CALLING ALL ANGELS

CALLING ALL ANGELS

My mother is a saint. Maybe she is not exactly a saint because I just looked up what makes someone a saint according to the catholic church, and she is disqualified because, well, she isn’t catholic or dead. She did meet the other two requirements though:

1. Live an exemplary life

My mom is maybe the most exemplary woman I know. She loves unconditionally, and she gives and serves without asking for anything in return.

2. Perform at least two miracles

My mother came to visit me for a week. In that week she performed many miracles. The most notable of which was she made a mountain of laundry disappear. She also made my garage floor appear. See? Miraculous!

Since she can’t technically be a saint, I guess my mom is an angel. She is a messenger of God. She proclaims his love in all she does.

My last post was about how incredibly stressed out and lonely I was beginning to feel. In the past few years, I have been learning to share my struggles and ask for help. The post was an admission that I am not perfect, and I can not do this alone.

Now that I am 35, I finally get that struggling alone is a losing battle. I asked for help, and God sent me some angels.

My college suite mate, who I had not seen in person for at least 6 years, came to visit. My husband picked up some extra duties so I could spend time with my dear friend. Despite the fact that I had to work while she was here, it was refreshing to connect and share life with someone with enough history to just know me.

A couple days after my friend left, my mother arrived. I had called her right after I wrote about what it is like to be me right now.

She booked a flight immediately. She didn’t ask why I needed her; she didn’t hesitate. I called, and she came.

My mom cooked; she cleaned; she read with the kids; she played games with us; she listened; and she restored my peace.

I thank God for the angels among us- the people who show up and tell us with their actions and their words that God cares for our every need.

Don’t struggle alone. Call your angels.

Shared experience is a mathematical phenomenon:  the weight of grief is divided and the celebration of joy is multiplied. Life was meant to be lived together.