I am rarely in “the right place at the right time.” Up until about eighteen months ago when I lost my son, I didn’t really believe in karma, the power of the Universe, a chosen path, or the luck of the draw.

But I am starting to learn, through a whole lot of soul searching, my own brand of praying to my sweet angel, many sessions of grief counseling, and endless efforts to expand my spirituality, that maybe there really is no such thing as coincidence.

For most of my life, I have longed to be in control. I needed to have a tight grip on my relationships, my career, my health, my finances. I certainly know how to have a good time, and I try to be easy-breezy when making plans that involve others. But, when I got hurt, I was quick to place blame. When I was losing, I wanted to find a way to win. I wouldn’t be out-argued, I wouldn’t be bullied, and I wouldn’t fold in the face of fear.

Unfortunately, bad things happen to good people. And I know the only thing I can really control is myself, and even that is sometimes impossible. I tell myself to let go, hoping to relinquish a little control, and accept whatever fate may be in store.

I stopped by a fundraiser the other day at a non-profit organization that is very close to my heart and has been a big part of my life. They were hosting a rummage sale of donated items and I found lots of goodies for $2 and $3 dollars. I was sorting though piles of clothes and shoes and came across a table of housewares.

There was a variety of items including drinking glasses with one or two  missing from the set, spice racks, a couple mirrors, and a few footstools. Laying under a pile of coasters, on top of a single bar stool was a wooden sign. It was the only one I saw in the entire room and out of curiosity, I picked it up and read it.

“If I listen closely, I can hear the rustle of Angel Wings and know that you’re still with us.”

I realize every moment of every day, I’m in “the right place at the right time” and my angel is just a whisper away.