Thumbprint On My Soul

Acts 2: 26 “Therefore did my heart rejoice, and my tongue was glad; moreover also my flesh shall rest in hope:”

Yesterday my day was going along normally with me pitter-pattering around. I left to go to the store and in this small town that takes an hour or so. The drive was nice, the scenery was beautiful as the sun blemished the brown fields, and gas is a pretty low penny so the fill-up meant my day was going nicely as I silently rejoiced in all of God’s blessings. 

I returned home to see a package on my steps. Another praise Jesus moment because the postman usually takes it back to the Post Office and leaves me a note to pick up the parcel. Not this day and I was so glad because I had been waiting for this package for four whole days!

If you remember back in December when I received a box, there was some damage in the way that the Old Bay had exploded all over everything and left all of the contents smelling, how shall I say – seasonal? After all, it was Christmas and the rush to get packages delivered probably became a hurried chore and boxes got damaged.

Not this box though, no way, this was the box with my necklace that my mother purchased for me (and one for my sister) when my father passed away. It is a beautiful shiny pendant that not only has my fathers’ actual thumbprint on the front, it has my dads date of birth and death on the back along with his name. Talk about holding a part of my father in my hand. My eyes overflowed with tears as I held it to my heart and wept. 

Earlier in the day when my mother left me a message that she took her medicine, (this is my way of making sure she takes her medicine every day, because I NEED her alive) she said my father woke her up. I chuckled. So here my dad woke her up, made sure my package was on my steps, and when I called mother last evening our nightly ritual began. 

We started talking about my dad waking her up. She said, “Joni, I was sound asleep and I hear a tap tap tap on the bedroom door and I jumped up.” She went on to tell me how my dad always came to check on her by eleven in the morning to make sure she was alive? And he’d do so by tapping on the bedroom door. 

This isn’t the first instance that my dad has made himself known to her. There are just too many times to mention and no, my mother is not insane, she is in love and misses her best lifelong friend and he lets her know he is ever present in their home. I don’t judge because I’ve had my own experiences with my dad in some form communicating to me. 

For instance, I was in my laundry room talking to my mother. We were talking about the necklace and the box and all that was in the box and at that moment, all the lights on my washing machine lit up as if it was going into cycle. No, it was off, but all of the lights blinked on and chills ran up my arm and I just smiled because to me, my father was letting me know that he was there. 

I have a friend who just lost her father and I bet she has the same instances where her dad is letting her know and the rest of her family know, that he is a okay! I have a lot of friends actually who know what to look for in seeing their loved ones who have passed. I also know a lot of folks never see anything and I think it is because they’re just not believers in anything spiritual or supernatural, you know, things you can’t explain? Well, to non-believers nothing ever happens. To believers, we see everything!

My father left a thumbprint on my soul and now I carry his very thumbprint next to my heart. And coincidentally, there’s a hurricane out in the Atlantic. The first time in January since… the year my dad was born. They even named it after him, Alex! *wink wink*

God rest your soul, Dad!

Mark 8:18 “Having eyes, see ye not? and having ears, hear ye not? and do ye not remember?”