The Pink House

Grief invites synchronicities into ordinary moments, reminding us that more is possible than we know.

There was a house in our little town which was painted pink from top to bottom.  My daughter Hannah loved this house.  In the last year of her life, each time we passed it, she would say, "That's where I am going to live!"

A year and a half after Hannah's death, my daughter Madelaine was born.  One day, when Madelaine was almost three-years old, we were driving to the grocery store.  Suddenly Madelaine started shrieking from the back seat,  I turned to see what was happening and saw her pointing to the pink house.

"Mommy," she exclaimed, "That's the house where Hannah and I played in heaven before I was born!"

Even now, this moment sends shivers through me.  I had no idea how she knew, and in that moment I didn't need to.  I receive it as a gift from Hannah's life, an invitation to see the magic and mystery in everything.