Signs

by Laura Lynne Jackson

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  Elana was set up with her eventual husband, Steven, by a mutual friend with an uncommon knack for matchmatching. “She was very, very good at it,” Elana says. “She lied and manipulated to get us together, and she waited us out while we were dating other people, and finally she told me Steven was really interested in me, and she told Steven I was interested in him. And, you know, she was right. Steven turned out to be the guy.”

  They got married, and when they were in their early thirties, they had a son, Noah. “He was a beautiful child with no medical issues,” Elana says. “But when he was around fourteen months, I started to notice that something was different. He wasn’t talking, which is okay, but there was something different about the quality of the interactions he was having with other kids.”

  Eventually Noah was diagnosed as having autism. “He was very high functioning, and he was social and told jokes,” Elana says. “But his ability to be calm and regulated, and to deal with any minor frustration, was incredibly limited. He could get very aggressive and have lots of outbursts. Not being able to find his shoes, slamming things, screaming and yelling. He was emotionally fragile.”

  Elana and Steven had always believed they would have a second child. They both agreed that they didn’t want Noah to be an only child. But the complexity of his situation—and the knowledge that it would not get any easier—made them reconsider. “I really wanted Noah to have the typical family experience of having a sibling,” Elana says. “But at the same time, I felt like I already had more than I could handle in life. I was overwhelmed by the thought of having another baby, especially since, when you have one child who is autistic, the chances of having another are much greater. To be honest, it was really frightening. So in my mind, I was ninety-nine percent convinced that we wouldn’t have another child.”

  And yet Elana did not want to completely close the door on the decision. After she turned forty-two, it was her husband who suggested they needed to figure it out once and for all. “He had accepted that it was going to be my decision,” says Elana. “But he was like, ‘Okay, is it yes or is it no? We need to know one way or another. We can’t live with this question mark.’ ” And yet Elana still couldn’t decide.

  The weekend after she and Steven had their talk, Elana attended a spirituality seminar. One of the empowerment exercises required her to write a letter to God, then write a second letter from God back to her. “I’ve always felt like I have a hard time getting messages from the Other Side, because my mind is too active and chatty, and I can’t distinguish between a sign and intuition and what’s already in my mind,” says Elana. “But then I wrote these letters, and when I sat back and read the second letter, the letter from God, I was completely shocked.”

  The letter from God told Elana that she would have another child, and it would be a girl, and the girl would be named Ahava.

  “Even though I wrote it, I was taken aback by what I was reading,” she says. “I was really shaken; it was so powerful. I got right on the phone and told Steven, ‘We are having this baby.’ ”

  Not much later, Elana got pregnant. She was happy, but “it wasn’t a pure happiness,” she says. “I was still too scared. It was like I wasn’t ready.”

  After just one month, she miscarried.

  The miscarriage gave her even more reason to doubt the feeling she had deep inside—that having another baby was the choice she most truly and honestly wanted to make. “Steven and I went to counseling, and we talked everything over and we tried to just get to a place where we could be ready to do it,” Elana says. “I felt one thing in my heart, but then I kept thinking, What if the fear is right? What if this ruins my life?”

  One of the measures Elana took to find some clarity was to contact me and set up a reading. Her goal in talking to me was simple and clear: “All I wanted was for someone to tell me if I should have the baby or not.”

  But that’s not what happened during the reading. Elana didn’t get the straight answer she so desperately wanted. The Other Side provided affirmations and messages, but no one came through to announce, definitively, that she should or shouldn’t have another child.

  Instead, the Other Side showed me that Elana had a soul contract with her son, Noah. They were meant to be together, but it was a purple contract, and the color purple signifies something that is very complicated and difficult. All of that made sense to Elana, who loves her son dearly and is devoted 100 percent to his care and well-being. But as for having another child, all the Other Side showed me was that the choice belonged to Elana.

  “I was told that it would be a free-will choice,” Elana says. “That the journey of my life was like a beautiful hike, and the hike would be more beautiful with this other companion, this other soul, but that it would also be okay if I didn’t have this companion. It was part of my journey to make the choice myself.”

  The message was deep and powerful and brightly lit with love. The soul of the child who miscarried was a soul that had traveled with Elana’s soul for many, many lifetimes, and they were meant to be together, but if it didn’t happen in this life, then it would happen in another.

  “You are really on the fence about this,” I told Elana. “You’re like sixty-forty. And if you do it, the first year will be really difficult. Your whole life will be disrupted for a year. But it really is okay if you decide not to do it. The two of you will be together again sometime. And when you are, it will be very, very lovely. But if you choose to have this child, they are showing me that it will be a girl.”

  This wasn’t quite the answer Elana had wished for. She wanted a clear yes or no. But that just wasn’t something the Other Side could give her. The choice was hers to make.

  Then Elana asked, “Will she have the same issues as Noah?”

