Audible Hallucinations: A Free Spirit's Journey In Discovering WHOSE She Really Is

by Betsy Meredith Hudgens

  In 2005, when I met Jason, he had a recent breakup with a woman who he had “helped” by co-signing on a van. It was something like 23 percent interest, almost a $400/mo payment, and more than a $10,000 balance on the loan. Needless to say, this didn’t happen on my watch, and nobody apparently coached him otherwise. It wasn’t long before she defaulted and he either had to make the payments himself or let his credit be trashed. Fortunately, with a lot of drama, we were able to physically get the van in our possession so he could at least use the vehicle he was paying for. He went ahead and sold his truck and used the minivan for work, but he and I were both frustrated and resentful for the fact that we got stuck with someone else’s burden. It was an expensive lesson learned regarding co-signing. To make matters worse, his ex-girlfriend refused to sign paperwork allowing him to sell the van or trade it in, so we were stuck with it.

  In 2007, after we got married and funds were tight, we knew something had to change with this situation. We both learned that even when we screw up and make mistakes, we could pray for wisdom and guidance and it would come. Together, we started thanking God that there was a solution and were fully persuaded that something good would happen. In a matter of a few months, someone literally handed us a $10,000 check without any strings attached, and we had never requested any such gift from anyone … except God. Jason paid the van off in full and received the title. Unfortunately, it still had his ex-girlfriend’s name on it so we still couldn’t do anything with it, but we remained thankful for reliable transportation that was finally free and clear of debt. In late 2008, Jason got a substantial pay raise and decided to purchase a truck. Shortly thereafter, he ran into a friend who knew his ex and still had a good relationship with her. They were in need of a good vehicle, so he just gave them the van, signed his name on the title, and trusted that they would get the other required signature to register the vehicle. That burden was gone!

  Jason and I were both thankful we had vehicles we loved and had full intention of taking care of them. In late 2007, I had taken on a sales job that required a lot of driving, so I decided to purchase an old Honda Accord that I could drive into the ground and save the mileage on my Baja. Eventually, Jason did the same thing and we parked our good vehicles in our garage. My Honda proved to be an amazing car, with very few problems. In the few years I had it, I racked the miles on it, but it was dependable and remained my primary source of transportation. On Memorial Day of 2011, I was on my way to the grocery store, as we had company coming over for a barbecue. Suddenly, I had this gut feeling that I needed to sell the Honda. It came out of nowhere and I had never even considered selling it, so I knew God was telling me something. I went home and told Jason I was going to sell it. A bit puzzled, he asked, “When?” I told him, “Right now!” I placed the car online and, within five minutes, started getting bombarded with calls. Within thirty minutes, a young man and his wife were there to take a test drive, liked it, and drove off in the Honda as my house guests were arriving.

  Later that afternoon, once our company left, I realized I hadn’t given them the key fob that automatically unlocked the doors. When I called him back, he was pleasantly surprised and commented that it’s nice to see that people still have integrity. He asked if I was a Christian and I told him that I was a believer. He proceeded to tell me that he and his wife had been in a bad accident that totaled their car and they were desperate for an inexpensive, but reliable replacement. They were praying that they could find someone who could part with a good car for a low price. That day, they were searching online, hoping they could find something, and were excited when they saw my listing. I had to laugh because that certainly explained the sudden nudging to sell my car immediately. Within a week, we decided to part with Jason’s second car as well, which also sold quickly. The combined total of what we got for both cars ended up being substantially more than what we paid for the pair. The miracle wasn’t over though. Just a few days later, we had one of the worst hail storms we had seen, and our neighborhood got blasted with golf-ball-sized hail. Had we not sold the cars when we did, they would have been cosmetically destroyed. We didn’t carry comprehensive coverage, and we would never have been able to sell them. This was just more confirmation that staying “tuned in” has its perks.

  On a side note, and on an embarrassing one at that, days prior to this hail storm, I started building a dining room table in the garage, so our good vehicles were parked in the driveway. When Jason and I crawled into bed and smelled the storm coming, we both almost simultaneously mentioned that we should move the table and get the vehicles back in the garage. Ignoring the obvious inclination, we dosed off. Within the half hour, we were jolted by the undeniable sound of bouncing hail. Though we were able to grab some blankets to throw over our hoods and minimize the damage, our laziness, and lack of listening to that internal voice, not only left us with damage to our cars and damage to our bodies in the form of welts, but it also took away from what would have been an even better story. If we had only listened to every detail!

  As I drove to Panera to write about these vehicle miracles, my Baja smelled like burning oil. I reached out to the dealership that I purchased the car from and they had me bring it in. Upon inspection, they realized that a boot was torn and grease was leaking onto the exhaust system causing the smell. Not that big of a deal, but they noticed something else as well. There was another substantial problem with the car. I am not a mechanic, but something else was broken and causing a leak. I was looking at $2,200 worth of repairs and the warranty had expired. However, seven years ago, when I bought the extended warranty, the financial agent put the wrong date on the paperwork and, as a result, the dealership, recognizing their error, honored the errant date and performed the repairs for the $100 warranty deductible. In addition, it was advised that I change the timing belt while the car was torn apart, which equated to a whopping $90. If the timing belt broke or needed to be replaced down the road, it would have been around $500. So, thanks to a beautiful series of events, I got $2,700 worth of repairs on my car for $190.

