It’s 4:12. Do you know where your book is?

I haven’t been writing about the household angels lately, so I’ll give you one and you can decide.

Kiddo2 had her violin lesson in the next town over at 4:30. I like to leave 20 minutes for the drive, but as you can imagine, with trying to load everyone into the car, it can get hairy. This time, as I was buckling Kiddo4 into his car seat, I glanced at the clock and it said 4:12. Late.

As I shut the door, I had a thought: the batteries were going to run out in my Kobo. I should go upstairs and grab a print book.

I hesitated. But I’d charged the thing recently, and we were running late, so I figured it would be okay.

The thought nagged at me. I thought, no, that’s ridiculous. The thing has enough battery life for half an hour, and most of the time the boys won’t even let me read while we’re waiting because they want to play with me.

I got in the car, and as I backed out of the garage, I felt a really strong thought: run upstairs and get my knitting.

I hesitated again, but then decided no. We were late. I was already in the car. It was just catering to my neurotic tendencies to run upstairs and grab something in case the battery died. I thought, Well the worst that could happen is I’ll just have to suck it up and interact with my kids like a normal mother.

We took off. We got there with a few minutes to spare, and we settled in at the waiting area.

And ten minutes later, I went in search of the violin instructor, who was nowhere to be found. I located the music school owner, who said, “Oh, I just got a text from her. She’s stuck in horrible traffic. Didn’t she call you?”

I piled everyone back into the car, and we went home. I checked messages, and there’s a call from the violin instructor.

When? At 4:12.

Granted, I don’t know how the car clock synchs to the phone clock. But maybe sometimes “Your battery might die — go get a book” translates to “You need to be upstairs so you get this phone call.”

(PS: The battery lasted through the rest of that book.)

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About philangelus

Mom, freelance writer, novelist, angelphile, Catholic, know-it-all.
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3 Responses to It’s 4:12. Do you know where your book is?

  1. Normandie says:

    Don’t you want to kick yourself when you get those nudges and don’t listen?

    • philangelus says:

      Yeah. Like the time I felt a very strong push to get on the highway at Exit 8 rather than Exit 7, and I thought, “But it’s such a pain to do that, and it’s out of the way…” Yep, stuck in traffic fifteen minutes.

  2. Lorraine E. Castro says:

    Your post was so interesting! My youngest daughter and I have been noticing these moments of synchronicity more and more often. Vanessa has taken to describe them as “Matrix moments”. She notices how often someone will say a word or phrase to her and she will simultaneously be reading that exact same thing on the television or in the book she’s holding.

    Last semester, she was walking out of school with friends, thinking about what she wanted to eat and picturing the sandwich she was going to make for herself. Her friend left her at the corner saying “Enjoy your sandwich”, even though Vanessa hadn’t mentioned a thing about it. She often experiences several of these moments a day.

    My Matrix moments are more like yours. I get an impulse or message to do something and I obey. In every case, listening has enabled me to help someone. Once I was sitting in a meeting as the CEO of an agency and I got the feeling I had to get back to the administrative office immediately. I jumped up from the meeting, saying I just remembered a conflicting committment and drove off.

    My office was high on a hill. As I was turning the corner left toward work, a woman fainted in the street in front of me. I pulled over and helped her into my car. It was a sweltering day and she was beet faced and soaked with perspiration. She told me her husband had kicked her out of their car at the bottom of the hill and she’d walked the two miles up. Worst of all, she forgot where she lived.

    Being a therapist, I immediately started counseling her on her options and drove around until she finally recognised where she was and I could deliver her safely home. I would wish the same for myself and everyone else. We all need help sometimes.

    My guides and angels have always sent these kinds of messages. Whether they’re for me or anyone else, I listen. Their source has the highest priority with me. In fact, I say ignore them at your own expense (as you found out).

    I’ve had so many of these instances I could write a book. There’s a concept!

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