Open Up Your Eyes, I am a Blessing in Disguise

~Young Jeezy

Photo by Rhett Wesley on Unsplash

Marjorie and I go way back. We had children the same age, in the same schools, worked as lunch duty moms and teacher assistants, and shared the same trailer to get things done for our classes. We spent many days laughing at the craziness of our family life. There was never a dull moment with her six children and my four.

Marje was barely 5'5", but her solid Scottish accent and always-in-control attitude, combined with a dash of dry humor, made her seem at least six feet tall!

As the years went by, our children grew, went on to Jr. High and High School, and our job titles changed. We worked together in the same office. I became a youth minister, and Marje became our secretary. She ran that place like nobody’s business. We all knew who was in charge, and we were grateful. Oh, and how much fun we had!

Marje was about 15 years older and was good at listening to friends’ woes. She had a way of making problems seem not so overwhelming. We’d sit out back on our breaks, with a hot cup of tea, and the wisdom that came out of her left us feeling pretty uplifted when we returned to work.

We were friends who traveled, worked, cried, laughed, and went through many challenging experiences together. Until…

The Separation

Ten years later, I was going to marry someone from my past before I knew Marje. He had stepped back into my life, and because he lived in another state, we’d marry in my hometown, and with my youngest, then a senior in high school, in tow, move across the country.

She disapproved.

Marje didn’t know my husband to be and became very protective, like a mother, not a friend. She said she’d give the marriage six months tops. And because we didn't see eye to eye on my new path, she didn't come to the wedding, nor did some of our friends who stood by her side with this attitude, and we ended up parting on very unhealthy terms. No hugs and no good-byes.

After the move and the first few years, it was very tough for me. My mom had passed away two weeks after I married, and my best friend wanted nothing to do with me. Making friends was difficult. I had grown up in San Diego and lived there all my life until I married again at 42. There was nowhere in my city where someone didn’t know me, and being so far away, the introvert in me settled in.

Because of Marje and my split, the void was real and lonely. So I would write in my journal asking our Creator to help me be at peace with this separation, and I made a habit of sending only positive love her way every day. Doing this lightened my heart of the heaviness her absence brought to my life.

One time, I told my husband a funny story about Marje over dinner. Afterward, we laughed, and he asked if I thought it might be time to give her a call.

“After all,” he said, “it has been five years, and I can see how much you miss her.”

I made excuses why I shouldn’t call, “she might hang up on me,” or “the lies she said about you are still hard for me to swallow.” Deep inside, I knew, though, that if she rejected me again, emotionally, I’d be a mess. My husband reassured me that if she did not want to talk, I’d know, and that he would be there to help me through it and bring closure to the relationship.

The Call

When Marje answered the phone with that beautiful Scottish accent, my heart sank; I realized then how much I had missed her, and I could also hear the joy in her voice. When she asked how I was, in my best Scottish accent, I said, “Ah, Marjorie, I’ve been missing ya something awful!” She laughed. It was music to my ears to hear her laugh again, and we ended up talking for two hours, making plans for me to visit.

I found, at that moment, when I genuinely released my anger and frustration over what happened five years earlier, that my heart felt lighter and I was at peace. It was more important for me to reconnect with my closest friend than to be right about the things that brought the division in the first place.

The Visit

Three weeks later, as I flew into one of the smallest airports I had ever seen, I could actually see her van waiting out front. Even though she and her husband had moved to another state, I felt like I was coming home. I couldn’t wait and was so excited. The moment we saw each other, the smiles and hugs spoke volumes about how much we missed one another.

The second night there, we stayed up until 4:00 am, sifting through the anger, what was said and what wasn't, the questions, the hurts from five years before— everything. It was a cleansing experience for us, and the rest of the week unfolded beautifully.

She worked at an after-school program, and I’d go with her, play with the kids, and get them all riled up, just to get her goat. Marje’s accent came out full force when she’d get annoyed, and I thought she was adorable and always told her so.😈

Another day, she made my favorite shortbread cookies, and I made her lemon meringue pie. We then made a pot of tea, and both just about finished our desserts in one sitting as we shared laughs from our past.

After all this time away, Marje’s son had mentioned one night how odd it was that I was there in their home, laughing, sharing like old times. It seemed to him like serendipity at work. But I told him, to me, it was more like “God’s grace.” That Spirit knew how hard it had been on his mother and me (as I winked at her), and it was time to bring our hearts back together because life was way too short not to!”

As we said our goodbyes, we hugged, and Marje said in that accent of hers, “No more tears, Ter, everything is fine now, and I’ll make my road trip plans to your place in a few weeks to get to know that man of yours.”

As I boarded the plane for home, my heart whispered a quiet ‘thank you’ for this visit, and my heart was indeed at peace.

Courtesy of EvaMichalkova / Pixabay.com

The Unexpected News

Two weeks after my visit, and the plans well on the way for her visit, I got a call from a good friend that Marje had died of a massive heart attack while leaving work that afternoon.

After my breath returned to my lungs, I could only close my eyes and thank Spirit as I remembered the conversation Marje, her son, and I had on the last night I was there.

This Blessing in disguise unfolded itself right in front of me before I could even see it.

I smile gratefully to the Light of our Universe for finding one of my most precious relationships so essential that It made sure we reconciled before her passing.

This experience showed me that, even though I am just one heart in this big, incredible, sometimes overwhelming world, this all-knowing Spirit lives within all of us, with no exceptions, listening to and mending our hearts in ways only It can. And it is our choice whether to acknowledge this divine interaction. I choose interaction, and continue to do so now, in each moment of my life.

The Gift Within The Story

I wrote this story long ago. But the lesson we take from it has no expiration date and can be found throughout our lives. Sometimes doors must be physically closed to protect ourselves, but forgiveness, whether accepted or not, is essential to allowing peace to open the door and make a home again in our hearts.🦋

Thought to Ponder:
What door has closed for you that, when reopened, allows peace to feel at home again in your heart?

©2026 Terry Pottinger