Miracles Abound

The new year began with a shock for me—

I had just been to my children's school to discuss their progress with an administrator (and was delighted to discover they're doing well), when I pulled out of the parking lot and headed down the long, winding road towards home. Our house is a little over ten miles from the school, and it was an icy morning in the mountains of Colorado, so I was on high alert for motorists who might underestimate the slick roads. Fortunately, most people who live out here in the country are well aware of the tricky winter conditions, and to my naked eye, everyone appeared to be handling the trek well.

But my eyes deceived me.

It wasn't that anyone was speeding or attempting to text while driving. In fact, the other motorists were maneuvering quite cautiously. On top of that, I was driving ten miles per hour below the speed limit.  

Yet just ahead and to the right of the main highway, I noticed a woman in a large SUV on a side road pulling up slowly to a stop sign. She couldn't have been moving more than ten miles an hour, obviously making adjustments for the weather conditions. Nevertheless, in the blink of an eye, her vehicle slid directly into my lane. Still sliding, the SUV was so large that within seconds it occupied nearly the entire width of the road, and the poor woman stared in horror from her driver side window at my oncoming car that was only a few feet from her door.

I know enough about winter driving in the mountains to realize that brakes are nearly useless in moments like this. All I could do was brace myself and swerve.

And pray.

To my astonishment, I somehow made it around her car. 

Even more surprising was the fact that, though my left-side wheels were forced to travel over an icy berm with an incline, my vehicle didn't slide. 

My relief at managing not to plow into the woman's SUV, without flipping my own car over the slick berm, was short lived, however.

What I couldn't see beyond the woman's tall vehicle, was the other car in the oncoming lane that had just descended a hill and was now only a few feet away, about to crash into me head-on.

There were no more chances to pray. 

The driver, another woman, had eyes as big and wide as the crisp, blue morning sky. The terrified look on her face, at the sight of my car about to meet hers, will be emblazoned on my mind forever. 

Our situation appeared hopeless.

There simply weren't enough feet to spare—under the ordinary laws of physics—for me to avoid her onrushing vehicle that was moving even faster than mine. 

What could I do, except try my best to swerve? 

I have to confess, I've only experienced a few rare moments in life that seem to defy all of our notions of time and space—and this was one of them. Honest to God, I'll never know how, but I was all of a sudden on the other side of the road. Wa-a-a-y over on the other side. It was as though some unseen set of arms had lifted my car and transported it from the two vehicles that appeared destined to crush me.

The highway photograph I've displayed at the very top of this post should have been the scene of my death. Of their deaths. What we three drivers were looking at was the certainty of a 3-car collision, involving two cars which were traveling at higway speeds, with no space to maneuver by anyone without crashing or flipping a couple of the vehicles. 

But instead, I found myself pulling to the far right-side berm of the road, where I took several deep breaths. I wish I could say I screamed or hyperventilated, because that would have made me seem more normal under such circumstances. But the truth was, I was filled with the most extraordinary peace. My heart was not racing, nor was adrenaline popping and fizzing through my veins. For a moment, I pinched myself, wondering if perhaps I'd died and not realized it, and therefore felt no fear or pain. After all, many people who've reported near-death experiences describe how they suffered brutal accidents and hovered over their bodies for several minutes, unaware that their souls had slipped from the flesh. By the third time I pinched myself, however, I understood that I was, in fact, still here. What's more, I spied in my rear view mirror that the first woman in the SUV had pulled to the side of the road, too, and had gotten out of her car. Immediately, I jumped out and ran down the pavement to meet her.

HOW did she escape not being hit by me or the other woman's car? How did I? From my new vantage point, I spotted the other's woman's vehicle parked alongside the road as well. Her car hadn't crashed or flipped over the icy berm, either. This situation defied all logic: There simply wasn't enough room on the edge of that mountain road to have accommodated all three of us.

When I reached the young SUV driver, who looked to be college-age, her eyes were filled with shock and her mouth was gaping, lips twitching nervously, yet unable to speak. "Are you all right?" I asked her. All she could do was nod in reply, and I instantly wrapped my arms around her. "It's okay." I assured her, "I'm not hurt." At this point I pulled back a bit and saw that her eyes were welling with tears. "I-I'm so sorry!" she blurted, shaking. "M-My brakes locked on the ice and I couldn't stop!"

I hugged her again and told her I understood—these things happen sometimes. Then I swept the hair from her forehead and gazed into her eyes. "Honey," I said, "you must have the best Angels on planet earth. Because I can see no reason why both of us are still standing here." The way she nodded and glanced at me with a spooked expression confirmed everything I'd already suspected: that she thought she there was something unnatural—no, supernatural—about this whole experience, too. 

