I’ve been struggling with my faith over the last couple of years. Maybe it is a continuation of my mid-life crisis, trying to figure out what does and does not feel true to me. A letting go of the things that no longer serve me. While I do believe in a higher power, the Catholicism into which I was baptised with its vengeful God, misogyny and homophobia, hasn’t resonated for a long time.
Things came to a head a couple of weeks ago when I had a couple of writing rejections. I felt dejected, doubting my decision to work towards a more creative life. Doubting my faith further still. I couldn’t bring myself to write and so I downed tools, retreating into a period of wintering. Instead, I read, picking up a fantasy fiction novel, something that I hadn’t done for years. Absorbed in dragon riders and sorcery, I found myself longing for some magic in my own life.
Woo woo
So, and I’m going to get a bit woo woo now so bear with me, I sent out a request to the universe. “Show me the magic”, I asked. The next morning, randomly, I had an internal dialogue about abortion. While I am 100% pro-choice, I found myself wondering at what stage a soul enters a foetus. Questioning what God / the universe really thinks about the ending of a pregnancy.
Then, I took my daughter to school and completely forgot about it. When I got home I put on a podcast to make cleaning the house a little more bearable. Despite never having listened to the show before, I chose Elise Loehen’s Pulling the Thread. In this particular episode she was interviewing medium, Laura Lynne Jackson and I couldn’t believe it when, half way through the episode, Loehen asked Jackson that very specific question that I had been debating. Not only that, but her answer made complete sense to me.
I picked up both of Jackson’s books, in which she writes about how we can all communicate with the other side by asking for signs. The stories of her connection to those who have passed were impossible to ignore and I was convinced.
Faith restored
Telling my husband about this on our Saturday morning walk, I asked him, as a skeptic, what it would take for him to believe. We decided to ask his dad, who had died 20-years before, to send us a deer as a sign. Now, in the 25-plus years that I have been walking in this particular park, I have seen one deer. Plus, Jackson said that the sign might not come as you’d expect. It might not be a physical deer, it could be a picture of a deer or a tattoo or something related.
We got towards the end of the walk and … nothing. I was disappointed, but I also knew that it was a long shot. Plus, it was my first time, maybe I was doing it wrong. Then … undeterred by our unleashed dog or our noisy chatter, a baby muntjac deer emerged from the bushes. It stood in our path, looked at us for a couple of seconds and then disappeared into the foliage on the other side. My husband’s logical brain took over immediately: “They live here … it was a coincidence … ” I, on the other hand, was certain. My faith, fully restored.
Rather than a return to the religion of my childhood, however, this newfound faith feels completely rooted in love. It has given me great comfort during this uncertain time. While I don’t know what the future holds, I sense an underlying peace and contentment. I feel supported and loved and I genuinely believe that everything will turn out just fine.
The magic confirmed
The following week, on our walk, my husband and I revisited this conversation and I scoffed at his closed mindedness.
“OK, send me two deer,” he demanded, looking up to the sky.
“I don’t need further confirmation,” I told him, “and it doesn’t matter what you see, you are never going to believe.”
At home later, he walked over to where I sat on the sofa and handed me his phone.
“Look at this,” he said, looking a bit white.
A text message from a client who lives in the countryside: “I thought Kerry might like to see this”.
Attached was a photo of two deer.
