Angels in America
Do you ever feel like there are angels that walk among us?
I do...sometimes.
I can remember being tiny and encountering a woman in a store that helped me find my mom. I was scared but being quiet; I wasn't crying but, somehow, she knew. I was afraid of strangers in general, never being an overly trusting soul, but not of her. I spotted my mom, oblivious that I was missing, and walked up to her side. When I looked back for my angel, she was gone.
There was a guy that struck up a conversation while I ate alone one night 5 or 6 years ago. Lonely and wondering if things would ever change, he started chatting in a casual and innocuous way. He asked a few questions and was very positive; he connected well. We talked for 20 or 30 minutes. He reminded me that it was a beautiful day and that we lived in a gorgeous city. He shared and met me where I was. I walked away from that restaurant with a lighter heart.
My girl was telling me how recently, when she sat at the hospital with her sedated and non-communicative father, a nurse came in the room. She was sweet, pleasant and had a lovely Caribbean type accent. She did her job and then she stopped and talked to my girl. She told her to go to school and get something from it that nobody, no person, could take away from her. She told her to find herself a good man to be with. She knew why my girls dad was in the hospital...she cared enough to comfort, soothe and lift up my girl as she sat there weighted down with the decisions she had to make and the care she chose to lavish on her addict/mentally ill father.
The next one is someone I know. A neighbor girl who has grown into a lovely woman. She didn't have to stop by that hospital room. It was not part of her job, but she did. She stepped in and reached out in what could be uncomfortable or shame-filled or embarrassing. She bridged the gap that kept my girl on an island alone. She could relate in some way....not perfectly but enough to create commonality. What a beautiful thing.
Maybe there aren't angels. Maybe it just us when we pull ourselves out of our brains, our lives, our struggles and reach out to someone that might need just ONE KIND WORD.
I'm trying for my wings.
I do...sometimes.
I can remember being tiny and encountering a woman in a store that helped me find my mom. I was scared but being quiet; I wasn't crying but, somehow, she knew. I was afraid of strangers in general, never being an overly trusting soul, but not of her. I spotted my mom, oblivious that I was missing, and walked up to her side. When I looked back for my angel, she was gone.
There was a guy that struck up a conversation while I ate alone one night 5 or 6 years ago. Lonely and wondering if things would ever change, he started chatting in a casual and innocuous way. He asked a few questions and was very positive; he connected well. We talked for 20 or 30 minutes. He reminded me that it was a beautiful day and that we lived in a gorgeous city. He shared and met me where I was. I walked away from that restaurant with a lighter heart.
My girl was telling me how recently, when she sat at the hospital with her sedated and non-communicative father, a nurse came in the room. She was sweet, pleasant and had a lovely Caribbean type accent. She did her job and then she stopped and talked to my girl. She told her to go to school and get something from it that nobody, no person, could take away from her. She told her to find herself a good man to be with. She knew why my girls dad was in the hospital...she cared enough to comfort, soothe and lift up my girl as she sat there weighted down with the decisions she had to make and the care she chose to lavish on her addict/mentally ill father.The next one is someone I know. A neighbor girl who has grown into a lovely woman. She didn't have to stop by that hospital room. It was not part of her job, but she did. She stepped in and reached out in what could be uncomfortable or shame-filled or embarrassing. She bridged the gap that kept my girl on an island alone. She could relate in some way....not perfectly but enough to create commonality. What a beautiful thing.
I'm trying for my wings.
The world can always used more angels. It's already overstocked with devils.
ReplyDeleteI think sometimes it is just that so many people have been so damaged that they can't risk exposing their tender sides. Too much pain involved. For myself, I cannot not live without the risking.
DeleteWhen you think about how slim the chance was that any of us found each other here on the blogosphere, I believe there are a lot more angels doing a lot more things in our lives than any of us are ever aware of. Birdie is one of those angels. You might just be one of them too.
ReplyDeleteAmen!! You and Birdie have been so comforting and inspiring to me. Always trying, always willing to admit frailty. I'm am blessed.
DeleteI so want to believe
ReplyDeleteXxx
I believe you may have the makings of a fine set of wings.
DeleteI think there are remarkable people on this planet that can be labelled as angels!
ReplyDeleteAgreed!
DeleteI agree with Martha. There are remarkable people that we can call saints, or angels, or just remarkable people. I also believe in angels. I've seen angels, had personal experiences with a couple and know that they are there. (Yes, I've had my medication!)
ReplyDelete