To our relief, the other woman driver waved at us and called out that she was fine, before starting up her car and continuing back down the mountain road. But the young woman in front of me remained frozen, still attempting (and not really succeeding) to cope with what had just happened. Although I gave her another squeeze for reassurance, finally I just came out and said it: "Sweetheart," I shook my head a little in lingering bewilderment, "it's a miracle. There's no other way to describe this or put it in your brain. Like I said," I glanced at the sky for a second, "you have incredible Angels."

With that, I began to feel her tension release. Though I don't even know the young woman's name, we both understood on that cold, remote highway in Colorado that we had been, well . . . spared. That was the only explanation that made any sense.

I linked my arm through hers and walked her back to her car, where I gave her one last grip around the shoulders and told her she'd be fine. "Live your life well," I urged, "because we both still get to have one." I could see the tears pool in her eyes again as she nodded and got into her SUV, then started it up and waved while she pulled back onto the pavement and disappeared down the mountain road.

Such was our date with destiny. Obviously, as I made my way home in my car that morning, I realized I'd been shown a fleeting portal to leave this plane of existence, and yet despite all the odds, I remained here. Given that it was the start of a new year, I naturally wondered why, what purpose I'd been spared to serve. Of course, like anyone else, I have my "to-do" ideas of plans and goals for 2016, which could have easily been ripped from me in a heartbeat, along with the cherished love of my husband and children. I don't claim to know all the ramifications of why anyone is given a hall pass from an untimely death. But one thing I do know, as I drove slowly, mulling over what had just happened on the road home: My spirit somehow felt bigger than it did before. Not bigger as I think of my temporal self with all my transient ambitions, but more like boundaryless, as though something in me had expanded that day to more fully take in the morning sky. The glistening trees. The shadowy mountainsides. That cool feeling of winter breath against your lungs that slowly warms as it stirs within you before you exhale. The gentle throb of a relentless heart. And maybe that's what "miracles" are all about, those rare intersections in time and space that defy our comprehension of physical laws: they allow us to "know" something larger than before.  The confines of words may never quite articulate what that is, but the heart feels it, deep inside. And no matter where we are or what we're doing, we realize in that moment that we're supposed to be here. Something made sure of that for me on that icy morning in early 2016. 

And for me, I will continue to let it widen me inside until I fully appreciate the breadth and gift of this life.

Have you ever experienced a miracle?

 I'd love to hear about it. 

Please feel free to describe your story 

in the comments section below. <3

March of the Cranes

Every March, a miracle takes place in the San Luis Valley of Colorado. The Sandhill Cranes return by the thousands, during early spring on their migration route north, to mate & create their nests. Considered a high mountain desert area & rimmed by the spectacular snow-capped Sangre de Cristo & San Juan mountain ranges, the melting snow from the nearby mountains is enough to create wet marshes in this temperate valley that the cranes especially love for their breeding grounds. 

Yet what lends an even more epic quality to this annual beautiful migration, beyond the return of thousands of cranes (as far as the eye can see), is the fact that this species of crane has been coming to the San Luis Valley in southern Colorado for millions of years.

The phenomenon of these lovers' return is so ancient that it has been preserved in petroglyphs etched by Native Americans throughout the Southwestern U.S. for thousands of years.

Now, anyone who's read my blog or my books knows that I am as sentimental as they come and a sucker for true love! So of course it captured my attention that these elegant birds, who mate for life, are known for having a lovely heart-shaped marking on their foreheads. If you've read my novel Twixt, and seen how much I love the mysterious raven, then you'll understand why the Sandhill Cranes made my imagination soar, and I just had to use them as a symbol for the ancient lovers featured in my new novel Mission Archangel--the magical sequel to Twixt in the Enchanted Outlaws Series that tells the love story of Rose's best friend, Amy Tinker.

So while researching Mission Archangel (which will be out in 2016), I took a trip to the San Luis Valley where the novel is set to see the sights, sounds, and in particular, the beautiful arrival of the Sandhill Cranes against the back drop of the Great Sand Dunes National Park and the Sangre de Cristo mountains.

My only problem? They hadn't arrived yet! Despite the fact that I got up at dark-thirty in the morning & toted binoculars to the marsh areas of the San Luis Valley to see them in the freezing cold, there were no Sandhill Cranes to be found. Unfortunately, I'd hit the migration season a bit early in the year, so a little dejected, I went back to my hotel and picked up my husband & sons and took them out for breakfast. My children begged to go to a local skatepark afterwards, so I obliged them, and then I decided to take the long way back to our hotel on a remote country road to show my family some of the spectacular scenery of the area.

