“Rachel,” God whispered. “I have a job for you.“
“Following the poetry of the sky
Knowing that Rachel stands nearby,
Rachel waits as she readies the view
She waits to show her love for you.”
Mike pondered the recurring dream. He knew Beth was his one. Who the heck is Rachel? Why did she keep showing up in his dreams?
Mike was glad he could share anything with his favorite person, even this odd dream. Beth just smiled confidently, knowingly, as she invited her man to share the story of his younger life.
“It had been a really bad week. My father had been drinking every day like he had so many weeks and months before. I knew this would not end well for us, so I went to my bedroom and got down on my knees. I prayed and prayed. I asked God to please, stop this violence.
It was right around my ninth birthday. I was done. My father was relentless with his fists and anything else he could find to hit Mom and me with.”
Mike felt the tears swell as he recalled the pain of those early years.
“The very next day, I was fiddling around out in the backyard when I saw him coming. He was staggering, barely walking. I hoped he would fall to the ground and pass out. He kept coming.
As he neared, I yelled out at him- I control my destiny. You can no longer hurt me.
The next thing I know, my hands are waving in weird ways, pointing at him. He fell like a rock. He lay there with a blissful smile on his face, looking like he had seen God.
I just stood there. I could not believe my eyes. I looked at him. I looked at my hands. They felt like I had stuck one of my fingers in an electrical socket. I didn’t care.”
Mike looked at his hands as he told Beth the story, recalling that very first time. She leaned over their picnic lunch, giving him a big hug. He smiled and continued, as he clasped her hand. Leaning against a big old cedar tree, he felt the love as the fragrance of his favorite tree wafted up his nose. Even the crystal clear water of the lake he had drawn a million times, seemed to reach out and massage him, carrying away the trauma of the past.
“My father was a changed man. He never hit anyone ever again. In fact, he became quite a likable person. It was awkward at first, but we all made it.
I learned to use this trick well. I did not understand what I was doing, but it did not matter as long as my world was peaceful. The bullies at school became my friends. Other kids started to like me. I could now concentrate on my schoolwork. I found out I was pretty smart.”
Then Mike laughed as he pointed at his motorcycle, an all-black vintage Harley-Davidson. “I found my first true love in the traffic department of the City Police. I never did well as a traffic cop, though. People seemed to sense I was sitting there, watching the traffic. The traffic would calm right down every time, so I never got to write many tickets
They sent me to detective school instead. I found the perfect job for this funny little skill.
Speaking of my motorcycle, let’s go for a ride!”
Sitting easily in his favorite place- on the seat of his all-black vintage Harley-Davidson motorcycle, staring at the outside of the local art museum, Mike focused as he drew. He could feel his mind shift, pulling his focus in as the sketch came to life.
“Haven’t missed one yet, so let’s see what these people tried to pull off.”
“Someone has stolen several artifacts from a local museum. They have completely baffled police, as there is no evidence of the crime occurring,” was the way the news reporters had stated it.
Mike knew there were always clues, often so obvious they get missed, so he rested as he drew the building where the crime had taken place. As he drew it, he became bonded with the drawing. Pictures flowed to him. Before long, he had conjured up the information he needed-who had committed the crime and how. The faces of the men involved, the plundered goods, even the vehicle they had escaped in, all found their way onto the paper.
While he waited for the police to join him, Mike sat. He reminisced about how this magic found its way into his life. As for many individuals who have developed specialized skills, trauma was the fuel. He had endured extreme punishment at the hands of his father from the time he was a toddler. His mom had struggled to intervene, only to receive the physical expression of the anger her husband felt inside as well. She felt helpless against this man out of control. They were too afraid of him to seek help from anyone to end this terror.
When he was about nine, Mike decided he had dealt with enough of being abused. He vowed to himself the violence would stop. They would never suffer this agony again. Deep inside, he knew he and his Mom deserved to be treated as valuable human beings, living with love and respect.
Mike sat on his bed, focusing on himself, praying while he tried to imagine what it would feel like to be powerful, powerful enough to get beyond this suffering, to transform his life and to feel content and free.
One day, not long after, Mike watched his father coming at him with a stick in hand. It was easy to tell he was intent on satisfying his incessant desire for power. Mike stood up tall before he could reach him with a determined stare. As his father moved closer, he shrieked at him, “I command my destiny. You can no longer hurt me.”
As his voice reached his father, his arms waved in a strange way in his father’s direction, making some unfamiliar gestures. An enormous rush of energy flash emitted from his hands.
The man melted on the spot. Falling to the ground, paralyzed, sobbing, he died a necessary death that day.
Mike stood there... shocked. He could not believe his eyes.
His father became a new person that day. It was a rebirth. He never touched him or his mom or anyone else, in anger again. In fact, after a few uncomfortable trials, Mike even let his dad hug him without pulling back. It all seemed so weird.
His mom never found out what had happened that day. His father could not explain what caused the change. He just felt happy for the first time in his life. It did not matter to Mike’s mom; she was just glad the pain was in the past. Now there was room for healing.
