Angels Everywhere

Recently our son Brendan was in a serious car accident. Thankfully, he is home and recovering well. Often when tragedy hits, we are at the mercy of strangers. The phone call came the evening before Thanksgiving. We were thrust into a world we didn't wish to enter. Mercifully, we encountered angels everywhere.

It was dusk when I rushed out of my car, running toward the flashing lights. A chorus of voices called from a porch, "Mom, mom...he's over here. He's alright." Malcolm had arrived ahead of me. He and the family that lived in the home surrounding Brendan. A woman wrapped Brendan in a blanket, apologizing for the pink princess design. She offered to take him inside.

After arriving at the hospital in Cullman, we were told that Brendan would have to be airlifted to UAB's trauma unit--he had broken a vertebrae. Nauseous, I angsted over whether we should stay with Brendan until the helicopter arrived, or to get a head start so we could get to UAB soon after Brendan would. The ER nurse assured us she would stay with him every minute until the chopper came and call us as soon as he took off. Then she touched Malcolm's elbow, "Sir, you have one job right now and that is NOT to try and beat that helicopter, because you won't and your son needs you to get there safely." Hating to leave, we knew Brendan was in caring hands.

Angels everywhere...the chaplain waiting for Brendan to arrive and stay with him until we could get to UAB...the nurse who sat with me when I needed to leave the room and catch my breath...the friend, who is a medical professional, who stayed in the ER well past midnight, protectively overseeing Brendan's care...friends and strangers, earning wings with tenderness beyond duty...meeting our questions, our eyes, our hearts with compassionate care.

Brendan arrived at his room around 3:30 am. A team of nurses and nursing assistants converged on him, mothering, soothing, kidding with him...reassuring both of us, "He's gonna be alright. These young healthy ones, they do great!"

I asked for a washcloth to bathe him. One of the assistants came back with a pan of warm, soapy water and a pile of washcloths. She held out her hand with a white cloth and my mind flashed on kneeling at the rail, hands outstretched to receive the Eucharist. Gently she smiled at me, "Mama, you get on that side and I'll be on this one. We gonna do this together." Then she turned to Brendan, smoothed his forehead with her thumb, "We gonna take good care of you baby. Don't you worry. You are a sweet boy...Your mama and I are gonna take real good care of you. You had a hard night, but it's gonna get better. I promise you. It's gonna get better. Just relax, we'll get this stuff off of you. Just relax." I have heard it said, "Every breath you take is the breath of God." This angel whose name I do not even remember, reminded me to breathe...that there was a Loving Presence among us, sustaining us...whose hands were holding out washcloths like Communion wafers.

Ours was truly a Thanksgiving filled with blessings. For that we are grateful. Namaste