To my total surprise, and in one of the most magical moments of my life, the Sandhill Cranes began to arrive at that exact moment! I tear up just thinking about it--as my small family stepped out of our car and looked over the wetlands, the sky became peppered with the dark silhouettes of these elegant birds, arriving by the hundreds, to land in the marsh area. And I'll never forget their beautiful calls to one another as they began to arrive, with that reedy, haunting quality, as if to say, "We're here! We made it! Let the dancing begin!" Because what the Sandhill Cranes do during their mating season is spread their giant, 5-7 foot wings & leap & spiral & float in ornate dances that they spontaneously create for one another, which they began to do as we watched, spellbound, by this natural phenomenon.

My children were just as silent & mesmerized as I was as we watched these lovely birds move in almost a choreographed way for each other, with their striking white and red markings and long, elegant necks & legs.

And even though the cattails & marsh areas were still covered by frost, that didn't seem to deter the Sandhill Cranes as they gathered in huge flocks, sending out their lyrical calls that echoed over the wetlands to herald their annual greetings. 

Because this was a special "research" trip for me to stir up ideas & be inspired to write Mission Archangel, I have to admit I felt especially blessed to catch sight of these birds, and it made me feel as though my novel might have a very auspicious--and even magical--destiny. I hope this novel can measure up to this early-morning sacred moment I was able to experience,  and most of all, I hope that Mission Archangel will remind us all of the eternal beauty of the path of these ancient lovers & their enchanting return to the San Luis Valley.

Photo credit note: All images on my blog are either my own or were gleaned from pictures in the public domains of popular social networks like tumblr, facebook or pinterest. If you own the copyright to any of these images & do NOT want them used publicly, please contact me & I will take them down immediately! : )

Autumn Wonders

The writer F. Scott Fitzgerald once said, "Life starts over again when it gets crisp in the fall." And I couldn't agree more. There's just something magical about the cool air & first frosts that make you want to drive down a forgotten country lane to the nearest pumpkin patch & take time to see old friends along the way. Perhaps it's the vibrant colors that inspire us to feel more alive, or maybe it's that nippiness in the air that makes us want to huddle around a bonfire & catch up with our nearest & dearest. Whatever the spell is that Autumn so faithfully casts, one thing is certain: it's a season filled with wonder & enchantment.

Each year, I can't wait for the grove of aspens along my jogging trail to turn gold, their leaves shimmering like bright coins. And nothing spells bliss for me quite like the feeling of those delicate leaves falling all around me in a colorful confetti when the wind begins to rise. I often see the tracks in the dirt of many wild animals this time of year, such as mountain lions, deer, elk & turkey, because this is the season when the wildlife are on the move, getting in their last foraging before settling down for winter.

I also love to take wilderness hikes with my family, in awe of the checkerboard pattern of brilliant reds & oranges & yellows that lay over the mountains. This was a particularly wet year for us in Colorado, and the aspen trees have responded to the bounty with an explosion of color that's a feast for the eyes.
 

It's as though God took a paintbrush and swirled every autumnal hue possible on the hillsides in a beautiful menagerie that's enough to take your breath away.

The vistas this year are so striking that at one point during our weekend hike, my 8-year-old son paused and tugged at my shirt . "Mom," he said softly, "are we in Heaven?" I fell silent for a moment, simply allowing myself to feel the same wonderment he did. And after taking a deep breath, I replied, "Yes, I think we are."

I loved my son's smug satisfaction afterwards—as if he'd discovered Shangri La in the quiet beauty of nature & couldn't wait to show me. And to be honest, I think he did—and I've tucked that memory in my heart & given a quiet thanks to Autumn for enabling us to experience it.

If you're at all like me, you can't wait to start decorating with fall colors the minute the first day of Autumn comes & you love to collect pumpkins to carve into fun faces for Halloween. But I hope in the hustle & bustle of this lovely season that leads us up to (gasp) Thanksgiving, you'll take a moment to cherish all the quiet wonders that Autumn brings. And maybe, you'll discover that its magical silence fills your heart with a special kind of gold...

