I am reading a book and listening to the television, and at exactly the same time (3:10 p.m., 9/27/22), I see and hear the word “focus.” And again, the same word “syncs” at 6:20 p.m. today (9/28/22). What is the message, I might wonder, but it seems fairly obvious: focus is needed in one way or another. It is a little odd that 6:30 is twice 3:10. Further meaning? Normally, I don’t spend much time trying to figure out the meaning of the message. I simply accept the message from some aspect of the universe, say thanks, and move on. I receive syncs frequently. Like all the time. I used to write them in a little notebook, and then I kept them in my phone. Now, I grab an index card and simply note the occurrence. But, today, I am pondering if perhaps this is a specific message from a specific person. My dad would have been 97 today. He transitioned on July 5, 2004. He was, in life, a skeptic of what I know to be true—there is no such thing as death, there are no dead. He believed that when you died, the lights went out, and you were gone. I told him, “Okay dad, when you get there, you can let me know I was right. An hour and a half after he passed, he let me know I was right. He impressed on me to get his WWII photo showing him in front of his plane. I found the picture, took it out of the frame, and turned it over. It had a message written on it, which I had never seen before, to my mother, “The greatest of these is love.” These are the same words that were read to him in the hours before he passed. That sync was all I needed to know he was okay. For the next year, he did “tricks” to let us know he was around. Very specific things occurred at very specific special moments. Perhaps, knowing I am finally laser-focused on my writing, he was encouraging me to focus, and repeated it twice, in the way it did, to make sure I got the message.