  “No,” I said, “the soul contract with this child is different. She will not have autism. And you will make the decision soon. Within the next ten days or two weeks.”

  That weekend, Elana had plans to get on a plane and attend a women’s conference with four good friends. “I told myself, ‘Okay, by the end of the conference, I will know what to do,’ ” she says. “ ‘One way or another, I will know.’ ”

  The first day of the conference passed, and Elana was no closer to having the clarity she needed. Then the second day passed, and the conference ended, and Elana still didn’t have her answer. She got on a plane and flew back home, and found herself in the airport still confused, still undecided. “I went into the airport bathroom, and I went into a stall, and I said, ‘This is it. Something is going to happen to let me know what to do right now. By the time I leave this stall.’ ”

  And then…nothing happened. No sign, no message. Nothing. “Okay, then,” Elana said to herself, “I guess I just have to choose.”

  She came out of the restroom and told her friends, “I’m having another baby.”

  Just like that. Two weeks later, she was pregnant. Nine months later, her beautiful daughter, Ahava, was born.

  Ahava is the Hebrew word for “love.”

  “She is incredible,” Elana says of her daughter, who is now three and has shown no signs of being autistic. “She is the absolute light of our lives. And her connection with Steven is this crazy connection. From the moment I told him my answer was yes and I got pregnant, he was reading kids’ stories to my belly and kissing my belly and just getting so excited to meet her. And when she arrived their eyes locked together, and now she shakes with joy whenever he walks into a room. They have a very deep soul connection.”

  Elana’s son, Noah, too, has developed a powerful bond with his sister. “The first year was very hard because she had colic, but we got through that, and now Ahava is so strong and so spirited, and she knows how to handle Noah,” Elana says. “She is like a little boss with him. They have a very sweet and very loving connection, too.”

&n
bsp; As for Elana—who was in an airport bathroom stall when she found that the answer she was seeking was hidden within her all along—Ahava’s arrival has been like a prophecy fulfilled. “It was like she’d been hanging out on the Other Side, waiting to see if I would give us the experience of being together in this life,” Elana says. “I felt like I already knew her. I felt like I already had her in my life.”

  Elana had waited and waited to get an overt sign from the Other Side that would let her know which way to go. But the Other Side, as she puts it, “was radio silent on this whole baby thing.” And yet throughout the decision-making process—even the times when Elana had all but convinced herself that her answer would be no—she never completely shut the door on having a second child. Why not? Why didn’t she just say no?

  “Because when I look back on it now, I think I was getting a strong gut feeling for years that I really did want to have this child,” Elana says. “In my heart of hearts, I knew there was a daughter waiting for me. But that hope was sitting on one shoulder, and on the other shoulder was the fear. And the fear prevented me from trusting my gut feeling, my inner knowing.”

  In the end, she didn’t need an overt sign or a message from the Other Side. The answer was already there, in her “heart of hearts.” All she needed to do was trust in that gut feeling, that undeniable pull, that inner voice.

  “I had to believe that God put this powerful desire in my heart, and that I wasn’t going to get kicked in the teeth if I said yes,” she says. “I had to trust my heart more than I believed in the fear, and that is a hard thing to do. But once I realized the only one who could give me an answer was me, I was left with two scenarios—one that made my heart sing, and one that was a place of terrible loss and despair. And so I trusted the singing of my heart. I trusted that the universe would not steer me wrong.”

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  Sometimes a sign can be just a tiny whisper in our heart. An inner pull, a soft voice, or a gut feeling. All we need to do is learn how to trust it, to remain open to it, to listen for it, and to honor it when we feel it or hear it. This is not always easy to do, especially when we find ourselves going through a dark time. Darkness leads to confusion, and confusion leads to fear. And fear is the enemy of trust and hope and love.

  In these dark times, our Teams of Light on the Other Side will always try their hardest to let us know we are not alone. They will do whatever they can to send us signs and affirmations and messages of love and hope. But if the fear is too great, if the darkness is too intense, we might not see these signs. We might not feel the pull or hear the voice. We may be too closed off by grief and despair and fear to be receptive to the Other Side.

  But the Other Side will not stop trying. Our Teams of Light will always try to steer us toward the love-based decision and pull us toward the answers that already reside inside our heart of hearts.

  For inside each of us, there is a connection to a deep and beautiful wellspring of love and knowing. Sometimes, it’s finding a way to be silent enough to hear the tiny whispers that matters most of all.

  Who in your life has been such a servant to you…who has helped you love the good that grows within you? Let’s just take ten seconds to think of some of those people who have loved us and wanted what was best for us in life—those who have encouraged us to become who we are….

  No matter where they are—either here or in heaven—imagine how pleased those people must be to know that you thought of them right now.

  —FRED ROGERS

  28

  A GIFT OF LOVE AND FORGIVENESS

  NOT long after I appeared on a TV show to promote my first book, someone on the staff of the show reached out to me with a personal request.

