Odd things rarely happen to me. I’ve never encountered anything out of the ordinary. I’ve never been abducted by aliens or seen ghosts in the historic hotels I write about, not even in high school when my friends and I would drive to the cemetery or park and wait for ghosts to show up. They never did. Until recently, my only strange experience was years ago when I lived in Austin. One Sunday night, I conjured up an angry family of dwarfs behind my fence in the backyard, but I’ll save that story for another time. Then came the incident that happened at 5:02 am on March 3.

I was deeply engaged in my morning prayer and meditation routine, asking the Holy Father to speak to me. He usually doesn’t say much, if anything, and at times, I find myself feeling frustrated with Him. When that happens, I realize my mind is too chaotic for Him to get a word in. So, I practice some deep breathing exercises and ask the Holy Spirit to intervene. I’ve always envisioned the Holy Spirit as a delicate white dove that, when it arrives, gently flutters over my right shoulder, bringing an overwhelming sense of joy. During one of our priest’s homilies, he mentioned that the Holy Spirit can often feel like a powerful force.

That morning, I reached a point of frustration over not hearing God’s voice, and I begged Him to send the Holy Spirit. At that moment, the condo shook. The pictures on my wall and the vases on my dresser trembled, and I realized it was an earthquake. I live on the Pacific Coast, where mild, undetectable earthquakes often occur, but this was the first time I had ever felt one. I was terrified, fearing the roof would collapse on top of me. After the shaking stopped, a profound sense of peace washed over me, and I began to laugh.

My husband came in and said, “That was an earthquake.” I responded, “I know. I’m so sorry.” I’d just caused a 4.5-magnitude earthquake. The epicenter was only a few miles away. At last, I heard His voice. He said, “I’m here. You worry too much.” My peaceful feeling gave way to gratitude, so I opened my Bible to the Psalms and picked one at random to read. I started to feel kind of silly until I read Psalm 46:

God is our refuge and our strength, an ever-present help in distress. Thus we do not fear, though the earth be shaken and the mountains quake to the depths of the sea . . .

You might assume I fabricated this or that my imagination is simply working overtime on fiction. Not at all; this is true, perhaps not as far-fetched as my dwarf story, but true just the same.

Comment if you want to hear my dwarf story.