One Day Abounding

One Day Abounding


         It was the end of a long hot day and I had gotten off work a little early, so I decided to get my car washed.  I pulled into a gas station up near the highway and paid my three bucks.  I had been there before and was always pleased with the wash I got.  My car always came out looking good.  But on this day, things would turn out differently.  I would never get the car wash to work, but when I left the gas station, it would be the last thing on my mind.
         Two attempts failed.  The attendant even reset the machine for me, but still, it would not work, and as I sat in my car staring at the machine which was staring back at me, I decided I would not get angry.  Instead, I smiled.  There are no mistakes, I told myself.  In this field of infinite intelligence of which we are all part, I believe that nothing happens randomly, no matter how often we tell ourselves that it does.  It was a good day and I decided to look for the reason.  I asked to know and to feel, and immediately my energy shifted into a space of calm and peace.  My smile broadened and after a few minutes more I drove through the bay again. 
         As I pulled through this time, an old Cadillac jumped out at me.  It was nearly blocking the car wash exit, parked oddly across three parking spaces.  The fender was bent and the paint was worn and it looked like an old sway back mule panting in the shade just before dropping dead.  I didn’t think much of it.  We were at the end of another scorcher and I didn’t expect parking etiquette to be high on anyone’s list of priorities.  In my state of bliss, I just drove around the thing and parked. 
         I walked into the shop again and that’s when it all began.  A woman, out of breath, on crutches, sweating profusely, turned to me as I approached the counter and asked me, gasping, if I could help her put some water in her overheating car.  She had driven up the highway in the hundred-plus heat to this point and could go no further.  When she had begun her spiel, I had immediately turned on the filters.  I had heard dozens of stories about dire straits that all ended with a plea for money based on some false pretense, and was prepared to give her a buck or two just for her efforts, but this was not the case.  By the time I got my three dollars back from the attendant, the woman was sinking fast into the depths of an asthma attack and was beginning to panic.  Barely able to stand, overheated, overweight, her eyes rolling a bit, she continued to seek my assistance, which I had already agreed to.  Her friend came in and told her she needed to go to the hospital, and indeed, if it had progressed any further, I am sure a paramedic would have been called, because she would have been on the floor.  It was at this point that I felt the energy around us build up.  It was as if we were standing within a field of intense vibration and my first thought was to inject some calm into the scene with thought.  I had experienced how effective this can be, but this time it was too late.  She was beyond that. 
         I was in a moment of decision, one I had faced before, and knew that my words would affect everything that would happen next.  I found myself mute, waiting for the right action, and then without analytical thought or thought at all, words began to come out of my mouth, “I may be able to help you.  Do you mind if I put my hands on you?”  She turned with tears running down her face, “Do anything you want,” she said desperately. 
         I shoved the three dollars into my pocket and placed my hands on her shoulders.  After a moment I slid my left hand down behind her heart.  The energy was so intense that I couldn’t do anything egotistically, I mean, no words of invocation or thoughts came to me at all.  I just stood there and waited for the reiki and the light to begin to draw.  Part of me wanted to jump start it, wanted to get in there and touch wires and get things going, but a larger part of me knew to be silent.  And so I was.  In what seemed to be minutes, but was surely a matter of seconds, the energy began to flow.  Meanwhile, the woman pleaded in a weak voice, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus…” over and over.  Thankfully, my ego couldn’t get in the way, because even as the light was flowing, part of me was resistant to this idea.  How long I had walked, angry at the idea of a savior outside myself, angry at the world for telling me so many lies.  And even now, with all the progress I have made, baptized again at thirty-eight, attuned to the Reiki Master level, ordained as a minister, there was still a part of me that wanted to stand up and say that Jesus wasn’t here.  But I believe that he was.  Even then, without seeing, without thinking about it, I knew we were not alone.  There was so much love.  And as she stood and asked for Jesus to help her with weak and short breath, and as the reiki flowed through me and I watched her breathing become slower and deeper, I just let it all go.  There was no room for thought or analysis, only God, only love. 
         It was at this point that someone walked in the store from the laundry mat next door and asked what was going on, to which the cashier replied that she was having an asthma attack, but that it was all good and that “He’s working on it.  He’s got it under control.”  The ease and gentility of her response and the rapid acceptance of this explanation by the customer served to surround me with even more love and I became aware of all of us standing there sharing this healing, sharing this moment, sharing this space and together, simply being one. 
         After about five minutes or so the woman became calm and told me that it hurt on her chest.  “It’s right here,” she said still a bit anxious, poking her chest with her fingers.  I waited for a beat or two and asked her if I could put my hand there, which she agreed to.  The spot on her chest got hot immediately and pulled in the reiki without pause and in a few minutes the asthma attack was a thing of the past and the panic that had begun to suffocate her had turned back into light. 
         As I walked out to move her car over to the hose and fill the radiator reservoir, she asked me what church I went to.  “Inner Quest,” I said.  “In Roswell.”  She paused, then replied,  “I’m new up here.  Can I have the phone number?”  “Sure,” I said, and after dealing with her car, instinctively gave her one of my cards, whose information was printed atop the image of easy ripples moving over the surface of a still pond.  “Oh,” she smiled, “you got my favorite.  I love water.”  I smiled back at her and left her there, in that sacred spot which moments before was just a Citgo food mart on Holly Springs Parkway.