Fellow Travelers

Piazza Ducale, Venice, October 2018.

Everyone in the workshop paired off to silently look each other eye-to-eye. I hate the exercise. The only person more uncomfortable than me was the man standing next to me. He struggled and frequently looking away. To make him more comfortable, I looked away. 

In flash, I saw myself earlier that very day, crafting my personal mission statement: I Exist to Help Souls Heal. I knew the exercise wasn’t about making either of us comfortable. I decided to love him enough to help him.

I looked into his heart. His lip quivered. Tears streamed down his face. I didn’t see his wounds, but I felt them. Though we never spoke, I knew how powerful the experience had been for him and how much he’d needed it. We embraced and he thanked me.

After a little sleuthing, I found Kristin Mismash on Facebook. She invited me to visit her husband in the hospital. I arrived on Christmas Eve as he recovered from surgery. He spoke to me like an old friend.

Tombstone, Arizona, 2012. This fits Andrew’s personality.

Andrew had recently commenced a new leg of his spiritual journey. Before I could ask, he said, “When I looked into your eyes that night, I knew you were a fellow traveler, and if I shared my story, you’d understand.”

I wept as he spoke. The room filled with love and recollection. We’d found each other. A few weeks later, Andrew died. Those were our only two encounters in this life, but we’d known each other for eternity. I miss him. He came to me last night and asked me to share this.

Ofttimes we entertain angels. Sometimes we’re fortunate enough to realize it.