Inner Knowing

Do you trust your inner knowing? Enough to act upon it?

It was a gorgeous summer evening when my dad threw a perfect first pitch at his local baseball stadium for his 60th birthday. Like something out of an old-time movie.

You might be imagining that my dad was the only person throwing the first pitch at that game, as if he were the President. That's certainly how I imagined it. We would both be wrong in that case!

My dad stood in a long line of "first pitchers" who ranged in age from 5 to 75. In many ways, this made it much better. The pressure was off, and all over the stadium the crowd cheered and championed each person as if they were their own loved one.

I’ll never forget my dad’s smile of sheer jubilation when he came off the field. We could all see the boy within him. From the mound, he had thrown with enough speed and accuracy straight into the catcher's mitt. He had done it!

I’ll never forget him sitting with his mother and siblings, reminiscing about past baseball games as they watched the players that evening.

I'll never forget him laughing at jokes from his co-workers and sharing a drink with his neighbors.

I'll never forget him kissing my mom.

What I'll remember most from that evening, however, was a moment of inner knowing.

Instead of the traditional birthday cake with candles, my father presented a toast to all of us. It was much more his style. He was known for his toasts, along with his quirky Christmas newsletters, having presented toasts at most of his family's seminal events. It was a bit odd, as he was the second child (don't these things normally go to the first in line?) and he was more often the quiet listener in conversations rather than the storyteller. Yet, my dad is our resident toastmaster.

With champagne glass in hand, he began by admitting a profound truth: "Wow, 60! I never thought I would live this long."

Having been diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes in the 1960's, his doctors had shared the hard news that he would be lucky to live to 40 years. He had beaten the odds, he laughed, and he was grateful for the extra time - two decades! - with all of us.

Throughout my dad's toast, I had this odd sensation as if I were watching the scene from a balcony. I wasn't an actor in the play. I was removed. An observer. Noticing small things. The furrow on my father's brow. The way he stumbled over words even with his speech in hand. How he looked directly into people's eyes, holding their gaze for a beat longer than normal. The glimmer of tears that rimmed his brown eyes. Time slowed.

At that moment, I heard a voice behind me whisper into my ear: “There’s not much time left.” I turned around to see who was talking to me. No one was there. I turned back around as an inner knowing overcame my body: "You've got ten years with him. Use it well."

At that time, I was not the type of person who paid attention to such inner knowing. I shrugged moments like this one away, discounted them and promptly forgot that the moment had even happened. After all, I was a rational being.

Not this time.

A few days later I called my brother who lived across the country and could not attend our dad's party. As a twenty-something in law school so very far away, he was immersed in his own life. Mom and Dad had always been there. We had grandparents who had lived well into their 80s and 90s. There was no reason that my brother should be concerned. I wanted to warn him, as I had been warned by this inner knowing. For I could see ten years progressing quickly with opportunities for time together passed over because we imagined that we had more time. So, I warned my brother on that call: "We need to make the most of the next ten years."

Luckily, my brother didn't discount my warning. He listened with such kindness, and together, we made promises.

Here was my first lesson.

Choosing love invites us to trust our inner knowing. To share it with a confidant. To act upon it. Even when it isn’t rational. Even when you don't know what it means. When have you had a moment of inner knowing? What did you do with it?

I invite you to stop discounting your inner knowing. Breathe. Trust it as the voice of Love.

The night had definitely been one to remember.