Band of angels

Definition: angel: an attendant spirit, especially a benevolent one

I awoke in a strange bed in a strange room. How did I get here? Slowly, as in a mist, the immediate past rose up: a sudden loss of leg power, crawling to a phone for help, flat on my back, sleeping on my sofa to avoid stairs – and amazingly, a growing band of angels weaving in and out, attending to me as though I were theirs to care for forever.

In a world where there’s an overflow of anger and mistrust, why were these people hovering over me? Why me? I still don’t have the answer, except to realize I’ve been voluntarily cared for – first at home, then later at the assisted living Bluffs (in a remarkably comfortable environment); I feel like Alice in Wonderland!

There’s a time when, of necessity, adjustments have to be made.

I was not alone, angels kept popping up to help with a myriad of things that for becoming a new cripple must be faced and life re-learned.

How to identify those amazing creatures:

First recognition: after the near fatal fall fall and before tying to regain normalcy, I was in a strange limbo – could not climb steps, could not drive, could not even move more than a few paces, and that with great effort. Dozing sporadically on my sofa, I thought I heard people talking in the room, saying things like, “Well, I could stay until midnight,” another adding, “I can stay from midnight to five,” and on. I awoke completely to find shadowy figures floating around the far side of the room – one of them making up a bed from spare bed parts from upstairs – shadows, eventually recognized as friends and families from around the community, some whom I’ve know for years, others I thought simply as nice acquaintances – all of whom had somehow heard about my accident, and like Topsy jus’ growed around me to make me comfortable.

They knew I could not fend for myself, so delicious meals showed up through the day; they did their best to keep me comfortable in a dozen different ways. Unreal!

It couldn’t last, and it didn’t. While they lingered to care, arrangements were made collectively (usually without my knowledge) – a room found available at the best assisted living place in the area, the aforementioned Bluffs.

Another horde of angels moved in, transferred all necessary furnishings to the Bluffs, set them up to make it look like home: the familiar furniture, familiar art work and photos on the walls, and spread around with many needed things (stationary, books , this computer) – all arranged if I’d planned it myself.

Once I was comfortably ensconced, the angels returned to their homes, but still hovered from there – phone, email, etc.) to assure my needs.

So here I am, likely for the rest of my years – as well as I could ever imagine.

What’s my point? Well, with a serious plan for the future still held at bay, I may not be able to return to my 96 years of normal living, I want to make this point:

With the dismal world we live in, flooded with hate, people fighting people, with protests, with members of families being torn apart, with uncertain political intents, looking as bleak as ever – and so much more turning us into monsters, it’s gratifying to know that in this one singular spot in this singular part of the world – my Copper Country – angels (call them what you will) still exist and a certain kind of love flows voluntarily from them when needed.

It may not be a perfect world out there, but here I still have much of my life to live, now among new angels – all bringing me amazing contentment. I still live positively, still have trust that the Man Upstairs has me in mind, am sheltered from the crazy antics being done to our weather by the inconsistency of what we’ve done to make the Climate Change gods rile in anger, and I have still those 96 years of mostly wonderful memories and those angels to comfort me.

I know that the Black Plague that raged for five centuries matches what we now experience as our pandemic, and only pray it doesn’t repeat entirely due to the stupidity and ignorance that exists among us as they did during that plague.

Perhaps I oversimplify by seeing my life as being blessed with angels who exist when you believe in them as I’ve begun to do – but for me they exist in the guise of good people and continue to ease my life even at this age. And they ignore our differences.

They’re all around us and if you try you just might find them, too, when in need.

Well, good friends, I just thought you might like to know. When you really need them badly, angels can arrive in bands to lend comfort and attention. You just have to believe in them, as I do now.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Season’s Greetings to you all.


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