P.S. If you're looking for an enchanting novel that takes place during Autumn & Halloween,

check out my paranormal romance TWIXT, available now on Amazon & Kindle

 (Photo credit note: All images on my blog are either my own or were gleaned from pictures in the public domains of popular social networks like facebook or pinterest. If you own the copyright to any of these images & do NOT want them used publicly, please contact me & I will take them down immediately! : )

Gypsies, Tramps & Thieves

There's a romance to the road. One of my favorite novels as a teen & to this day is On the Road by Jack Kerouac, where Sal Paradise & Dean Moriarty criss-cross through America, embracing adventure & experiencing the exultant & sometimes healing effects of the "heroic present"—a state of soul that bonafide gypsies know all too well. The heroic present is a quality of life spent cherishing the here & now—the sacredness & beauty of this very moment—for despite our many well-laid plans, it's all we can ever truly possess. This "wanderer's" worldview has always resonated with me, and in fact, is echoed profoundly in my magical new adult romances in the Robbin' Hearts Series, where I write about this simple truth: "There's a little magic & outlaw in all of us—especially when it comes to finding true love . . ."

And quite honestly, I believe it's true.

I think in the back of our minds, each of us knows that we're walking upon this earth for only a short while. We're sojourners, lucky to take in the astounding beauty & grace of this life, so often amazed that we get to experience it at all. We carry the rucksacks of our hopes & dreams over our shoulders, never knowing what day we will die or whether those cherished dreams will come true. All we know is that right now, it's so wondrous—and even magical—that sometimes we have to pause & inhale a deep breath to take it all in.

We're thieves, whether we want to admit it or not—even those of us who work nine-to-five jobs & pay our fair share of taxes. We steal every awe-inspiring moment we can, knowing we only get so many of them. It's what gives meaning to our short stay on this planet—the fact that we can gaze at the clouds, feel the earth beneath our feet, tousle a beautiful child's hair & register his or her smile. Somewhere, in the mystical annals of the cosmos, these moments are stored in that same energy that brings more warm winds & glorious sunsets, more ice-laden winters of such crystalline beauty that it breaks our hearts into a million pieces & leaves us craving for more.

And yeah, I realize that perhaps my heart is more restless than most, because like so many of us whose ancestors immigrated to the United States, I come from a long line of wanderers. My husband likes to jest that "The Reeds never died where they were born." It's a fact—for a centuries, the Reeds were always pressing forward & exploring, searching for new places to taste this life & live out loud. Country to country, coast to coast is how we liked it—no borders or boundaries to hem us in. Is that why one of my first jobs as an adult was riding a mustang horse from Mexico to Canada and back, spending my nights in a gypsy wagon? Or I lived in a tiny attic for many years to work with the homeless & mentally ill in San Francisco? I decorated it with bohemian scarves & a colorful chandelier, loving the way the light struck the flea-market crystals to send vibrant hues swirling like a kaleidoscope through my nook. At night I gazed at the stars from my attic window & was convinced that I owned the whole world.

And I did. Because if I could appreciate it & tuck it into my heart, in a way, the world truly was mine. Perhaps this is what Jesus meant all those years ago when he said "Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth." We can't actually possess anything; we can only appreciate it for a while. For this reason, the homeless individuals I case managed on the street weren't simply my "wards"—they were my friends. I understood them & they understood me in a unique way that no one else does. We often sat together & marveled at the crazy mixed-up beauty of the world, sharing a smoke & chatting about these myriad enchantments that are so fleeting, yet make our hearts feel whole if we take time to notice them. I remember every conversation—every word—we exchanged, because the harshness & fierce transitoriness of their lives had etched their souls as fine as diamonds. They had a poetic & hypersensitivity to beauty & joy, because tomorrow was never guaranteed. It was a worldview I could relate to, quite frankly, because I was nearly as poor as they were, yet doggedly determined not to let that steal the beauty of life from me.

So blame it on my gypsy soul. But even though I'm more comfortable with my living situation now, I'll never forget the wisdom of the many gypsies, tramps & thieves I've known on my journey. Life is as fleeting as the warm light of a candle. They know this & so do I. If I could offer any encouragement to you today, it's to dare to wander & fall in love with life. Dare to really feel it—all of the good, the bad, and the in between. And like my characters in the Robbin' Hearts Series, dare to celebrate life whenever you can with song, dance & wonderful stories that remind you of just how big your soul has really grown. Because no matter what kind of house we have or dreams we pursue, there's a little magic & outlaw in all of us . . .

If you're in the mood for a magical romance,

check out my novels on Amazon & Kindle

(Photo credit note: All images on my blog are either my own or were gleaned from pictures in the public domains of popular social networks like facebook or pinterest. If you own the copyright to any of these images & do NOT want them used publicly, please contact me & I will take them down immediately! : )