The Locket… and a Sprinkle of Belief
My father gave my mother a delicate gold locket long before I was dreamt into being.
Their wedding date was etched on the side that lay against Mom’s chest.
When I was 16, she gave it to me — five years after Dad had died of a heart attack.
Maybe she gifted it to me because she felt I needed the strength that it gave her before and following his death.
Or, did she feel a sense of guilt when it was replaced by the oval version given to her by my stepdad?
Maybe a bit of both.
I wore it happily, feeling closer to Dad and the life he once shared with us all.
A few days later, I had a softball tournament and was told by an umpire I needed to remove it. I complied and put it with my belongings on the bench.
The day was blazingly hot, as the Southern California sun played witness to several softball games in a single day spread across three different large fields.
I moved from field to field and shifted my belongings (including the locket) as needed.
The tournament ended in the evening, and I headed to the locker room. By then the sun had set — the sky was crimson red.
The Santa Ana winds brushed my skin and tickled my lungs. Life felt so delicious.
In the locker room, I pulled the necklace out of my sweatshirt pocket and realized something was missing… the locket.
Somehow, the clasp had come undone and it slid off to who knows where.
The room began to spin around me as I began to panic.
How could I lose it?
All of those years Mom had kept it safe — I had it only for a couple of days and then lost it in a sea of grass.
I was certain I’d never see it again.
In my haze of fear and frustration, I heard a soft voice whisper in my ear.
“Jen, just stop. Ask for help.”
So, I did.
“Please, help me find my locket. I can’t lose it. My dad gave it to my mom, and it means everything to me.”
I heard the whisper again.
“Walk outside barefoot. Take off your socks. Just walk, Jenny.”
I went out of the locker room barefoot. About 60 yards or so out, I heard it once more…
“Stop… now… look under your left foot.”
I did, assuming my imagination was playing a massive trick on me.
Then, it happened… under my left foot… the locket was there.
To remind myself of the sheer size of the area, I grabbed a satellite photo of the fields of play — see above. It was a massive area, and the locket was tiny.
Was I directed to it by a loving force? Was it my dad guiding me? God? Or, maybe sheer luck?
I think about my 16-year-old self. Belief in something greater than humanity came so naturally then. The magic of the universe coursed through my veins more often than not.
To me, it was more than a religion or creed. It was a force that was all love, all support, all hope.
In the now, I have to admit that sometimes (gulp… often) I question. I doubt.
Or, do I really?
I want to hear that whisper again. To experience similar guidance.
I recently saw the documentary Stutz. It’s about a psychotherapist who ditched traditional therapy. He teaches that here and now we can all move beyond our limitations.
All it takes is tapping into the Life Force (I was raised to call it God, but have a hard time identifying with groups of people who do and say naive and hurtful things in its name. So, I pretty much avoid calling it anything).
In Dr. Stutz’s words:
“The Life Force itself may be invisible, but evidence of its power is everywhere. It created life on earth and, over untold eons, drove evolution from single-cell organisms to the unimaginable complexity of the human brain. Every seed that sprouts into a full-grown plant, every salmon that fights its way against the current to spawn, every sun-seeking weed growing through cracks in the sidewalk, is an expression of life’s unstoppable energy. It’s natural to think of the Life Force as sustaining growth in nature — the grass growing, fish swimming, birds flying, etc. But the Life Force is capable of something more: it can fuel the inner growth of each of us. When you learn how to use its energy, it becomes the antidote to the personal problems that fill us with a sense of powerlessness.”
Back to the warm spring night that I dropped the locket… my 16-year-old self was wowed. I held it to my heart and then to my lips to kiss it.
That night before going to bed, I handed it to my Mom and asked her to keep it until I was older and more settled.
She understood. A few years later, she and my stepdad divorced and she wore it once again. It felt so right to see her wearing it near her heart.
The day it became mine again was January 17, 2015 — the day Mom took her last breath.
I took it from the drawer next to her bed and swore that I would never part with it again.
Until…
I walked into my sister’s room (she lived with Mom up until the end).
The whisper appeared again… telling me that I needed to pass the locket on. That my sister was suffering in the deep silence of my mom being gone.
So, I handed it to her.
She took it and said thank you.
Then, I walked into the guest room to sleep and sobbed.
The whisper… the life force… God… I realize is inside of me. Maybe waiting for more profound moments to be shared.
The question is — am I humble enough to tap into it?
Sometimes I’m not so sure.
Jenny, take off your shoes and socks and take a stroll in the grass again. I’ll lead the way… just surrender.
