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Intuition is a guide.

If we listen and are open, we can be instruments for higher good.

It was a blustery, cold January night in Canada. My partner at the time retired early, and I stayed up which was often the opposite. I was feeling off and spent time in solitude grounding and meditating.

My heart was feeling heavy, and quiet reflection was my medicine.

Because it was time for sleep and my eyes wouldn’t stay open, I walked past the door to our condo and heard a voice—an inner voice—saying, “Leave the door open.”

So I did, and I ascended the stairs then crawled into bed.

During that time, my heart was heavy with grief—a grief so deep that it wedged a great divide between my partner and myself. I sighed, feeling alone whilst listening to the snoring waves of my spouse, and I slipped into deep sleep while I hugged myself.

Half in a dream state, I woke and sat up to a blurry vision of an old man, wearing a nightshirt in my walk-in closet. Unaware if it is was a dream or a spirit, I called out, “Who are you, and what do you want?”

This inquiry was what my family always instructed us to do if we were confronted with a spirit.

As conscious awareness came to me, I was cognizant that this was a human man in my house. I don’t know what frightened me more, the thought of a spirit or human.

How did he get in, and why was he in my closet?

Like a character in Scrooge in his old-fashioned nightshirt, he stood shaking. I shook my partner to wake him up, and he bolted up, ready to fight.

He leapt out of the bed and into the face of the elderly man as I gasped, “He is a geriatric man. Don’t touch him.”

My warning stopped my protecting spouse in his tracks, and he grabbed his own robe. He rubbed his eyes as I walked closer to the fragile man who started to cry. We both soon understood that this man had dementia and was lost and trying to find his way out in our closet.

On the coldest night, in frigid Canadian winter, I had listened and left the door open, and this had saved a man’s life.

We soon learned that our visitor was from another city and visiting family. He was a retired physician who was quickly losing his faculties.

That night, in a strange environment, he was confused and lost. While his family slept, he left the house and desperately tried to find his way back by coming into our house.

Luckily, this elderly man did not lose his life as he got lost in a prairie storm. I, thankfully, left the door open. I listened to my intuition. Over tea and toast, we sat with the gentleman and relaxed while we waited for his family, which the police has informed us were close by and looking.

That night, my heart softened, and my partner and I shared our stories of listening to a higher power. My partner told me he too felt that he should leave the door open and listened contrary to his ritualistic routine of securing our home.

We talked about spirituality and connection and the gifts of spirit. We talked about life and love and home. We felt connected and stronger, even though the grief and life challenges remained.

I am thinking about this now, four years later, and reflecting on life and love and the connection between this world and the next.

Grief is still heavy at times, but it has lessened, and I have softened. I am now on my own, navigating life. I’m forever grateful for each and every relationship and experience, and I remain open, listening to my intuition.

The veil between this world and the next is a thin one, and when spirit speaks, my heart and soul will listen.