Standing in the doorway of my soon-to-be-sold house, I was financially stretched thin.
The septic tank had failed. And then — no electricity.
Both were expensive fixes. I had no money. I looked up, smiled, and said out loud:
“I understand this is a test. I know that if it’s meant to be — if it’s time for support to come through for my children and me — then let it be repaired easily and kindly. If not, I graciously accept the outcome.
Within a minute of stepping inside the house, my phone rang.
A friend helped. Within 24 hours, both the septic and electrical issues were repaired.
A focused, honest moment of trust and surrender bounced through the universe — and returned with a perfect, immediate answer.
That’s instant karma, not as a reward, but as a response.
That clarity sent a signal. The universe received it — and echoed it right back.
“Karma is not just about the troubles, but also about surges of unexpected kindness.” — Deepak Chopra.
Every moment of your life, you’re transmitting energy — through your beliefs, your words, your emotions. You’re connected to everything. And that connection is listening.
You can’t force instant karma.
You can only allow it.
Mantra:
“I surrender the outcome and trust the return.”
“What you seek is seeking you.” — Rumi
It’s about alignment, clarity, and willingness to trust the unknown.
I used to think I was just unlucky. Like, if a banana peel could appear out of nowhere — I’d slip on it. But here's what changed everything: service with boundaries.
That’s where the real magic began.
Back when I was a nurse, surprises began arriving in my life — not the scary kind, but the beautiful, affirming kind. Patients would give me butterfly pins and letters. They balanced the scale. They helped me believe maybe life could surprise me in good ways.
It wasn’t just about the gifts — it was about being seen. And so, I started flipping the script.
One year, right before Christmas, I stopped at a hardware store for batteries, and the cashier looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor.“I’m sorry it’s so hard to be here,” I said.
And without hesitation, she replied, “Thank you. I don’t just want to leave the store. I don’t want to be here... at all.”
We ended up talking like old friends — about a poem she loved but had lost. I found myself blurting out, “Was it The Prophet by Khalil Gibran?” Her eyes lit up. “YES!”
I left, but something nudged me — I walked to a bookstore, bought The Prophet, tucked in one of my pink business cards, and returned to hand it to her and left.
Later that day, I handed roses to tollbooth workers because, apparently, once you start, it gets a bit addictive. Surprise is the antidote to fear. It breaks the pattern. It reminds us that not everything unexpected is a threat — some things arrive to say you matter.
Being afraid of the unknown doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. But when you learn to welcome surprise — the kind that glimmers like sunlight on a dark day — you begin to believe you’re lucky again.
You begin to feel that you are not just surviving the mystery of life, but dancing with it.
And isn’t that what we’re here for?
In the joyous light of love,
Nancy