  The lesson that runs as a thread through all of these stories is the fact that if He cares about something that is nothing more than a materialistic luxury, how much more He must care about the matters of the heart. If He is faithful in these small things, I can trust Him for the aspects of my life that are of greater consequence.

  CHAPTER 14

  CLOSE CALLS

  Over the years, to a great extent reflecting back in hindsight, I have come to realize how many times I have been protected. With the events that transpired with my nerve injury diagnosis alone, I know I dodged the metaphoric bullet of unnecessarily having body parts removed by well-meaning, but misguided doctors. As I look back at many instances in my life, I know I was protected from harm. My husband and I often pray a prayer of thanks for the times we were preserved from harm and it was obvious, and for the times we were protected and remained oblivious to it. The posture of our hearts is one of thankfulness and expectation. In almost every instance that harm has come my way, especially financially, I distinctly remember having a bad feeling before I moved forward in the very decision that caused the harm. Though it’s a process, I am learning to both hear and listen to what some would refer to as God’s small still voice warning me, and that others would refer to as gut instinct. The following are a few stories in my life that illustrate what I am talking about.

  Back in the early ‘90s, I was living in North Denver, and one summer evening I was invited to dinner with some family members who were in town. I drove my old Volkswagen Bug and met them at a restaurant about forty-five minutes south of me. We enjoyed conversation and laughter for several hours, and then I headed out. When I tried to leave, the Bug wouldn’t start. It wasn’t even making a noise as if it was struggling to turn over. Thinking that it may be the battery, I tried getting it jump started, but nothing worked. I was in a bit of a pinch because my family members had other plans and couldn’t drive me all of the way home and then dr
ive back, plus I had to figure out how to get my car to the mechanic. I remember it being around 10 p.m. so my options were limited. After talking to my family, I decided the easiest solution was to stay at a friend’s house who lived nearby and have her drop me off at my car the next morning. I would simply call AAA to have it towed to my house, take my truck to class, and worry about the Bug later.

  To my surprise, the next morning the car started right up and ran just fine. When I went home to grab my books and change clothes, I turned the television on. The news was discussing a bad accident on I-25 the night before and it got my attention. At the exact time I would have been on that highway, on my way home after dinner, there had been a fatal accident and the highway had been shut down for hours. Though I had no idea if I would have been in the accident, I was relieved that I was on my friend’s couch sleeping rather than sitting on a shut-down highway in the middle of the night. It is one of those moments that has made me wonder “what if” for years, as the Bug never again had a problem starting.

  Over the years, there have been many times when I was preparing to do something and had a bad feeling. I remember one time when I was getting ready to park my car in a parking spot and it just didn’t feel right, so I spent several minutes in the busy lot looking for another spot. Later, when I returned, I noticed a large branch had fallen on the very space where I would have parked. In another instance, I was sitting at a streetlight waiting for it to turn green and “knew” I needed to simply turn right and go a different route. It was out of my way and made no logical sense, but I went ahead and turned. Moments later, I both heard and saw (from my rearview mirror) ambulances and police cars racing to the scene of some incident on the street I would have been on had I gone straight.

  Just this past summer, I had another close call that further punctuates my experience of protection in my vehicle. I had taken a road trip, partially for business and partially because I needed the drive time to clear my head. Driving, while screaming along to loud music, has always been medicinal for me and Colorado cruising, through tree-filled canyons on winding highways that run alongside flowing rivers, was exactly what my soul needed. Just days before I left, I had a dear friend, as a gesture of support, tenderly place an acrylic stone in the palm of my hand. When I looked at it, it had an angel embedded in the stone. While I make no claims or have a belief that an object could ever protect me, it gave me a sense of love and protection that I knew I needed on that brief journey.

  I spent several days handling business and on September 9, 2011, I met with a friend from high school for lunch before I began the long trip back home. Our conversation ran long, and though I knew I needed to go, I ignored the urge to leave, which resulted in getting a later start than I wanted. In addition, when I was getting ready to make the turn that would eventually put me over Monarch Pass, I missed my turn in Montrose. I have made that trip dozens of times, so why I missed the obvious turn is beyond me, but the time it took to turn around, and get back on the right route, put me a few seconds behind. Between Montrose and Gunnison, on a winding two-lane highway, I turned the corner and was horrified at what was in front of me. It was a semi truck clearly damaged and sprawling across both lanes of traffic, and a red vehicle down in a ravine. Stunned, I watched as emergency vehicles arrived to the scene and alerted all of us that we would be there for a while. I got out and stood on the top of my car so I could get a couple bars of reception on my phone and sent the necessary texts letting people know I would be late.

