The weekend before Thanksgiving, Mr. W and I went for our usual parental visit to my parents’ house. As we were about to leave, my mom said, “Oh, I almost forgot. Your Aunt Jessica gave me a book to give you.” She disappeared for a moment and returned with John Edward’s “One Last Time.” I was surprised that my aunt would get me a spiritual book, and one that was so on-the-money something I would read on my own. Usually when people get me books I try to hide my dubious expression out of politeness. “Have you heard of him?” my mom asked. (She was unfamiliar with the author and the subject matter.)
“Yeah, he’s got his own show on TV called ‘Crossing Over with John Edward.’ I’m a huge fan.”
I delved into the book as soon as I got home, and it was a very interesting read about John’s life growing up psychic, his experiences, details on interesting readings done on clients, his theories of life and death and beyond. So interesting, that I read it all week long and then brought it with me to Vegas last weekend to continue reading over Thanksgiving.
Except for an initial awkward period when stepson first arrived Wednesday night and stepdaughter and he did not acknowledge or speak to each other, the two got along swimmingly as soon as we climbed in the car for the drive. We left about midnight and the kids chatted a bit, then slept most of the way to Vegas. Daughter slept in the den at her grandparents’ house, allowing her brother to have the other spare bedroom, which he’d initially expected to share with her. Other than these sleeping arrangements, the two hung out together all weekend and in one or the other’s sleeping quarters until they went to bed. Mr. W offered to sponsor a sportsbet on a football game for Son on Thanksgiving day (he’s now 21), Son chose what turned out to be the winning team, and per agreement, he and his sister split the winnings 60/40. The extra 10% went to Son because the two played darts with that as wager. (Actually, from my understanding, Daughter won the dart game but let Son have the 10% anyway in her weekend of demonstrating generosity to her brother.)
Daughter and I hung out at my in-laws’ (where we were staying) when Mr. W and Son went to the Strip to place and then later to collect on the bet, to allow them some much-needed father-son bonding. Both times when Mr. W returned, he reported the productive conversations they’d had regarding Son’s career choice, social scene, etc. The latest talk had Mr. W’s eyes lit up like it was already Christmas. Apparently Son asked his father about Rebecca, wanting to know how Mr. W understood the cycle of life and spirituality to work. Mr. W told him what he could, then said he wished I were there because I had more information about that type of stuff. So on the drive from my in-laws’ to the Strip one evening, Son brought up something his dad said about Rebecca and asked about what she does. I answered him and then said he should come with us sometime to her workshop when she’s in town. He said he was interested. Then he asked more questions about spirituality and I told him what I knew. This launched an interesting discussion. Daughter was in the back seat, too, but pretty silent. She did ask one question, wondering whether Rebecca’s visions were from God and whether she prays (yes to both). I wondered whether what I was saying was offending her hardcore Christian beliefs. She’s normally one to jump in on God-topics, but she didn’t. Son brought this up again in the car on our drive home Saturday night, and Daughter was completely silent this time. He asked questions, I answered the best I could, told him some stories and case studies that pointed to the existence of life after death, and reincarnation. He was fascinated. The conversation with Son then took another surprising turn. Out of nowhere, he asked into the air, “Do you think I’m competitive?”
Mr. W chortled and said, “Yeah! You’re the most competitive person I know!”
Instead of being offended, Son said thoughtfully, “Yeah, I think I’m the most competitive person I know, too. But it’s starting to affect me negatively because I get really angry, so I think I should try to do something about that.” I gently took him on an exploration of his competitiveness and encouraged him to make a new challenge for himself to go through the motions of not acting angry, even if he felt angry, and assured him that the emotions will follow. He gave the impression he would work on that. We talked about how long it takes to establish a habit, and to break an undesired habit, which is just a new desired habit taking the place of an old undesired habit.
I was floored. I’d said a few times before to Daughter, when we discuss Son’s anger or competitiveness issues, that I wish I could talk to him but he doesn’t open up to me so I can’t bring it up. Son and I had never had a heart-to-heart, never truly bonded. Not the way Daughter and I do on a semi-regular basis. I give him his space out of respect for his teenagerism, but I’ve told him that he could come to me if he wants. He never had until now.
