The Blessing of Angels...

I have always wondered about Angels... I think most of us have.

There are those that believe in guardian angels who watch over us and protect us from stepping from the curb when a distracted car is carelessly zooming by our location at break neck speeds totally oblivious that we are there. Some think of spirits, such as of old family members who speak to us via a medium like Silvia Brown, or John Edwards who are in limbo, or in paradise, but need our help to cross over because of some unfinished business here in this world. Some believe in something darker like in the movies "The 6th sense." or Beetlejuice. Where there is an evil or scary feel to the haunting of a house or possession of a human host. There are as many sides to the equation as there are grains of sand within this desert.

I for one have always entertained the thought of angels... beautiful, protective, light, and loving.

I remember in the mists of my mind, of years long gone, as a child... wishing, praying, or simply day dreaming about angels. They were beautiful in my mind, cloaked in brilliant white rays of cleansing light, with fantastically airy fabrics of billowing white. Men and Women, alike, so beautiful and fair, of all colors and skin tones, all shades of hair and eyes. They would be surrounded by clouds so soft and welcoming I thought I could reach into a foggy night and almost touch one. A place of warmth, peace, and tranquillity. The perceptions held by that little girl no doubt delivered by countless hours in Catholic Mass, or CCD classes. Possibly from a bedtime story book, or an after school special movie long forgotten. Where ever the image came from, I , as an adult, in all my dreaming have held it close to my heart, even as a painting could never begin to capture its fullness of essence for me. A richness, a fullness of embodiment... my vision of what an angel might, could, or should possibly be.

I think I knew it, until I knew, what I knew, was wrong. OK, maybe not all wrong, but definitely not all right.

As an adult, I found angels, real angels. Lots of them. Disguised in plain clothing, hidden in familiar faces all around me. From the beginning of Dustin's tragedy to now, I have been very reflective on the people I have been blessed to know.

Some are angels for the moment or the minute...like the nurse who shows up just when you need her to, to tell you her story and give you the faith to carry on. How when she was 6 years old, just as old as my son, she too had 2nd degree burns down her arm, and how it healed in 2 weeks. And how she can barely see the scars today. An Angel with a gift...A simple story, a moment of time, a gallon of hope.

Some angels come for the day... like the paramedics, the firemen, the sheriffs, or even the neighbor that showed up with dinner that fateful day when the world stopped spinning if only for a moment. Angels that show up unexpectedly at the most critical moments of our need, ...there solely for us. They came and took the reigns when I no longer could. When parenting is not enough. And as quick as they came, they were gone... but what they brought to my house, to my son, to myself... These angels in the blink of an eye, brought needed strength in our time of weakness.

Some Angels come for the month... like the wonderful burn nurse, Mrs. Frances Williams, who neither talks down to us, nor pities us on our journey to recovery. How she encourages us, and praises us, when she knows how hard it is to have to hurt your child to clean a wound, for their own good. How she takes the time to give step by step instructions, and is equally gentle with Dustin's physical state as she is with our emotional states. She is an angel and we were put in the right place at the right time to have the blessing of her healing hands, and healing heart. An angel who dresses in smocks, and simply heals.

Some angels are here for a lifetime... like the beloved Aunt who shows up at the door to stay for the week because she could hear in my voice, over a telephone line, that I, while strong for everyone else, was truly weak and falling apart. A woman who saw a need, and dropped everything to address it. No money, no thanks needed. Just to be there. To help with laundry, meals, children, and dishes. Her life is crazy, her commitments are many, her need is great at home... and yet she is here with me. She shoulders my load, bares my burdens. My angel of sanity she brings on her wings a gift for me... a gift of much needed rest.

Some Angels are here for however long they are needed with no set times or limitations... like this amazing guy from work. Carl Baccus. A guy who just shows up, who is not smothering or imposing. He just is...there. There at the hospital when I had no idea how I was going to get home. Just there to call and vent to... just there to pop in to check on us. Just there to come by and say hello, if by telephone, instant message, or in person he just is there. A shoulder to lean on, an arm to hold you up. A badly needed pair of arms to just hug me. A battery of strength in which to glean from when I am running on beyond empty. He is my angel and his gift to me is a friendship, a gift of diversion, a gift of peace.

There are angels that surround us so numerous and vast that the sea of faces turns into a blur of lines and colors. And yet there are still more. Those angels that stand quietly, motionlessly, in the backgrounds of ones life. The ones that get little to no credit for the roles that they play. The ones that are faceless, and often nameless. Angels who donate their money, when they so do not need to, but just did unknowing that my need was great. How at the perfect time an angels card with $20 allows me to pay the co-pay I did not know how I was going to swing, to get Dusty to the burn center that week. Or co workers that collected money and gave it to me literally moments before already paid co pays from the ER were about to bounce in my account. One handed me the money and told me not to cry... I did anyway. How groceries were taken care those few days remaining before payday. How dressings, tapes, over the counter pain meds, and special burn creams were funded by the gifts of faceless angels. The weight it lifted from my shoulders. The blessings of scores of angels. They gave me money, but what it brought was more then what money can pay for. It was the gift of caring, support, and family...that I did not realize I had.

And so many more still. The angel who in the mist of this medical drama found out my washing machine broke, and who knew I had no vehicle to transport it to get it fixed... and came to dropped it off for me. The angels who offered up their washing machine so that Dustin could have fresh linens for his dressing changes. The angels who shared their burn stories with me to better allow me to cope and assist my son. The angels who called just to hear the tale and know that we were OK for themselves. The angels who sent Dustin care packages with things to do on his tummy while he recovered. The angels who cleaned their rooms and did their chores without being asked because they could see I was over my limit. The angels that I called, and who's heart broke along side mine... with me.

I have seen angels, I have know angels, I am surrounded by them every moment of my days. I thank my Lord for sending them, each one of them to me. For lifting me up, for carrying this family, for blessing my son. For the prayers, the support, the hope, the strength, the healing, the caring, the strength, the peace, the friendships, the diversions, for all the moments of knowing how truly loved and blessed we are. As well as for all the wonderful good things that have come from this is.

For all of our many angels... All I can say is... with the most sincere of heart... Thank You.