  Within about thirty minutes, we were alerted that there was a fatality. After a few vehicles had turned around, I was literally the first car in a line of what would become dozens waiting to be allowed through the mangled debris. I sat in silence over the next hour as I watched Hazmat clean the highway. Eventually my stomach climbed into my throat as I watched the emergency crew bring a body bag up the ravine and place it in the coroner’s vehicle. I later learned that it was a young teenager who died. I was frustrated that I hadn’t listened to the nudge at lunch and left earlier. If I had, I would not have witnessed this. As I hung my head in disbelief, I looked over and, sitting perfectly placed and undisturbed on my console, was my angel rock, who I have since named Fabio because I decided he was a male angel with long flowing hair. It was a reminder that I had once again been protected. I was so unbelievably thankful and reminded of how fragile life can be.

  In November, shortly after this incident, Jason and I were finally settled into the house we bought a few months prior. We had the inspection done and the obvious issues were fixed by the sellers prior to closing. We knew the furnace and air conditioner were older, but because we got a good price on the house and closing costs paid, didn’t insist that any of them be replaced. We started running the furnace but immediately noticed something odd. The upper level of our house was at least seven degrees colder than the main level. We ensured that the vents were open upstairs and confirmed that the windows in the house were sealed, but nothing seemed to be working. Determining that the furnace may just need to be serviced, we called a trusted HVAC company.

  That afternoon, the maintenance technician arrived. After a few minutes of inspecting the furnace, he came upstairs to alert me of some bad news. He took me down and showed me an enormous and irreparable crack in the furnace, told me it was pumping out toxic levels of carbon monoxide, and that he was required by law to disable the furnace. I was confused because we have carbon monoxide detectors throughout the house. Even though I figured he was exaggerating, Jason and I knew we were going to eventually have to replace the furnace anyway, so we ordered a new one. The next day, when a different technician came to install the new furnace, he discovered something odd. This was a downdraft furnace system, which means the furnace pumps air down through the crawl space and then back up through the house. When he was inspecting all of the duct work in the crawl space, he discovered a big hole in one of the ducts, which was apparently put there for a vent, but the vent was never installed, leaving the hole. He shared with me that all of the warm air, along with the lethal levels of carbon monoxide, was going down into the crawl space and out of this big hole. It wasn’t making it upstairs to our bedrooms. I now understood why the carbon monoxide detectors were remaining silent. Once again I smiled, in gratitude.

  Through these experiences and many others throughout my life, and the lives of those around me, I live in peace knowing that I have the choice to tap into Divine protection. I know that a lot of my biblical buddies will likely get very defensive, but I will respectfully disagree with their belief and interpretation of scripture that implies that sometimes God either personally creates bad circumstances or allows us to encounter tragedy to teach us something. I can have that doctrinal debate on a one-on-one level, but there is one aspect of this topic that is undeniable. Humans seem to be the only species that instinctually have a sense that something is wrong, ignore the feeling, and then walk right into the danger anyway. I am not talking about facing our obstacles or overcoming our insecurities. I am talking about those moments when we know we shouldn’t answer the door and we do anyway; we know we shouldn’t take a trip, or a certain route, and we do it anyway. If we get a bad feeling about something and do it anyway, how can we possibly attribute the disastrous result as a lesson that God either initiated or intended?

  My goal is to remain in peace and keep chaos at a minimum, so it’s not so noisy that I miss the warnings like I have before, and suffered the consequences physically, emotionally, financially, and, as recent events have punctuated, within my relationships. For the times in my life where I was protected and it had nothing to do with following my gut, I remain in a place of gratitude and humility.

  CHAPTER 15

  UP, UP AND AWAY!

  I, like many people, tend to see symbolism in various things that happen in life. A song may come on the radio at an ironic time, or I hear a name, see a photo, or experience something that gets my attention on a deep level. Nothing illustrates this phenomenon in my life
more than something that happened in September of 2011.

  Just a few months earlier, in May, circumstances arranged themselves in a way that allowed me to be part of a small, but powerfully intense, prayer group. The result seemed to be the stirring up of all of my emotional wounds. I was becoming aware of the unforgiveness I was carrying, negative behavioral patterns rooted in fear, and what seemed to be an endless list of emotional trigger points. I was caught off-guard one day when I realized I still carried hurt as I shared my upbringing at the ranch. “Really?” I thought to myself. I had been up there in 1999, 2002, and briefly in 2009, and I sincerely believed I had grieved that loss. Painful memories and random grieving can be as annoying as a cricket that you know is in the room and can’t find, but as soon as you turn the lights off to rest, there it is again. My guards were noticeably coming down. I was starting to trust and build meaningful relationships, and as a result, the remaining residue from my past was rearing its annoying, chirping head!

  In September, the day before Jason and I were to leave for a second honeymoon in Boston, I got one of the strongest “nudges” I felt in years. Keep in mind, from May to September, despite the persisting annoyance, I made a choice to go deep, and stay both vulnerable and raw, so that some of my deepest wounds could be exposed and healed. I knew I needed to make one final trip to the ranch, and happened to be going to a meeting in Denver with a friend anyway, who I believed would understand my connection to the land of my childhood. I invited her to go along with me and she graciously obliged. In addition to simply driving back to the ranch, there was something else I felt strongly led to do.