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My Grammy took my hand as we stood in the dimly lit hospital room. The rhythmic beeping of a machine monitoring my dad’s heartbeat cut through the silence.
My dad just survived his third heart attack in nearly as many years. One that I woke up to witness him having in the middle of the night.
He had just come out of quadruple bypass surgery. His doctor allowed immediate family into ICU to see him since they were unsure if he would make it through the night.
At nearly nine years old, I stood feeling helpless—my least favorite feeling.
“I’m scared,” I said looking up at my Grammy, my dad’s mom.
She took my hand in hers while reaching her other hand into her pocket. She pulled out a set of beautiful gold heart shaped rosary beads. She let go of my hand long enough to place them in it and curl my fingers around them.
“Pray. God has it now,” my Grammy said as tears spilled onto my face. She knew I was terrified, but she was asking me to choose faith over fear.
I had been enrolled in Catholic school since Pre-K. My Nonno was a deacon in the Catholic church. I attended every Sunday. It was nonnegotiable. I could recite prayers from memory. I knew the rhythm of mass, exactly when to sit, stand, and kneel. However, it wasn’t until that night that I understood what it meant to have faith in something bigger than me, a power I couldn’t see.
I suppressed or repressed memories from that day successfully until about 31 years later. It’s funny how unresolved fears come bubbling back up to the surface when we’re faced with new life events.
“I was on a walk today, and I thought of something,” my dad said on what has become a daily phone call to one another. (He not only survived but has thrived since his last heart attack.)
“Ok, I’m ready,” I said curiosity rising.
“I found Grammy’s rosary beads. I know she wanted you to have them,” my dad said as I was taken completely off guard.
My Grammy passed away when I was in college. Where had they been all this time? I wondered.
My dad and I agreed to meet for lunch the following day so he could give them to me. After we settled the bill and said our goodbyes, I sat in my car holding the rosary beads. I felt the smooth edges of the hearts rolling them over my fingertips.
Overthinking the possible reasons the rosary beads reemerged wasn’t yielding any answers. I had no choice but to shift my car into drive. After driving several miles, the words appeared so clearly in my mind.
Have faith.
A whisper, the way that intuition does, unlike the noise our logical minds create when racing. It’s the answers that come from being still, or not actively thinking, that I believe to be true messages from a higher power.
I recently embarked on some new career and personal ventures in my life. As with most things we’ve never done before, it’s both exciting and a little intimidating at times.
Too often, we start on a journey and the path ahead isn’t entirely clear and we let old patterns and unresolved fears get the best of us.
Though there are times when staying complacent seems appealing, there’s a deeper level of knowing I’ve outgrown those spaces, and there’s no turning back now.
I believe if our hearts are pulled toward something, that feeling is guiding us, that’s our direction. And we should follow it even if it defies logic because when we choose to have faith in the unseen, that’s when real growth happens and miracles unfold.
“Both faith and fear require you to believe in something you cannot see. You choose!” ~ Bob Proctor
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