“Be Strong,” he whispered.

Image

‘Be strong,” he whispered to his wifi signal.

He heard the ding from his computer about twenty minutes ago but he was afraid to check the email. The weather had been violent all day and he needed the connection to be strong just long enough for him to read and reply to the email that could just possible change his life.

For better or worse.

It was safe to say that in life, love and the Internet, he needed a connection.

Earlier, he had been in the kitchen cleaning. Thinking. Hoping. Praying.

The man in the black t-shirt was having a bad week. He felt out of sorts. He felt like “normal” was a foreign country and he didn’t speak the language. He wasn’t happy with himself and had nobody but to blame.

But himself.

It’s a terrible thing to absorb when you know you’ve let someone down. Someone who means so much. Consider the difference between saying “You mean the world to me” and “You are a world to me.”

Well, there was a person who was like an entire world–a brand new solar system–to him. He knew he had let down this person and wished he nothing more than to go back in time and choose differently.

In the kitchen, his mind spit thoughts faster than he could take. There were things in his mind that he had never told anyone before. He wanted to but felt they would laugh at him or discount him or think he had Fruity Pebbles for brains.

Have you ever made a promise in your mind? A “if _______ happens, I promise I will ________”

He brewed a cup of Pumpkin coffee.

“Be strong,” he whispered to the cup.

The man with soap-sud hands felt as though he had always been tapped into something–a type of karma/power/prayer/magic/synchronicity–he didn’t know what to call it.

So many times he had dreamt of something random and it came true. Or he dreamt of an old friend and the next day heard from them out-of-the-blue.

He’d randomly think of a scene in a movie or TV show and, scrolling through the channel guide the next day, see the show listed. It happened so often that he stopped mentioning it to the few people he trusted with such a strange secret.

One time in college, he dreamt he was visiting an acquaintance and someone told him the guy had died. Months later, he found out the person really had died.

Coincidence? Perhaps. Yet, it had to be more. He felt only people who were tuned into this type of energy could fuel it or keep it going or even recognize it.

If you open yourself up to a universal force, a universal force opens itself for you.

So as he scrubbed the stove top, he thought himself: “Please let me hear from him. If I am tapped into anything in the Universe, please let him call or text me. If it happens, I’ll know to respect it and if not, I’ll know I’m making it up in my head.”

He kept cleaning. He changed a painting from one wall to another. It looked so much better. Everything has a proper place.

Fifteen minutes later, the person texted him.

His eyebrows raised in disbelief. He couldn’t believe it.

“Holy (choose your own swear word)!” he thought. “That can’t be a coincidence. No way.”

He read the text and it made him feel so alive. It was like the words were water and his soul was dehydrated. It was strangely poetic, too.

Sitting to write a reply, he saw a Facebook post on his computer. It was religious and really long but the title caught his eye, “Have You Ever Had One of Those Days?”

The man with the hydrated soul started reading. The subject was about making a change for the better. Figuring out why you do the things you do (even though you know you need to stop).

“You are heading into a new season, and those old habits and comfortable ways of doing things can’t go with you. It’s time for you to walk away from those things.”

This message resonated so strongly with him that it brought tears to his eyes.

There it was. In writing.

He already knew it. But he had to read it from a third-party to truly understand it. The paragraph went on and on, but the man who needed to make a big change only heard one thing.

“Be strong.”

Silence. He let the words sink in.

He was started by the TV, which had been on pause for too long in the buffer, and if the entire coincidence issue was ever in doubt, it was answered again by the words spoken as the TV cracked back to life.

“It’s time for second chances while there’s still time.”

Literally, that’s what came from the TV.

It was one of those lame, daytime judge shows. Classy.

But still, can you imagine sitting in silence, having just had a big revelation about your life, and out of nowhere, you hear a line about second chances?

It was the first time in months he felt alive and on the “good side” of things. He felt new hope. Fired up. Pumped.

Before he did anything else, he knew he had to sit down and write it all down. Do you ever have things happen but, when you try to remember them later, can’t remember exactly all of the details?

He felt like he owed it to the Universe, or whatever the karma/power/prayer/magic/synchronicity was, to sit down and write the story.

The man with the new outlook on life did finally read that email by the way.

He had interviewed for a job recently that he really wanted. The email was from the company. If he got the job, it would make such a difference in his life. He would feel like he had something to offer the world, like he was making a difference. He wanted his friends and family to be proud of him.

The email simply stated they were still making a decision and they’d get back to him. It wasn’t good or bad news. Just news.

The man with a new song in his old heart began writing about his first impression of second chances.

It began:

“‘Be strong,’ ” he whispered to his wifi signal.”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s