FEBRUARY- "Imagine all the people we brush paths with and never know a thing about them."

It was the worst day of my life. One morning while out of town for the weekend, I got a phone call with the news that my 19-year old son had died in a fire while away at college. Still in shock a few hours later, my husband and I boarded a plane to go back home.

I walked shakily down the aisle looking for seats near the front, as I thought my queasy stomach couldn't take riding in the back. The only open seats were with a woman who sat huddled under a blanket by the window. Briefly thinking, "I hope she isn't sick, that's the last thing we need" I sat down beside her, with my husband on the aisle.

The flight seemed to last forever. Finally, the plane started its descent and through my haze of fear, shock and anxiety (sadness would come later) I must have said something to my husband about courage, and needing to be strong or something to that effect. In a moment the woman said to me, "Excuse me, I'm so sorry to ask, but have you just lost someone?" I said, "Yes, my son." Her eyes widened, and she said, "My son died last night too, and I'm just now going home." We fell into each others arms. Our sons were only a year apart in age, and had died within hours of each other. We kept in touch for a long time, and both of us felt our sons had directed us to meet on that awful day.

We easily could have gotten off of that plane never knowing what the other was going through. There were many more instances after my son's death where I felt some kind of divine support and comfort, and this was just the beginning. Imagine all the people we brush paths with and never know a thing about them.


Anonymous
Austin, Texas

JANUARY- "I had just witnessed real love..."

We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat my son Erik in a high chair. Suddenly, he squealed with glee and said, 'Hi!' He pounded his fat baby hands on the high chair tray, laughing and giggling endlessly. I looked around and saw a man whose pants were baggy with his toes poking out of his shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed. We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled.

'Hi there, baby; hi there, I see ya!' the man said to Erik. My husband and I exchanged looks. The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby. He was obviously drunk. My husband and I were embarrassed. We ate in silence; all except for Erik, who was laughing loudly across the room, exchanging smiles with the skid-row bum.

Finally my husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot. The old man sat poised between me and the door. 'Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik,' I prayed. As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he might be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby's 'pick-me-up' position. Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man.

Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their love and kinship. Erik in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid his tiny head upon the man's ragged shoulder. The man's eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain, and hard labor, cradled my baby's bottom and stroked his back. No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time. I stood awestruck. The old man cradled Erik in his arms as he said in a firm commanding voice, 'You take care of this baby.' Somehow I managed, 'I will,' from a throat that contained a stone. He pried Erik from his chest, lovingly and longingly, as though he were in pain. I received my baby, and the man said, 'God bless you, ma'am, you've given me a gift.' I said nothing more than a muttered thanks.

With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, 'My God, my God, forgive me.' I had just witnessed real love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who forgot how to. I was blind, holding a child who was not.

Anonymous,
Dublin, Ireland

Artist,

Kenneth McNeil- Copenhagen, Denmark

Kenneth's Flickr

DECEMBER- "I was still stopped dead in my tracks with goosebumps all over my skin"

I was walking aimlessly along a riverfront one day, talking in my head to Matt- one of my dearest friends, an incredibly wise person and important influence on my life who had passed away. I asked Matt, somewhat jokingly, if he now knew all the secrets of the universe. Then, more seriously, I asked him how we as people came to be from what seems to be a very mechanical universe full of little unthinking particles. What are we supposed to be doing here anyway?

A light breeze began to move through the trees. I turned and felt compelled to look at one of the dozens of park benches that was sitting facing the river. I walked around to the front of it. On the bench was a plaque that read, "Love is the answer."

My heart feels that this may have been him telling me the answer to my question--the most simple, yet most profound answer available--love. Whether or not it was him, and whether or not I need to look at this as one of those perfect moments in the universe.... I was still stopped dead in my tracks with goosebumps all over my skin, nothing but the wind moving around me. 

Anonymous

Poznan Poland

Artist: Peter Gagilas   Kent, United Kingdom  Peter's Website

NOVEMBER- "The feeling of the presence only got stronger until I turned around..."

I was working in the woods one day with my aunts boyfriend who I was staying with in Italy. We had to cut down a portion of an oak tree so that we could replant it. We were also doing some other work that day in the forest and the garden. I went into the back of the property and into the forest to start helping him cut the tree and he said, "Don't worry I'll take care of this tree and finish cutting the rest of the wood off of it. You just go up a little further to collect dirt and soil for the vegetable garden."


So I walked about 50 yards deeper into the forest, not too far away from my friend. As always, there is a significant presence in these parts of the woods, a certain vibration. The feeling was very prevalent that day. I started walking on until I felt that I found a good place to dig. As soon as I began digging, out of nowhere hundreds and hundreds of leaves around me began to fall to the ground. I could barely see what I was doing, they were everywhere. All of a sudden I felt this overwhelming feeling that there was something watching me. I stood up and turned around and all I saw were trees. So I continued digging. The feeling of the presence only got stronger until I turned around to notice that I was standing directly in front of a massive, ancient oak tree. 


I got this eerie feeling that the tree itself was demanding to know the reason for my presence in the forest . I felt like it was staring directly into me, questioning my intentions. I can't begin to describe that feeling or explain how I could have understood something that a tree was trying to communicate to me, but I did. So the only thing I could do was respond. Meanwhile, the leaves were still falling as far as I could see. I directed my thoughts to the tree communicating that I was collecting soil for the garden and that we were only trying to save the other oak tree down by the property, not harm it. After I completed that thought, the leaves stopped falling abruptly, completely all at once, just as if it had never happened and everything around me fell silent again. When the leaves stopped falling I felt astonished and also a strange sense of relief that the so-called interrogation was over. 


