Good Omens

One of my all-time favorite pieces of literature is The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. It is the story of a boy named Santiago. Significantly, Coelho only mentions the boy’s name once, in the first sentence. After that he generally refers to his main character as “the boy.”

Maybe this is partially because it isn’t really a story about Santiago. It is a story about a boy. It could be any boy, anyone. In a way, it is my story and it is your story. The boy starts his journey with a dream. The story follows his adventures as he chases that dream, the delays, the lessons he learns, the obstacles he overcomes, and ultimately the realization of that dream.

In a rather Kong Fu Panda like way, (not to spoil the climax) the boy discovers that the mystery of the dragon warrior is within, secret sauce ingredient is himself, the universe is in his heart. The treasure he was searching for all along was there from the start.

A visit from the old King Melchizedek kickstarts the shepherd boy’s journey from Andalucia in southern Spain to the pyramids of Egypt. In that visit, the King imparts some vital wisdom. He also talks about omens:

“In order to find the treasure, you will have to follow the omens. God has prepared a path for everyone to follow. You just have to read the omens that he left for you.”
Before the boy could reply, a butterfly appeared and fluttered between him and the old man. He remembered something his grandfather had once told him: that butterflies were a good omen. Like crickets, and like expectations; like lizards and four-leaf clovers.
“That’s right,” said the old man, able to read the boy’s thoughts. “Just as your grandfather taught you. These are good omens.”

I don’t consider myself a superstitious person but ever since reading that book, whenever a butterfly crosses my path as I’m walking, I call it a good omen. This morning on a hike on the mountain trails near our home, a few butterflies fluttered past. I couldn’t help but think to myself, “That’s a good omen. I’m on a good path and headed in the right direction.”

Butterflies aren’t the only “omens” that give me gentle assurances of God’s awareness of me. I believe that God speaks to us all the time. He loves to send us messages, and the more we listen the more He shares. Through the Holy Ghost, He sends personal revelation, guidance and goodness specific to the individual.

God speaks to me in simple ways that I can understand. He speaks to us in our own language to our understanding. Sometimes that is a word or thought or feeling. Sometimes it is through symbols. I love symbols, so God uses them to speak to me.

One sign or symbol of God’s love is rain. When I was in young woman’s, a church leader mentioned that every time it rains, that’s God’s way of saying, “I love you.” I imagined God down-pouring out His love from heaven. If you grew up in Seattle that might not be special to you, but I lived in St. George, so rain was very special. At times when I needed a little love, on important days in my life, and other random moments, it would rain and I would feel God’s love.

In personal ways, little things can take on symbols, and when they appear it shows a recurring message from God, weaving a theme throughout your life. For my friend Mikelle, God speaks to her through stars. Whenever she sees a shooting star, she feels that assurance of God’s love and approval. On her wedding day, the temple sealer mentioned stars and I was overcome with tears. In that special moment God sent a message of His love and awareness that she would recognize.

To my mom, tulips are important. Her mother, Mary, loved tulips. They come in the spring as a symbol of hope, new life, and healing. At a time when I needed healing and new life, my mom gave me yellow tulips. They have also taken on new meaning to me because tulips are from Holland.

In January 2020, I heard a talk that would return in ripples over the next few years. It was about Italy and Holland. The story goes that you are planning a trip to Italy. You can’t wait for Italy! You pack, prepare, learn the language, and obsess over Italy. Italy represents your hopes, dreams, aspirations, and perfect life.

Then on the airplane, the pilot’s voice comes on overhead and informs you that there has been a change of plans and you will be landing in Holland. Holland?! But you wanted to go to Italy! You wanted to eat Italian food and see the Italian coasts.

You arrive in Holland. Holland represents when God’s flight plans for your life don’t match what you had hoped. Holland is where the broken people go. It’s when your dreams are crushed. But overtime you learn that Holland is beautiful. You start to fall in love with the windmills and the tulips. And God makes you a better person because you went to Holland.

When I first heard that story I laughed it off because I knew that might happen to other people, but not me. I was actually going to Italy in just a few months as a missionary! My life was literally perfect! Until it wasn’t. Covid hit the week before I was supposed to go to the missionary training center (my suitcases were packed), and you know the rest of the story.

Texas didn’t look like Holland and I didn’t find tulips there. But I was a bit broken and I did fall in love with the place. God made me a better person through it. The magnolias of Houston became my symbolic tulips of Holland. Whenever I saw magnolia trees abundant with their massive white blossoms, I was filled with a sense of healing, purpose, and hope. Magnolias became a good omen.

That wasn’t the last time God metaphorically sent me to Holland, and it wasn’t the last time I’ve been broken. But whenever I see tulips or magnolias, I feel that God is sending me a nudge to trust His plans.

The tulip festival in Lehi, Utah was a personal “Holland” for me this spring. A place of healing, hope, and peace.

I should have foreseen this, but it was the last thing I expected. I turned my head to take a second look when I first saw a magnolia tree here in Italy. Of course there are magnolias in Italy.

After I sent my missionary brother James a voice recording explaining that I was in Italy, he said that he thought my journey here was very “poetic.” Yes, it is poetic. A much better story than I could have written. I love writing and usually try to do that with the story of my life. I fall in love with a future place or relationship and think I can write my own happily ever after. When God takes the pen, my heart revolts. Because I liked my story. I loved that place or person or future I thought I had. But I forget that God is a better author. He is the Author of my salvation. He has a better Plan. How poetic, how sweet, that after a journey He did bring me to Italy.

Like the boy Santiago on his way to Egypt, sometimes we have to go on a long journey just to find ourselves, just to discover who we really are. I’ve heard it called “soul searching.” We were on a weekend backpacking trip at Lake Blanche when we met her, the woman camping alone. She said that her husband would join her in four days but that for now she was out there alone doing some soul searching. You could say I’m doing a bit of soul searching here.