Christmas is our favorite season. We begin decorating the day after
Thanksgiving, each year, with old and new decorations, leading to our manger
scene. We love angel figurines, and have them throughout the house, especially
during the holy season.
One thing was missing last Christmas - my husband's enthusiasm. The trauma we
faced was about to unfold, but despite this becoming his second surgery in
fifteen years, God's forces were not to permit such devastation because unknown
to us, angels were about to surround us, angels were in the midst.
My husband went for a routine check up, having had "indigestion", for months.
Not long after he left home for an evening doctor's appointment, my telephone
rang. Panic was in his voice, as he said, "I'm being taken to the emergency
room, downtown. You need to get the car from the doctor's parking lot, so you
will have transportation. Don't leave the house until I have called you, because
I am unsure which hospital will be admitting me." I tried desperately to sound
calm, reassuring him I would do as he said, and would be waiting for his call.
Panic struck me as I hung up, but a peace transcended that barrier as I prayed
for strength, and for him to survive.
I recovered the car. After having an angioplasty, he was told bi-pass surgery
was needed, immediately. I could feel a knot in the pit of my stomach. He was
older, and I prayed he had the strength to survive the surgery.
For the next ten days, my life would be transformed. I drove the same road,
crossed the perpendicular streets leading me to his hospital, where he lay
critically, after the bi-pass surgery. His heart was beating irregularly, the
medication was not controlling it. He could not be moved from intensive care,
where body after body was being wheeled in for similar surgery, which I feared
would add to the trauma he was facing, once he was conscious, as I observed this
activity, sitting by his side, daily, waiting for his eyes to open for him to
know I was there. It took time for him to recall what was going on once he did.
I was relieved when he was finally moved into his private room, recovering.
The area where the hospital was was foreign to me. Never had I driven there, and
the streets were a mixture of "old" with the "new", laid out without rhyme or
reason. I thanked God that the main street to the hospital was in a straight
line unlike those curving leading to perpendicular ones, onto which I needed to
cross, before arriving and departing from the hospital, timely, and safely.
Overly concerned about his ongoing critical condition, I began losing my focus
after arriving home, continuous nights as the dawn drew me to another day's
obligations, with little if any sleep, at all. I found comfort in calling his
attending nurse to ask how he was, what few hours allowed me respite. So it was
unusual for me to get four hours' sleep, which proved to be threatening, as the
days went on.
Our Christmas decorations were still on display, the weather, treacherous,
especially driving conditions. I drove only when absolutely necessary, my
unfamiliarity with the outskirts of our suburbs became intimidating as night
descended. Dusk became alarming to me. Not having a choice one evening, I
challenged it.
Our month's bills needed to be sent out, but my husband usually managed them.
Once he was out of danger, and moved into his room, he reminded me to send them
out.
When I arrived home one evening, I found I only had three stamps. I attached
them to the bills, and reminded myself that I needed to buy a stamp book.
The next day, I decided to return to the hospital to spend the night with him,
because he wasn't eating hospital meals. I stopped by a grocery store to buy a
few items to snack on, since the hospital had no restaurant, and those around it
were too far away. The first thing the clerk asked me as I placed my items on
the counter was, "Would you like to buy a book of stamps?' I was to recall this
much later.
I left the hospital as dusk ascended that day, after seeing my husband
progressing, eating, talking, ensuring care of his immediate needs were being
monitored, consistently by the nursing staff accommodating him.
It had rained, so the streets were slippery, and it was foggy. I began driving
home on the "same street" I believed had been bringing me to and from the
hospital, until the road darkened, and there were no lights, buildings, houses,
landmarks, after driving a considerable distance from the hospital. I suddenly
became frightened, wondering where I was, and how I would find my way with no
direction in sight. Then, I noticed my gasoline gauge reading, "empty."
I prayed for God to help me out of my dilemma, and keep me calm. I knew the
danger I could be facing, especially if my car stopped running at night in the
middle of no where without anyone to help me.
Once I decided there was no sign of life, I made a u-turn, returning me to the
street from which I was sure led back to the hospital. I found, later it did
not.
After driving a few miles, all of a sudden I saw the brightest lights, as though
"ET" was ascending right before my very eyes. It was a filling station right on
a corner, I should have noticed, but didn't recall seeing as I got lost. I
walked in, where an attendant stood behind the counter. I asked him, "Do you
know where Rancho Cordova is?" He said, "No", but reached immediately for his
map, opening it to try locating my destination. As he was perusing the map, a
woman walked in, directing herself to me, asked: "Where are you going?" I told
her. She said, "I can help you get there. I am parking by that fence (pointing),
waiting for you. Once you're ready, I will lead you. When you see my right
blinker on, it is your signal to exit." I thanked her. I then, rushed outside to
fill my tank with gasoline. To my dismay, I couldn't fathom how to fill the car.
From nowhere, a man with a smile on his face appeared. He made sounds and
signals indicating he could help me. After filling my tank, he smiled at me, as
I thanked him, and was gone.
The woman began driving in front of me, on the dark, glassy, wet freeway. As she
blinked her right signal light, I exited and began recognizing all my familiar
surroundings, in which I had felt so secure just days prior to my husband's
hospitalization, as we shopped for Christmas gifts.
The house felt like a void big as the crevice for which the Grand Canyon is
known. I prayed for him to be home soon. It was empty, and so lonely without
him.
Once he was doing well, I was able to organize my thoughts and recall activities
since his surgery.
How did the girl at the grocery store know I needed stamps? I bought nothing
resembling a need for mailing. The woman coming into the filling station didn't
buy gasoline. How did she know I was lost, when nothing was said between the
filling station attendant and me, as she walked in?
The man rescuing me from my dilemma filling my gasoline tank was a mute! Neither
did he buy gasoline, nor did I hear his car leaving. At the time these enigmas
were of little concern to me because I was struggling to survive.
Once my husband was coming home, my mind was centered, and clarity exposed
possibilities unexplainable any other way, but this:
It has been said that angels are dressed as ordinary beings. And, that God sends
them to our aid in times of loss and trauma, guiding us to our journey or
destination. I have been unable to find any other answer for the appearances of
these unusually extraordinary, wonderful beings' appearances. I accept God's
protection with unending gratitude, feeling so very blessed for their coming to
my aid when they did. The other unexplained is that as many times as my husband,
now recovering at home, has driven through that area, he has not been able to
find the filling station, nor does he recall one ever having been there.
Copyright February 26, 2002
1Thess 5:11 Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in
fact you are doing.
MY PRAYER... Give me strength and patience, O God, that I may be as loving,
gentle, and patient with others as you have been with me. Through Jesus my Lord
and hero I pray. Amen.
Rose BELIEVEIM@webtv.net
The Illustrator: This daily newsletter is dedicated to encouraging
everyone to look towards Jesus as the source of all the solutions to our
problems. It contains a daily inspirational story, a Bible verse and encouraging
messages. HTML and plain text versions available.
The Nugget: Published three times a week, this newsletter features inspirational devotionals and mini-sermons dedicated to drawing mankind closer to each other and to Christ.