I walked down to the property and asked my friend if he had noticed any leaves falling and he replied that he hadn't. He looked at me a bit strangely, because I probably appeared a bit shaken. His response meant that the leaves had only fallen right around me and that my environment in those moments had made a direct, interactive connection with me. I felt as if that tree had peered right into my soul, and I will never forget that.

Thomas Januzzi, Italy

Aritst- Karen Prosen Karen's flickr

OCTOBER- "I saw it and heard it with total disbelief"

I'd been visiting mother's home in Queensland, another state. I had travelled by plane with my 7 month old and 4 year old. 

The trip from the airport had been a little harrowing. My wonderful neighbor offered to pick us up in my car... or maybe it was his wife's idea :)   He probably regretted it as the baby howled for most the trip.

So when I got home I tried to unlock the front door. In a fit of security-consciousness, I had apparently deadlocked it but I had forgotten to take the deadlock key with me. We were locked out.

Forgetting keys had become an all-too-common occurrence for me at this time. Another fantastic neighbor had brought his ladder across a couple of times already and climbed through my bathroom window. I had also already paid a locksmith to let me in on another occasion. To be honest, it was getting embarrassing. It hadn't occurred to me to leave a spare key with a neighbour, maybe it was all the stress, toddler ear infections and night feeds but my brain wasn't in the best space at that time.

I was determined that I wasn't going to ask for help. By now, however, both children were crying. They were hungry and I had to change the baby's diaper on the side deck. I had also found my time with my mum very stressful, so I wasn't in a great mood. 

There are two glass sliding doors on the side of the house we lived in then. To let air in, I had locked them slightly open. Not enough to fit through, of course. I hoped against hope that I hadn't locked at least one of them. They were, however, both firmly bolted and key locked into the top of the frame. Irrationally I tried to force one open by pulling. I pulled and pulled and I prayed and prayed but it wouldn't budge. Then it all became too much and I stepped back and started to cry.

I stood there looking at the door and crying and then, to my utter amazement, the bolt slid down. 

I saw it and heard it with total disbelief. It just happened by itself as if an invisible hand had inserted a key and unlocked it for us. It's embarrassing to admit it now but when I slid that door open I was so overcome with gratitude that I fell to my knees and prayed.

Anonymous, Australia

Artist- Luke Wyman  Margate, United Kingdom     Luke's Flickr

September- "If for nothing else than to ask her when the picture of me in her bed, sound asleep was taken..."

Julia! I met Julia in a random way, but that's not my story. It was long after we had our time together and she became my "one who got away". Last year she had moved to Chicago and we hadn't spoken in sometime. Before she left she had a showing of her photos at a small rented out space. I walked through the makeshift gallery and before I read the placard I knew exactly which photos were hers. I felt as if there was still that connection strong enough for me to feel her eye and her aesthetic. I saw her at the other end of the space with her new boyfriend and before I could say hello I decided to bypass an awkward moment and make my exit. That night I had a dream about her. She owned a photo studio and was a well known photographer. There was a fire that spread throughout her photo studio, and in this dream I was the firefighter who put the flames out. Soon after the showing she made her move to Chicago and we lost touch. Out of the blue one day she sent me a random cordial text message asking how I was doing. In response I told her about my dream. She told me it had always been her dream to have a photo studio. I said "Well, if my dreams come true it will burn to the ground. Bittersweet." To this day she has no idea that I was at that showing and ever since, I regret not living through an awkward moment with her and her new boyfriend. If for nothing else than to ask her when the picture of me in her bed, sound asleep was taken that she included in her show.


Keith McCarthy, Chicago, Illinois


Artist- Colie Parks  Orlando, Florida
Colie's Flickr

AUGUST- "Exactly where I had been standing minutes earlier, laid a majority of the maple tree."

It was a typical beautiful summer day in August of my eighth summer, and I had only one thing on my mind: kickball. Like any other red blooded American kid, summer vacation to me meant three months of pure bliss and competitive backyard games. This day was no exception. It was the typical slew of characters: my older brother, my best friend, and a few kids from the neighborhood. Since the days of summer vacation were quickly dwindling and our lush green grass would soon be covered with snow before we knew it, the intensity to win was rising with every game.


I'll set the scene: it was a girls versus boys game where the winners get bragging rights and the losers walk away shamed. As a team comprised of little sisters, we had a lot to prove. The girls team was up, it was the last inning and bases were loaded. And with backyard kickball, I use the term "bases" very loosely. First base was the sprinkler, second base was the hydrangea bush and third was a maple tree. That's where I was, third base. My feet were planted between the sinewy roots with my eyes affixed at home plate (aka the gate to the front yard). The whole game was riding on a good kick and me making it home. Suddenly, ad mist my anticipation for the pitch, I felt the urgent need to call my mother. Regardless of the groans surrounding me I hurriedly ran inside and dialed her number. She had just answered and I let out a reassured sigh of relief when suddenly I heard a scream from outside. I hung up and ran to the door to see what all the commotion was about. Exactly where I had been standing minutes earlier, laid a majority of the once majestic maple tree. Apparently the tree had been ridden with termites and collapsed without a warning. Had I not had the urge to call my mother, I would have been a kickball casualty. I had never felt an urge so strong prior, or since that moment to do something. Still fourteen years later, it is inexplicable, but I am thankful to whomever, or whatever, saved me that day.


Alayna Mallon, Long Island, New York


Artist: Emily Simpson, Howell, Michigan
Emily's flickr