way, my business began, I borrowed money from the bank, from friends and family, and I built up the business from there.”

“We were the first garage in Birmingham to have petrol pumps,” he proudly told me.

Eventually, Henry had a few more garages, he made his money and retired before 50, but he never forgot the coincidence of breaking down when he did, just when he thought all was lost.

Life guides us one way or another doesn’t it!