I remember being a child in the backseat of my mother’s car the very first time I saw a pink neon sign in the window of a small house. The sign read PSYCHIC. My soul recognized it’s calling, but the child I was didn’t even know what the word meant. As if I hadn’t uttered a sound, my mother continued to drive. It would be years before I would seek the guidance of a psychic. What I sought and what I received were two completely different things. I would see this woman, to whom I fondly knew as “Nonna,” over the course of the next 17 years.
I was a new mother in search of how to handle my new life. What people don’t tell you about motherhood is that you are expected to handle the manner in which your spouse or partner chooses to parent, how you, yourself want to parent and how the grandparents choose to grandparent. I was also faced with never wanting to go to work again. I wanted only to stay with and care for my new baby. These transitions were not easy for me.
This was a time when I needed to be reassured that everything would be okay. I wanted some insight as to my life and career. I entered the side door of Nonna’s house and sat down on a lightweight chair at a small table made of plastic. The table was covered with a thin white cloth. A portrait of Jesus hung on the wall behind her as she sat facing me with her brilliance. She had crosses, a ‘thinking man’ statuette, numerous decks of cards and a heavy octagonal glass paper weight.
I was nervous because sitting across from her was like handing someone an x-ray of your soul, exposing the good, the bad, and the ugly. It was in her presence that I learned where my path in life would ultimately lead. She strengthened me and encouraged me to embrace my gift from God.
I learned of her suffering as she wept for mine. As a child, she had been harshly discouraged to use her gift. She later became an Ordained Minister and was summoned to Dallas, Texas in order for her ability to be studied.
I remember standing in my kitchen when I felt what I had known was coming. I leaned over the stove, crying as I felt Nonna pass away in her hospital bed. She came to see me after she died, before she crossed over. She told me not to be sad. She told me that everything was going to be okay and that I could handle what was coming. She smiled and turned around with her hands in the air like a child doing the dance of the hokey pokey. I told her I didn’t want her to go and I cried more because I felt so selfish. Then she pointed to a scene, her finger slightly bent underneath her wrinkled and worn skin. She shared with me a vision of a place and a gathering of souls. They were waiting for her. Of course, I said. You have more work to do. Of course, you would return home to such a huge, welcoming crowd.
What I learned from her is that I never really needed to know what my future held. All I really needed to know was who held my future. My faith in God increased in the years I would see Nonna and she recognized the tremendous amount of faith I have always had. Throughout the years I saw her, I realized what I had been receiving. It was the greatest gift one can give another: the rare and beautiful gift of hope.
Thank you for reading!