Signs

 Jim and I both have a tendency to believe in signs. To be aware of small things that seem to be there for a purpose. Coins. Cardinals. I have a thing for bird feathers, and often I find the larger ones staring at me when I open a car door, or walk out of a building. Beautiful and perfect, it could be laying there... obvious... a Forrest Gump moment just for me. Like an answer to a question that was looming. I found several over three weeks of ICU trips back and forth, in my path. Fresh. Ladybugs and butterflies find Jim, no matter where. It could be because he smells good, but I think it's more about the energy he has. They will often flit around, collar to pocket to shoulder...take off and land on him again and again.

If you are open to seeing. You see. If you are open to hearing. You hear. If you are open to learning. You learn.

Driving down a nearby street regularly, I pass two small churches within a block of each other. The kind that probably struggle to meet budget every month. They both have letter signs in the front lawn. Old ones. Black frames with white-ish backgrounds that you change the big plastic letters to form messages. And, each time I have passed, the signs have had more than welcome messages. They felt personal. Fresh. Perfect. " Stand strong on your faith...", "Find answers...focus on God." Obviously these could fit any circumstance, because they are truth. But, I'd rather think they were there to strengthen my purpose for the day, so I had more resolve. More to offer Jim. More for other people, too.

So, to the little churches, in the little places with 50 year old plastic letters, even if one of us reads your posted scripture...and feels a little better...a little stronger...a little less unsure...your signs matter. And, maybe ladybugs and butterflies will want to follow us around to get a little of that.