  “My husband’s sister Leslie suffered a loss, and she’s been stuck in her grief for a long time,” this person wrote. “She is not living her life, and we thought you might be able to read for her and possibly help her.”

  Even as I was reading the email, I felt a strong pull to speak with this woman. I didn’t know who Leslie was or what had happened to her, but I knew that she and I were supposed to cross paths. I wrote back and said I’d be happy to read for her.

  Once I’d opened that door, I felt a younger male presence pushing through. I felt a “son” energy coming from him. He made it very clear that the reading was going to be a gift from him to his mother. I immediately knew that meant I was not supposed to charge his mother any fee for the reading. Once in a while, someone from the Other Side will come through and insist on a reading being a gift. And when the Other Side speaks, I listen.

  The reading took place a few days later, over the phone. Right at the start, the same male energy came through. This time, he gave me a J name—Jon. He also took responsibility for his crossing. And he quickly mentioned that his mother’s birthday was coming up soon. I asked Leslie if she had a son who’d crossed, and if he had a J name, like Jon. She said she did. I let her know that he was apologizing and taking responsibility for his crossing.

  “Well,” I told her, “this is your son’s birthday gift to you.”

  Leslie began to cry. Her pain and grief were clear. I sensed that her birthday held some additional meaning to her and to her son, but I didn’t know yet what it was. Then Leslie explained why she was so moved by her son’s gesture.

  “Five years ago,” Leslie said softly, “my son killed himself on my birthday. I was the one who found him.”

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  When Leslie was just ten years old, she got a download from the universe that let her know she was going to have two children. The download also made it clear that something would happen to the children’s father, and as a result Leslie would live the rest of her life like a nun. It was an odd premonition for a ten-year-old to have, and in the years that followed Leslie, for the most part, put it out of her mind.

  But then she went on to have two children, and not long after that their father walked out on the family. Leslie never remarried and devoted the rest of her life to caring for her children. “That’s when I understood why I saw the figure of a nun when I was ten,” Leslie says. “That was the only way my ten-year-old self could interpret what would happen in my life.”

  When Leslie was pregnant with her second child—her son Jonathan—she got another download from the universe.

  “I had the strong sense that my child wasn’t going to live a long life,” she explains. “Every ounce of my being told me he would not live a full life. I even felt that I knew when he would pass on—between the ages of twenty-two and twenty-eight. I just had to accept it, and move ahead, and try not to think about it.”

  Jonathan turned out to be an exceptional boy. He was incredibly smart—his IQ was over 160—and incredibly gifted. He loved to draw and paint, and one of his childhood paintings—a haunting depiction of broken shards of glass—still hangs in Leslie’s home. “He loved doing puzzles and reading books and making these little movies with his classmates in them,” Leslie says. “He was the sweetest little boy. We had an extremely close relationship.”

  Jonathan was four when his father left and became an incidental presence in his children’s lives. It was a wound, says Leslie, that never healed. “The pain of losing his father never left him,” she says. “It tortured him forever.” When Jonathan was fourteen, a classmate came over and offered him marijuana for the first time. “It was like the devil himself coming to the door,” Leslie says. “Jonathan started with pot, and at seventeen, heroin entered the picture. After that, he was in and out of rehab all the time. He was fighting to reclaim his life.”

  Jonathan’s struggle with addiction was long and painful. There were days when it felt like his life was draining away. On one particularly bad day, Jonathan stayed in his bedroom in Leslie’s home and lay listlessly in bed. “He seemed so fragile,” Leslie remembers. “He was like a little baby. I
brought soup up for him and I spoon-fed it to him. I told him I’d lined up a bed for him in rehab, and he said, ‘Mom, I’m done. I don’t want to deal with this anymore. I just don’t want to.’ ”

  Leslie didn’t press him and told him to try to rest. As she gently closed his bedroom door, she thought of something Jonathan had told his grandmother just a few days before.

  He had said, “If only I hadn’t been an addict.”

  Leslie had seen her son endure many such moments of despair before. She hoped some sleep would make him feel better, so she turned off the light and went downstairs. Leslie is an accomplished pianist who was working as a piano teacher. That day, she had a girl coming over for a lesson.

  Toward the end of the lesson, Leslie heard a loud and startling noise upstairs.

  “It sound like someone banged the floor with a cookie sheet,” she says.

  She excused herself from the lesson and went upstairs with a rising sense of unease. She tried to open her son’s bedroom door, but it was locked. She banged on it, but there was no answer. She went back downstairs, where, thankfully, the girl’s father had arrived to pick her up. As soon as they were gone, she ran back up to Jonathan’s bedroom.

  “I banged on the door and called out his name,” she says. “Finally, I threw all my weight at the door and forced it open.”

  She saw her son lying on the floor in the back of the room. His face was covered with blood. Leslie screamed out to no one, “My son is gone.”