“That day, after Briggs testified, I was feeling awful. And I went
out for a walk just to clear my head… and I saw something lying on the
sidewalk. It was a gold locket with the initials E.C.B. engraved on
it. My middle name is Christine. Erin Christine Bruner. And of all
the people walking by that day, I found that locket. What are the
chances of that? I don’t know, maybe it was a sign. Or maybe it was
just some incredible coincidence. But it made me feel like no matter
what mistakes I’ve made in the past, at that moment I was exactly
where I was meant to be. Like I was on the right path.”
- The Exorcism of Emily Rose
I’ve often cited this scene from the 2005 film, ‘The Exorcism of Emily Rose’ as I’ve tried to explain the personal significance of my own “signs” (or “God winks” as I more affectionately refer to them). I can count 5 major “God winks” to date. Every time one occurred, I was either about to enter into, was in the midst of, or was just coming out of a major milestone season of my life where uncertainty had led me to dive into the Word and to pray for a fresh vision of God’s perfect will. On at least 5 occasions I have experienced “something” that was to me so incredible so bizarre so serendipitous that I couldn’t dismiss it as mere coincidence. Happenings so transcendent that I knew only God could have written it into existence. Then, just a couple days ago, on December 31st, 2011… New Year’s Eve, I experienced the most powerful tangible wink from God I’ve ever known. This one knocked the breath out of me. It seemed impossible. So impossible in fact that I almost didn’t believe it. But I did my research and found solid proof. And I am thoroughly amazed. So here’s the story… I’ll write in a ramble, which is only right, since I was on a ramble, when…
…a couple of weeks ago I was on the West Coast living out a childhood dream of mine (sorry, can’t expand on that… not yet anyway). And at the peak of the intensity, my Dad, who came out to support/protect me, noticed a giant tree planter filled with river stones decorating the hotel lobby. He felt led to reach in and take one to give to me for something to hold on to and remember the journey God had brought me through that week. As he dug through stone after stone, all pale in color, a small black and white stone jumped out at him and he snatched it up to be mine. When we met up that evening, my Dad started describing how his entire day had felt acutely in step with God’s leading… every thought, every turn, every choice, moment by moment. He told me a series of cool little signs involving songs and national news events and human run-ins that didn’t at all surprise me since his whole life has been marked with that kind of crazy “fabric unfolding and weaving,” as he likes to call it. And then he told me how he was led to my stone. As soon as I held it, it felt special. I was reminded of the types of memorials that were set up in the Old Testament, like in Genesis 28 when Jacob set up a stone as a pillar and named it Bethel as a reminder of what God had spoke to him there. I knew it was the beginning of a new tradition in my life. From then on I would intentionally find a special stone to remember special moments.
A few days later, my Dad and I were back home in Franklin, Tennessee. On the morning of New Year’s Eve my Dad asked what I’d like to do on the last day of what had been a very meaningful year. Without hesitation, I said, “Let’s go hiking!” Maybe it’s just my Native American nature, but I have always felt a deep, untainted, uninterrupted connection to Christ while out in great wide open, especially when exploring mountains and hill country. So we took the short drive up to hike the high hills of Radnor Lake, and we hiked for hours. I was taking pictures and passing the camera back and forth with my dad, but every now and then I would scan the ground hoping to see a stone that looked fitting for the occasion. I picked up three along the way, but none of them spoke to me, so I ended up tossing them back. I did a lot of praying on that hike, but what I found myself asking God repeatedly was for Him to guide my every step, to speak to my spirit so loud and clear that I couldn’t help but stay in perfect sync with His purpose for my every breath.
Hiking Radnor Lake
Before I knew it, we had come to the end of the trail, and I realized I still hadn’t found the stone that I could say “God lead me to you, and you called out to me.” This part of the trail was back to lake level, and suddenly rocks were getting very sparse. So I picked up one more that looked like a particularly pretty piece of broken concrete that also failed to move me, so I threw it back too. We were just about to cross the final long walking bridge across the swampy edge of the lake and led to the parking lot , when my Dad said “look over to see if there are any streams… even the smallest flow of water will wash stones down stream.” Sure enough, I looked over the bridge and I could see a couple of narrow shallow streams through the boggy swamp grass, and they appeared to have plenty of little pebbles to choose from. So I walked about 50 yards to a point where I could safely climb over the bridge down to the ground (without having to remove my heavy pack) and I trudged through the swamp scanning each tiny stream. As I walked, I sincerely connected with God, and followed that still inner voice, until it stopped me at the edge of a stream that bent as it crossed under the walking bridge. As I bent down to scan the pebbles under the bridge, my Dad suggested a couple blond river stones he could see from the bridge, and as I stepped across to the other side of the stream he said, “there’s a bunch of interesting stones to choose from over here.” And as I spun to look down at the water’s edge I said, “yeah, but I want it to call out to me.” –and before I could finish that sentance BAM!… my eyes spotted a tiny muddy half-buried stone that appeared to have ridges on its edge. And I without question heard that familiar inner voice say “yes,” so I immediately dug it up from the mud with my index finger and rinsed it off in the stream, and while studying it I handed it up to my Dad who was now leaning over the edge of the bridge, and I said, “I don’t know if this counts as a rock…I don’t know what it is… it looks like concrete or something man-made but it’s the one I want.” My Dad had his intrigued/impressed face on (it’s always exciting when that happens) and as he turned it between his fingers and studied it’s grooves he immediately said, “This is some kind of artifact! It’s either a petrified organic fossil of some sort, or it’s a hand carved indian bead. One of the two,” and he laughed and lit up with genuine amazement. He was so certain what I had found was special, that once I climbed up onto the bridge he had me pose it between my index finger and thumb right next to the stone cross on my rosary necklace (my only rosary necklace) and he took a picture of it to commemorate the find. I couldn’t wait to get home to do some research and see if I could find any Indian beads that had a similar design… I wasn’t expecting much… but then I couldn’t believe what I discovered!!!
