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The Universe's Timing Is Always Right



In the winter of 1989, I boarded a British Airways flight bound for London's Heathrow Airport. An hour out of Miami, one of the engines exploded and the plane filled with thick black smoke. Oxygen masks fell from the ceiling and the plane was in a nosedive. It was the scariest moment in my life (until my husband’s heart attack last summer). Thankfully the nosedive was intentional and not a loss of power but, sitting in the back of the plane there was no way to know that. Once the plane was low enough, they were able to recirculate the air to get the smoke out.Thank God for the amateur pilot in the row in front of me who kept shouting updates, trying to keep people from freaking out. It didn’t work but I was grateful he tried.


By now unfortunately, we were too far out to make it back to Miami and the plane was directed to land in the Bahamas. In the 1980s, Grand Bahama was not yet the popular cruise ship destination it is now, and the runway was not capable of accommodating a 747 (it likely still isn't.) We hit the start of the runway so hard the nose wheel buckled, and the plane skidded along before swerving into the grass at the other end, the ocean so close outside the window, I could see the waves hitting the shore.

It would take nearly 48 hours to repair the runway and for new crews and presumably smaller planes to arrive and take us on to London. All the luggage was in crates in the belly of the plane, still sitting in the grass so, even if I did get to London, my stuff would not.


I wasn't going to be in England that long and we had barely left Miami, so the airline gave us the option to go on or go back. Getting back on a plane, in either direction, scared the hell out of me but at this point, flying across an ocean scared me even more. The Bahamas wasn’t interested in letting into the country, so the whole time we’d been sitting on the broken plane or on the floor outside the customs area with no food and barely anything to drink. It was my 21st birthday and almost New Years Eve and I just wanted to go home. I boarded a terrifyingly small plane with a dozen or so other quitters, and we flew the short hop back to Miami. I had been gone almost four days and had nothing to show for it. On hearing what happened, friends arrived to share a mellow celebration of my birthday, homecoming, and the New Year.


I never flew internationally again, until last month when my husband came with me to England. Partly vacation and partly to ensure I didn’t bail, it’s probably more accurate to say he “brought me” to England so I could attend class at The Arthur Findley College in Stansted. It took 35 years (and several strong drinks) but I got on the plane and crossed the ocean. We had a wonderful time, and my mantra unintentionally became, “I can’t believe I’m here!” It was an amazing experience and I’m so grateful I was finally able to go.

Finally able to go… and that voice inside says, “Why did I wait so long? What did I let fear stop me?” It opens a far to easy door to shame and self-condemnation. Except, the truth is we come to things in our own time, in our right time. I probably could have gotten to England sometime in the previous three decades but, I wasn’t ready. There hadn’t been a reason for me to be ready and looking back, I can see where I was growing and learning in other areas. Areas that needed time to grow so I’d be ready to receive the blessings and lessons of this trip now. It’s easy to beat ourselves up over the “woulda. coulda, shoulda’s” of life but it serves no purpose. There is nothing positive to come from that and looking back with regret doesn’t change anything.


Truthfully, this was the perfect time for me to return to England. Now I was able to appreciate and enjoy all that was in front of me. In the past I have written about how Spirit has guided me throughout my life, to people and places to help me connect with my abilities and my purpose. I would ignore them or turn away because I was not ready to see or hear. Now it was different. The years have allowed me to know more fully who I am, the abilities I have and why I am here. I was ready for more. I suppose I was ready-ish in 2020 as a group of us were scheduled to attend Arthur Findley that summer but, you know, Covid. Now I was as ready as I was ever going to be.


My dear friend (and super talented Spirit Artist, Laura G) called and said, “hey, I’m going to this class, and you should come too.” I hesitated, but only briefly before saying yes. And when I mentioned it to my husband he said, “Great, I’ll come with you to make sure you get there safely and feel ok.” We had an amazing time. Stonehenge, Windsor Castle, the home of King Henry VIII and so much more. After my course at AFC, I had a day by myself in London which affirmed again, I was in the right place at the right time, for me. I feel proud of myself for taking this leap of faith and most of all, I feel grateful. There are no wrong turns, just bends in the path for us to learn more fully what we’ve come here to experience. Spirit doesn’t give up on us. It may take a while for us to be willing to listen, but Spirit was still there to guide me once I was ready. It took 35 years to get back on this part of my path, but it was the perfect time for me.



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