I was driving home tonight when Feels Like Heaven by Peter Cetera and Chaka Khan came up on my playlist. I seem to remember being in a nostalgic 1990s music sort of mood a while back, but I certainly don’t remember listening to it after I downloaded it. Still, as soon as it started playing, something about it felt familiar in a way I couldn’t explain. 

I got chills.

As I listened, though it’s a love song, I started thinking about everything I’ve been through, every version of me that has endured the ache of grief or the struggle of starting over. Then that one lyric stood out and resonated, “You know that it feels like heaven watching over me.”

In that moment, I didn’t feel bitter about the past. I never have. What I felt instead was gratitude, for all of it. Even the loss. Because I didn’t just lose. I evolved into a deeper version of myself.

And somehow, I know heaven is still watching over me.

This isn’t the first time a lyric has felt like communication. Sometimes it feels like an answer to something I’ve been questioning. Other times, it shows up as a message I didn’t even know I needed… until it found me. Words have a way of finding me like that, arriving just when I’m ready to receive them. Not because I’m searching, but because I’ve learned to stay open.

There are moments in my life that feel like whispers from the other side. Quiet, easily missed moments. They aren’t loud or dramatic, but they get my attention and remind me I’m not walking this life alone. I’ve come to believe those moments are heaven’s way of reaching through the veil. They show up in subtle ways, through patterns only I would recognize. A sense of presence when no one else is around. The warmth of joy that rises from nowhere. A confirmation that I am being guided by something holy.

It’s not really about the signs… it’s about the relationship. An ongoing conversation between my soul and something greater. Over time, I’ve stopped needing proof. I’ve started recognizing presence. And once you’ve felt that, you just know. You know you’re understood. You know you’re loved and guided.

Tonight, that song reminded me that even in the middle of an ordinary evening drive, something deeper is always unfolding. A lyric can hold an answer. What feels like background noise might actually be a divine whisper, reminding us of what we’ve forgotten or revealing something we needed to know.

I’ve learned to make it a point to look for beauty and joy in my day. I have to. I think that’s the only way to live… the only way any of us can really live. Not by waiting for everything to be perfect, but by noticing the grace hidden inside the ordinary. That’s where peace lives. 

Staying open like that isn’t always easy, especially during difficult moments. There are times when it would be easier to shut down and stop looking for meaning. But I’ve learned that when I keep my heart open, even just a little, life has a way cheering me on. Whether it’s through a song, or a kind word from someone unexpected, something seems to always show up. Not to fix everything, but to remind me that I’m not walking through this world unnoticed. There’s something truly life-giving about staying open to the possibility that a bit of heaven is not somewhere else… but right here, in the ordinary moments we’re living now.