I am the biggest skeptic going, never believing in mediums, psychics, tarot card readers or other fortunetellers. However, I do believe in the signs I have been sent for many years.

My dear brother Robert passed away a few years ago on Nov. 3 at the age of 44. One day, three short weeks after his death, I was sitting at my desk — the day before Thanksgiving. I was so depressed at the thought of his empty chair at the table, I left work. On my way home, I talked to Robert, telling him I would take care of his beloved black Lab, Midnight. I was sobbing at a red light, then turned my head to see a tow truck pull up next to me. In big red and white letters were the words “Midnight Towing.” My breathing stopped. OK, Robert, I got you.

One evening my husband was driving my twin sons to their high school basketball game. It was March 31, the birthday of my beloved Aunt Joanie, who had just passed the week before in Georgia. My mother and I flew there to be with her sister, who was dying of cancer. I loved her deeply and we had always been very close. When we were alone in the hospital room, she whispered to me, “We always had a special bond, I love you.” She gave me the greatest gift, and I will always remember those tender words.

Sitting in the passenger seat next to my husband, I was thinking about Joanie, wishing her a happy birthday in heaven. I then thought of something silly: Where is the peach on the Georgia license plate? I became frustrated because I couldn’t remember, and it was stupid. Just at that moment, a car with a Georgia license plate passed us, its back directly in my sight. Come on! How often have you seen Georgia plates on the LIE? I gasped and then cried. I scared everyone, but I knew: Love you too, Joanie.

One day while cleaning out a closet, I found a yellow tennis ball that my lovable Lhaso Apso, who passed away, played with incessantly. I got melancholy and told her how much I loved her and what a good dog she was. I continued to divide the piles into charity and trash and found an old leather handbag bought in Portugal many years ago. I tossed it in the trash pile and continued working, but something kept telling me to check the inner pocket of the handbag. I felt that was stupid — I never really used it, and purchased it years ago. Finally, irritated, I checked. In the pocket was Munchy’s rabies tag. She heard me and spoke of her love for me, too.

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I am currently facing the biggest and hardest fight in my life — and for my life. I was diagnosed with ALS. I constantly pray day and night for God’s healing mercy. One particularly bad night, I asked God to send me a sign that he hears me, he cares. My birthday is on the 26th of the month. I developed a way of adding to my usual prayer routine. When I see the number 26 I always say an “Our Father.” The next day I was doing a crossword puzzle and the clue for No. 26 was “Other words for the Lord’s Prayer.” What are the chances? Thank you God, you hear me, you are with me.

I have an aide who is very religious. She brought her Bible and told me to read Psalm 91. I read it and it made an impression. Later that evening I decided to find my Bible. It was stuffed with memorial cards, prayer cards and other saint cards. I opened it to where the cards, together, formed a bookmark; it was Psalm 91. I hadn’t opened my Bible in quite a while. Again, what are the chances? God is there sending me a message.

Am I a believer in signs? Why wouldn’t I be?