A nail in my tire. Leaking fluid around the engine. A home insurance bill that I forgot to pay; and therefore, my insurance had been cancelled. Not one ounce of me wanted to deal with these things. I had writing to do. I had to work. Make money. It was a dreaded day, a day that that led me to my own repairs.
First the nail. Driving to the tire shop I asked the Universe for support because my work, my writing had been going very slow. How will I ever make money when I’m moving at a turtle’s pace and having to deal with car troubles?
After 20 minutes of reading in the cold, stained chair of the tire-shop the lobby, the woman across from me spoke. She looked up from her knitting and called out to me, the unknown woman across from her. She said, “when you are starting out on a big project, you must go slow because any mistakes that you could make in a rush will go along with your entire project.” Of course, she was speaking of her knitting; yet, she was speaking to me.
After getting this message from the supportive Universe and after getting my tire fixed for free, since it was still under warranty, I headed to the insurance lady, with a drive ahead of me of about 28 miles with a climb of about 3000 feet.
The air was crisp and clean and the views spectacular. And, as usual, when I reached Flagstaff I turned left instead of going straight. Yet this time I kept driving, thinking that I’d eventually happen upon the insurance lady’s home. I got very off-track, at least that was my thought. I drove virgin ground to me. Nothing looked familiar, so I had to turn around. I took the chance at the 1st parking lot and lo and behold, it was a newspaper parking lot.
I had not reached out to any news agencies since publishing my first book. Three of my books laid on the back seat of my car, all intended to be placed in the mail to friends who had supported me during my journey to authorship. Could they have truly been intended for someone else? This thought carried in with me as I spoke to an editor. He took my book for review. The next thought that came to me was, “the next person who inquires about your book gets one of those books remaining in the back seat.”
I got hungry. I had to find my way back into town and forget the Insurance lady for awhile. Again, all turned around, I drove by a mechanic’s shop that I knew I couldn’t ignore due to the oil I believed may be leaking from my car. Their schedule was full, with no way of getting an appointment for my car. They gave me options, very pricey options. I replied, “I’m a newly published author. I don’t make the kind of money yet for those kind of repairs.” A lady waiting in the lobby spoke up. “I love books. What kind of books do you write?” So, you know where the 2nd of three books landed.
The manager of that mechanic shop was kind enough to spend 20 minutes with my car out in the parking lot. He had multiple flashlights, mirrors, sticks with mirrors and devices that I can’t describe. The leak was minor, nothing that needed to get fixed quickly. He and the shop refused to take any money from me.
I finally got the food I had been craving. I was in a better place to know how to get to the lady’s house. I almost passed it and slammed on my brakes. Several cars pounded their horns at me. But, I made it.
Once inside, and surrounded by her mounds of paperwork, the work of getting my home insurance renewed was painstakingly long. So I tried to make lots of conversation about the pictures on her desk and about any pets that she might have and about the brutal wind outside, speaking of the brutal cold pushing to creep in next.
She explained that she has much on her plate and insurance is only one of her jobs. She said she helps adult victims of childhood abuse. She said she helps people with low self-esteem, especially those who had been littered with bullets of fear in their childhoods. I tell her about my book and her head perks up from the computer. Her hands stop moving and her eyes turn toward me for the first time. “I’d love to use that book to help some of my people.”
Driving home with a bare back-seat, I make a quick swing into one of my favorite grocery stores. A thought arises that perhaps I should call a friend from back in Ohio who had attempted to call me while getting my first supportive message from the Universe that morning in the tire-shop. But, I couldn’t get out of my car to call because a lady stood against my car with her shopping cart. She’s on her phone. She turns to face me. She looks identical to my friend I’m thinking about calling. She even dawns an identical haircut. Once she has given me this unknown message and retreats, I call my friend. I shop. We laugh. She supports me and my book, completely.
I turn the wrong way leaving the grocery store parking lot. I notice a Barnes & Nobles bookstore. I quickly turn, hearing more honking horns. I don’t have a book to show the manager but he is able to pull it up in his system. And like that, my first book-signing is scheduled.
With such a supportive Universe around me, I couldn’t just rush back down the canyon and rush back home. I go to one of the most beautiful look-out points in America and just sit. I breathe in Mother Nature. I offer to take photos of couples. I meditate until the sun is about to set.
And passed by me was a day that I had dreaded. I forgot. I was completely at peace. I received the messages and the opportunities that the Universe provided from my asking. Every break-down is a chance for a repair. A repair of consciousness.