After we got home that night, Son and I talked a little bit more, just the two of us, in the spare bedroom before we went to bed. I read him a passage in John Edward’s book that hit exactly on something he had asked me about. In Vegas, he’d asked me about the book, asking if it were an easy read. I’d told him it was interesting and not dry at all, offering to let him read it when I was done. He was interested. Now he said he definitely wants to read this book. I also suggested he watch the movie “What Dreams May Come” (Robin Williams, Cuba Gooding, Jr.), which was pivotal in my early spiritual development. We made plans for a future screening of this movie together. I disclosed my existential crisis that put me on this path of discovery when I was 21, his same age now. He seemed to be going through a mild version of what I had gone through. The future looked very bright and I was happy. But I had to make sure Daughter was okay with the conversation that didn’t exactly flow along the lines of her Christian beliefs.
I snuck into her bedroom the next morning as she was getting ready to go to church. “Can you believe that [Son] brought up that thing about his competitiveness by himself, and wanted to talk about it?” I asked.
“I know! Out of the clear blue! I was listening to my music and when he said that I was like, boop!” She made a motion like she was pulling a headphone earbud out of her ear.
I laughed, and told her I was glad she stayed quiet because, as she and I had talked about just a couple of weeks before, her prior attempts to introduce God, Jesus, the Bible, and church to her brother just made them all trigger words for him to claim he would never turn to God or Christianity. She had said in that earlier conversation that she wished she’d known then to just show him God’s love instead of talking about it, because he took it as preaching and is now totally turned off by it. As for being offended, she said not at all; she had immediately started praying, as soon as Son opened the topic, “Please, God, speak through them! Get through to my brother!” She said she’d been praying for this type of breakthrough for weeks, and although she was upset when she found out he was coming with us to Vegas, she prayed about that too and got the distinct feeling that she was being told, “Just go and be a part of it, you don’t have to do anything. There are bigger plans for him.” So she went and did not participate in the spiritual discussions, which turned out to be a good thing. Daughter and I both agreed that it doesn’t matter the path one takes to God, the point is he’s getting there.
It hit me Sunday morning, as I was reading the last bit of John Edward’s book, that the book isn’t for me, it’s for Son. The night before when he and I talked privately, he told me he’s been seeing little signs or messages that seem to be pointing him on this spiritual journey (not his term), or in specific directions. He’d wondered whether he was just forcing a connection or a pattern because he wants to believe there is one, or whether these truly are messages. I told him they’re unlikely to be just coincidences. He looked relieved. We talked about how if I’d talked to him about this stuff a month ago, he would’ve thought me crazy, but given his recent experiences, he really thinks there may be something out there, up there. John Edward’s book is fraught with examples of people on the Other Side practically moving mountains to make sure the right people here get the right messages they’re trying to convey. They use signs, other people, unexpected connections. And it only just occurred to me that (1) my aunt uncharacteristically got me this book so that I would have it with me to read over Thanksgiving (and not earlier, or I would’ve finished the book and probably not have thought about it or had it onhand to show/give him; and not later, or it wouldn’t have come up in our discussions), (2) the book addressed all the questions Son had brought up, and (3) although it was an interesting read for me, it wasn’t anything new for me, so it didn’t seem to serve me much purpose, all of which point to the very retrospectively obvious conclusion that the Other Side pulled many strings to get the book to HIM. So I finished the book on Sunday morning, explained this to him, and he gratefully took it with him when he left that afternoon.
Wanna hear some more signs last weekend? The movie we all went to see is “Hereafter,” starring Matt Damon, which turned out to be a storyline very similar to John Edward’s book. (Both kids enjoyed the movie more than they’d expected to.) And we saw John Edward posters around Vegas advertising his Group Reading appearance at the Flamingo Hotel in December. That’s a lot of confirmation that we were where we were supposed to be, and for this purpose.
We have pending plans to introduce Son to some “firsts”: watch “What Dreams May Come,” play tennis (he announced that he’d just gotten into tennis, which got me very excited because I have yet to try out my new tennis raquet), catch his first movie at the VIP theatre, and see Rebecca. I hope we really do get to do them all.
