My dad insists we live among angels. He maintains that angels aren’t confined to otherworldly beings. Some exist with flesh and blood. They are imperfect but have one perfect moment in which they are in the right time and right place. For some, they might have a series of moments. I’m hoping I’ll have at least one perfect moment in which I can be somebody else’s angel. That I’ll be in the right place at the right time to help somebody. As opposed to my habit of wrong time, wrong place. But that’s a topic for another blog probably dealing with my own psychoanalysis. Or just a private journal entry.
My dad cites an example of an angel encounter in California. We were completely and totally lost like, well, a carful of Wyomingites in the Golden State. While we were pulled off the road studiously and probably a little argumentatively looking at a map, an angel appeared at the side of our car. She gave us directions and we were on our way. Don’t worry, we made it home safe and sound so her directions must have been valid. However, I had forgotten about the experience and was only reminded of it recently by my dad. He never forgot our encounter with an angel.
After dad reminisced about our Golden State Angel, I realized it’s possible I’m taking for granted other angel encounters. I don’t want to be ignorant of any miracles in my life. Or worse, ungrateful. So, here’s my story of my recent angel encounter.
A few months ago I took my mom to the Huntsman Cancer Institute for her treatment. We didn’t know at the time, or at least, we hoped it wouldn’t be one of the last times she’d be there. She’d been sick for some time and her condition was deteriorating. But she was a fighter. I wheeled her into the infusion room and all of the nurses greeted her with a hopeful and cheery, “Hello, Marilyn!” Yes, they remembered her name. Most of them made a point to come over and give her a hug. A few even took time to talk with her. Each of them demonstrated a personal level of care for one of my most treasured assets.
That attention and care for my mom was impressive in itself. However, it didn’t stop there. We were in that room most of the day. The room was always filled with both patients and caregivers sitting side by side. Nobody wanted to be there and everyone needed to find hope. Some were jovial others were somber. But for every person in that room brought together by a common enemy, the nurses offered aid and solace. They laughed with those willing to laugh. They tried to make comfortable those that couldn’t laugh that day. It was a truly beautiful scene.
So significant was the time my mom spent in the infusion room that when she found out there would be no more treatments she wanted to say goodbye to her angels. I wheeled her to the infusion room but it was a Saturday and it’s closed on Saturday. By chance, a couple of nurses were there doing paperwork. I knocked on the glass door and a nurse opened it for us. When she saw mom sitting in her wheel chair, she knew this was a final farewell and gave my mom a hug. She let us come in to the new infusion room that my mom never got to use and gave us a little tour. I will be forever grateful to the angels on the 2nd floor who showered tender mercies upon my mom.
I have to agree with a very wise man. We definitely live among angels. And hopefully, I can be somebody’s angel.