Pic my Dad took on the bridge right after I discovered it...
My little stone was indeed a fossil… AND an Indian Bead!!! What I had discovered was an animal fossil that is appropriately named “Indian Bead” — which is colloquial term for the fossilized stem segment of ancient “Sea Lilies,” which have the scientific name “Columnal Crinoids.” The elaborately flowered Sea Lilies are actually animals; marine echinoderms of the class Crinoidea, closely related to starfish. These stems are the anchors most Sea Lilies grow to permanently attach themselves to the rock bed. The fossil form of these Crinoid stems are generally a centimeter or less in diameter and tend to be cylindrical with a small hole (either open or filled) through the axis and can resemble unstrung beads. Sea Lilies are rare in the current era but they were common in large varieties around the mid- to late-Paleozoic era. Native Americans collected and often paint these bead shaped fossils to make jewelry and even to trade as currency. Awesome stuff for an archaeology and science buff like me, But there’s MORE…
On Malta, tradition has it that these stones had been blessed by the Apostle Paul who lived a season on the island after his famous shipwreck while en route to Nero’s court in Rome. Malta is the island where Paul survived the deadly viper bite that gave him instant credibility as a legitimate man of God among the people of Malta. Now, according to Maltese legend (which would date back to the 1st century A.D.), Sea Lilly beads can protect you against poison.
A few centuries later, in medieval Northumberland, the fossilised Sea Lily beads were collected at Lindisfarne, and strung together and used as ROSARY bead necklaces! Crazy considering the fact that my Dad took that first picture of it next to my only rosary necklace before we had any idea of the fossil’s profoundly historic significance. The natural fossil beads became directly associated with Saint Cuthbert, a monk on the island of Hobthrush (also known as Saint Cuthbert’s Isle) in the 7th century. According to tradition, Saint Cuthbert was the first to fashion the “Saint Cuthbert beads” into rosaries. In Sir Walter Scott’s poem Marmion, written in 1808:
A close-up of the twelfth century painting of St Cuthbert in Durham Cathedral
“But fain Saint Hilda’s nuns would learn
If, on a rock by Lindisfarne,
Saint Cuthbert sits, and toils to frame
The sea-born beads that bear his name:
Such tales had Whitby’s fishers told
And said they might his shape behold,
And here his anvil sound:
A deadened clang – a huge dim form
Seen but and heard when gathering storm
And night were closing round.
But this, a tale of idle fame,
The nuns of Lindisfarne disclaim.” (canto 2, verse 16)
It’s amazing to realize that the photo with my rosary necklace was surely the first photo ever taken of this ancient Sea Lilly fossil… a God-designed bead that might have spent a generation or two or twenty adorning a necklace worn by my Native American ancestors until one of them lost it here in the never-developed hills that surround Radnor Lake… hundreds or thousands of years ago… for me to find on New Year’s Eve, 2011. I am thoroughly stunned by the deep spiritual and historical symbolism of my little stone, but what had me in tears was the absolute certainty that it was God who led me to that very fossil.. the stone that cried out to me… at that very stream at that very moment, and I know this both in spirit AND in truth, as I know what I felt in my spirit that moment before I even touched the bead’s muddy edge and also have my father as my witness that I sincerely asked the Lord for such a stone as this. My new memorial stone. And again I know that no matter what mistakes I’ve made in the past, at that moment I was exactly where I was meant to be. I AM ON THE RIGHT PATH! Consider the lilies indeed.
Picture my Dad took after we discovered what it was...
the chip that gave a peek at its make up that made my Dad think I'd found a fossil.
I love its deep, gorgeous ridges
Social Media