His dad became an ideal father and husband after this incident. He quit drinking alcohol for the rest of his life and developed into an ideal role model of maleness for his son. They learned to enjoy spending quality time together as father and son. For years they played together, restoring an old pickup truck and occasionally going for long walks.
Mike smiled in gratitude. Life had turned out well.
It jolted Mike back to the present when the police arrived at the museum. With Mike’s evidence in hand, the perps soon found themselves in jail.
“Another day in paradise”. He mused as he shifted his Harley into gear--- off for a celebratory ride. He thrust his fist into the air as another victory settled in.
A few days later, he was sitting on his motorcycle outside of another crime scene. Doing his best to conjure up the story, he was distracted by two mean looking men walking toward him. They were carrying baseball bats, intending to put him out of business.
Mike watched the men approaching. With a wave of his arms, he did his secret gesture as he murmured his special words. The men stopped in their tracks, not knowing what had happened to them. Dropping their clubs, as their legs became weak, they fell to the ground. Their days of crime were over.
Mike continued his work, clearing up the backlog of cold cases, one by one.
The two TV news reporters found out the identity of this mystery person who was busy cleaning up these impossible cases. Blaring on televisions all over the city--- a picture portraying Mike sitting on his motorcycle!
Limelight and popularity were not on his bucket list. Attention from the public was not needed in this kind of work. Being invisible was an important asset. He needed the quiet to relax and connect. He was relieved they knew nothing about his art or his special ability to diffuse situations.
Solving these crimes with people hanging around made the situation unbearable, making the process far too challenging. Some people waited for days at crime scenes just to get a look at him working. They had become a real nuisance.
He plied his trade but began finding the interference just became too much.
As his popularity increased, he started suffering from headaches. Little ones at first only lasting for seconds, but they were getting worse.
As Mike grew up, his skill in using the technique grew as well. He had learned to use it to protect himself in various ways. As he applied it, he became a very confident person who felt safe and thus enjoyed his special life.
Work was not the only use for this unique skill, it had a fun side to it too. Mike loved to doodle when he had nothing pressing in the moment. It was like going off into space. His skill as an artist merged with his skill of thought projecting. His art came to life!
On one of his favorite walks near his home, with pen in hand, the lake would come to life on his paper with the bullrushes blossoming, the ducks resting together, and the water rippling from the gentle breeze. After he had drawn the full beauty of this nature, he would use his mind to alter the scene to show the ducks flying.
The creatures, astounded, found themselves airborne without having lifted a wing. He was giddy with laughter as the birds, red-cheeked with embarrassment, regained control and flew off, never understanding what had taken place.
During his career in law enforcement, he had many opportunities to meld his intuitive skills with his special artistry that helped him to become recognized as a top-rated investigator.
One day, as Mike was walking in the forest, he noticed something odd. A spot on the forest floor appeared to have become a small burial site. Mike’s eyes poured over the situation. He noticed how someone had turned the soil and how they had replaced the leaves in such an orderly manner.
His experience had taught him to leave things be, so he just stared at the spot. Soon he saw pictures forming in his mind.
Mike knew the pictures were clues. There was a box of jewelry buried in the ground, waiting to be retrieved. As the pictures of the thief appeared, he recalled this person from his bygone days on the force. He would recognize that scruffy face anywhere.
Mike called his buddies, and soon enough, that face was behind bars, and the jewelry returned to the rightful owner.
Word in the law enforcement community spread like wildfire about how Mike had solved this crime without one real piece of evidence.
Mike soon recognized his career was over. He needed to move on.
It was time for a long vacation. He wanted to take some time to decide what was next for him.
His long-time girlfriend, Beth, encouraged him to just relax, maybe go for long walks while he reflected about his prospects. He could sense something exciting was in his near future.
It did not take long. His phone rang.
It was the vice president of the investigation department of a large insurance company.
The next day, Mike flew to the company’s corporate headquarters. They handed him a simple piece of paper. It was to develop into a very lucrative contract that would make him a lot of money for many years to come.
He was still feeling hesitant about being drawn back into the world of bureaucracies, but the clincher was when they presented him with the keys to his dream motorcycle, a restored vintage midnight black Harley-Davidson. Who could say no?
Return flight canceled. His new career had started as the wind blew in his face on the return home.
This suited Mike just fine, as long as he could turn the perps over to the police. It was his belief, God created some people to do paperwork. They called themselves police officers. Mike was a person of action. To him, pens were for drawing.
His life got exciting fast!
Mike continued building his successful career, honing his skills into his unique art form; developing an amazing skill at reading into his art. The pictures just flowed from his mind, like watching a movie.
The bad guys didn’t have a chance.
Mike relished every moment. Money was no obstacle now. He worked half as hard, so had plenty of time for his many hobbies. He settled himself into a comfy home in the country... just so he could be close enough to enjoy the one thing that constantly uplifted him.... Nature. His bond with any of the plants re-energized him anywhere he walked.
As his life progressed, even this career left him behind. His life awaited before him, just on the horizon. There were much bigger opportunities for Mike and his special skills. However, these headaches needed to be dealt with before anything else. The pounding in his head was getting worse.