"Angels may not come when you call them,
but they'll always be there when you need them."
It's hard to believe it's been a whole week since I've posted anything on this blog. I've tried. I've started a few posts and a couple of stories for my writing group, but I either lack the words or get interrupted before I'm finished with even a rough, rough draft.
But today, I have to write something. to let my gratitude sit quietly inside my head for one more day would be like being given a piece of chocolate cake layered and frosted with fudge and not sharing even one bite.
Today I was blessed by two angels. I didn't recognize them at first when they walked in the door. They had no wings, nor halos or gilded instruments. In fact they looked pretty much like CNA's from hospice. Dressed in bright colored scrubs each flashed a smile that made me feel better than I had in the last 24 hours. I explained the situation and the angels went right to work. First they gave Dad a cheery hello, then maneuvered him into the bathroom, helped him into the shower and scrubbed him from head to toe. I didn't hear one complaint from Dad even though he'd already told me he was afraid of the shower. I admit there are lots of opportunities for a fall, but the angels knew what they were doing and got the job done lickety split. Later after dad was settled in the den, I went back to what has affectionately been named the "crap room" to continue cleaning. To my surprise and great thanksgiving, the angels had already done most of the work. All I had to do was mop the floor, do a few more loads of laundry and spray Lysol into every nook and cranny.
As we are about to embark on the fast train to the Christmas season, I've got to think that the angels proclaiming the "Good News" had no more important job than two ladies named Tasha and Deb. May the Divine One bless them as they have blessed me.
Now that my eyes have been opened to the work of angels in my midst I see them everywhere. Three blog angels sent emails to check on me.
An angel that looks amazingly like my Sweetie held me in his arms while I cried and felt sorry first for Dad then for myself. "What can I do?" he asked in a gentle voice that sounded like it came from heaven. But he'd already done everything I needed, plus make the bed.
I received cards in the mail from my dear sister and pen pal angels. Their words always bring me comfort. How is that a special note or phone call happens just when my spirit is lagging?
And to Akasa angel: Thank you and please forgive me for not posting yet about the award you presented me. It has not gone unnoticed.
I close with a prayer:
Dear God and creator of all - good days and poop days - thank you for the angels you have sent my way. Help me to be always aware of their presence as it is far too easy to get lost in a world of self-pity and despair. Last night as I lay in bed praying for an Imodium-caused reprieve, I wept for the people in Haiti, who have no toilets, wet wipes, clean towels and linens or anti-diarrhea medicine; for the people in Sumatra who have no homes where a toilet should be; for soldiers who use make-shift latrines in countries far from home. Bless, them Mother/Father God with angels to bring them even the simplest of comfort.
And God, bless the people who ever conceived of the idea of Lysol spray and wet wipes. I wonder if they know how their inventions have saved the wits of many a distraught caregiver.
Thank you God for this opportunity to serve you, by serving my father. May your light shine through me as it has by the holy ones you sent to me.
Wishing you a day of fresh air with sheets waving in the breeze from an old fashioned clothesline,