The last thing Jacques wanted was to get involved in a relationship. When it came to romance, "I’ve been burned more often than a fireman," he said, grinning. With a head of thick curls and neatly-trimmed beard, Jacques was ruggedly handsome, and it was easy to see why women were attracted to him. But Jacques was adamant – he didn’t want to fall in love! Unfortunately, he was about to learn a lesson: Nobody gives orders to the Universe, especially when the Universe has plans for you.
Six months ago, he began seeing someone that he’d met at a leadership conference. Part of him resisted the idea of entering into a serious relationship; the other part wanted to welcome Nancy into his life. He leaned forward in his chair and asked, "Is she the one? Should I pursue this relationship?"
I could see in his eyes how much he loved her. If I told him to forget her, he’d probably dismiss me with a shrug and keep dating her anyways; if I told him she was his intended, he’d break out a big smile and tell his friends I was the greatest psychic since the Oracle of Delphi.
Still, I said a prayer for guidance and asked my guides to step forward. What information could I give Jacques?
Take care of him, I heard. Be there for him. It’s important.
Then I visioned Jacques with his arms around a slim, elegant young woman with a beautiful smile. They were sitting on a wrought-iron bench, watching sailboats drift by beneath a clear blue sky. I told Jacques what I’d seen and he confirmed the image – last week, he and Nancy had visited the lake.
"Take care of him," I said. "That’s important."
He looked puzzled. "Take care of who?"
"That’s what I’m getting," I said, as I kept seeing scenes of Jacques and Nancy being happy together. "Enjoy the moment," I heard myself saying. "Every moment the two of you are together is precious."
He was all smiles as he got up to leave, and I wished him well.
Three months later, I received an email from Jacques. He was crushed. Nancy had died suddenly of a stroke, a few days after her 30th birthday.
I stopped reading and sat at my desk in shock. How could that have happened? I’d had no inkling … I’d told Jacques to pursue his love. My words haunted me. Every moment the two of you are together is precious…
Then I remembered a bargain I’d made with spirit: I never wanted to see someone’s death, or know anyone’s death time. Giving someone a pronouncement like that would only bring sorrow, and I always wanted to give hope. But what kind of hope had I given Jacques? What was three months of bliss, followed by the heartache of losing someone special?
Then I realized with a cold shudder that if I’d seen and foretold Nancy’s death, Jacques would’ve dropped her immediately. But would that have saved him grief, or caused more?
I read the rest of the email: "Nancy’s death was especially hard on her brother, Michael, who had been hospitalized for suicidal depression several times. I sat with him for several nights and let him just talk to me. I was so numb; I can’t even remember what he said. But yesterday, he called to thank me for listening to him. He said he didn’t think he would’ve been able to stay sane the last few weeks if it hadn’t been for me."
Be there for him. It’s important.
I wrote Jacques to offer my condolences. Spirit couldn’t save him from feeling pain, but was able to help him save a life.