A Good Home, Angels, Birds, Books, Chronic pain, Dogs, Garden, Inspiration, Life Challenges, Pets, Photographs, Spiritual, Spring

The Angel

My staircase looked as tall as Mount Everest.  But there was no alternative: I’d have to climb the mountain.

My back and leg were on fire with pain.   As I’d done so many times before, I stood at the bottom of the stairs, summoning the courage.   Then I started climbing —  on hands, feet and knees — and told myself that I was a brave mountaineer.  Sometimes, you just have to lie to yourself and hope yourself believes it.

At the top landing, I sat down. The truth was that I felt exhausted, sorry for myself and not at all brave.   But it was worth the trip upstairs to my office.   An email came from my husband, who’d left for work early that morning.

“Forgot to tell you”,  he wrote.  “I heard a Cardinal singing this morning.  I looked out the kitchen door and saw a female… the male must have been nearby.”

Via vitalxrecognition.wordpress.com/
Via vitalxrecognition.wordpress.com/

I smiled.  I could almost hear the bird singing. Could almost believe that spring had really arrived and winter was really over.

It was mid- afternoon and my daughter’s little dog, Mr. D., woke up and headed downstairs.  It was time for his walk around the garden.

Photo by Hamlin Grange
Photo by Hamlin Grange

Together we went  out the door and into the garden, snowflakes swirling around us.

He scampered along and I followed slowly, leaning on my cane.   His fur is white, making him invisible against the snow without his sweater on.  And he’s so small that the low boxwood plants that border the centre garden bed can hide him completely.

At one point I couldn’t see Mr. D. at all, though he was standing just a few feet away, wearing his sweater.  Then I saw a blur of black and white speeding around the boxwood circle.  I smiled.  He slowed down till I caught up.

Photo by Hamlin Grange
Photo by Hamlin Grange

When we returned to the front doorway, I saw a small box, with my name on it.

I tore open the cardboard. There was a book inside.

It was Elizabeth Gilbert’s The Signature of All Things.  I’d been wanting to read it.

There was a short note accompanying the book:

“For Cynthia, who notices things ‘close up’ and understands in both visceral and transcendent ways the ‘Signature of All Things’ and can write so beautifully even when she hurts.”

Blog Photo - E Gilbert book

It was from Jacqui, who works at the London Public Library.  How did she know? I wondered.  How did she know that on a day like today, this gift would cheer me up no end?

I smiled. The angel at work again.

Sometimes the angel is a sound: the song of a cardinal on a winter day; the harmony played by the wind chimes on our verandah; the hilariously huge snore that comes from a tiny dog’s body as he snoozes on the floor beside me.

Sometimes she’s a scruffy-looking stranger.  The young man who rushed to open a heavy door for me, his kind smile illuminating his entire face.

Sometimes she’s a friend.  Jacqui, sending me that book.   My husband, telling me that spring is here: the birds are singing.  My sister, showing a keen understanding.

The phone rang.  My sister had asked me – I forget when, exactly – to find out something for her.  I did.  But now she was on the phone, asking for the answer, and I couldn’t remember what it was that I’d found out.  Too much pain, too little sleep, for days and nights on end.  I felt ashamed to tell her that I couldn’t remember.  I tried to speak; instead of words, a disjointed stutter was all I could manage.   For just a moment, I felt as if I might burst into tears.

My sister recognized the warning signs and reacted quickly.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Just stop everything and rest now.”

Image Via achurchforstarvingartists.wordpress.com/
Via achurchforstarvingartists.wordpress.com/

I imagine that if the angel ever showed up as herself, she’d look like my mother:  soft brown skin, short, silver-grey hair, the picture of serenity.  In the meantime, she takes different forms and sounds, and helps me out when I least expect it.

“How do you manage to project such positive thoughts on your blog when you’re feeling so miserable?” a friend asked me one day.  She’d paid me a surprise visit, and found me struggling to get around.

“When I write on my blog, I try to uplift my readers,” I replied.   “Not sure what it does for them, but it sure makes me feel better!” At that, we’d both shared an understanding laugh and sipped our tea.

Of course, I should also have said:  “Did I ever tell you about the angel?”

Dedicated to Merle, Jane, Joanne — and all the other angels in my life.

 

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12 thoughts on “The Angel”

  1. Such a lovely story Cynthia – your indomitable spirit has my admiration – such a positive outlook you maintain. It must be so difficult at times, I just can’t imagine.

    Yesterday I heard a robin’s song for the first time as he was perched high in the silver birch by the sunroom. The chickens, with huge excitement, were finally let out to free roam and waddled happily off in all directions. How it gladdened my heart. Spring IS here!

    1. What a lovely picture of spring you describe. I can actually “see” the chickens in their excitement.
      thanks for this and wishing you a nice spring day. The sun is shining!

  2. Lovely, I’m glad all these things turned up when you needed them most. Pain is such a pisser. I hope you have built up credits at the pain bank and that tomorrow there is none so you get to enjoy the book, listen to the cardinal and giggle at the dog after a blissful pain free nights sleep.

    Cheers

    MTM

  3. Cynthia, The Law of Causality is clearly at work here! The hope and determination you convey from your life to others is returned to you in different forms at the most unexpected times. It is amazing – it never fails. I wish you a “speedy” onset of Spring in all its glory, improved health and vigour as you enjoy reading your new book.

    1. Lee:
      How good to hear from you, and what a generous reply!

      Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’m wishing you an enjoyable spring too. We gardeners really long for spring, don’t we?

  4. Cynthia, Thank you for your kind words and encouragement now that spring is here. Yesterday our family cat Radar, a much spoiled Siamese cat, sat on my window sill in the bedroom tensed up, tail wagging, shoulders hunched over and ready to spring. He was watching with great intent two wild turkeys who had landed in our garden, resting and looking for food. They stayed for about an hour, then went on their way. I silently thanked them for their presence, harbingers of spring along with a beautifully sunny day. God is good. I thank him for all the wonderful creatures in our garden. It was a respite from the pain of fibromyalgia which has once again flared up. Today however is a new day and I plan to walk around the garden to look for more signs of spring.

    1. We live with hope, Lee – don’t we? Helped along especially by the sunshine. I really like your line:
      “Today however is a new day and I plan to walk around the garden to look for more signs of spring.”
      Thanks also for sharing the scene of Radar and the wild turkeys. Must have been quite a sight!

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