So often we look for wondrous miracles, yet they often come like a whisper in the dark. If we are not listening we are totally unaware that a miracle took place. So it
came to me during a hospital stay a few months back.
I will not bore you with the circumstances of how I wound up in this
predicament or the exact nature of the problem. Needless to say, I was in
the deepest depths of human suffering, and the wonders of modern medicine
were like ropes which were far too short to reach the bottom of this dark well I had
falling into. On yet another of many sleepless nights, I lay
motionless, in an vain attempt to find relief in sleep. Eyes were shut, breathing
was at a minimum, and every nook and cranny of my conscious being was
consumed by personal suffering beyond any I have ever experienced (and pray
never to again).
Seeing no relief, I began to ask the unthinkable of whatever
benevolent being cared to listen.: "Why is it that when we find an
animal in great suffering, we will release it from this life in the name
of mercy and why was I undeserving of this simple act of mercy?"
This cry arose from a place within myself where only darkness and fear
reside. In this place no light could ever shine. Here I was truly alone, yet my cries for mercy went unheard, or so I thought...
Consumed by my personal slice of damnation, I had become lost in the netherworld between consciousness and the darkness of pain. Thus I was unaware of the encroachment of the night shift, which had entered my room.
I had been totally oblivious to the world around me until I felt
a fumbling on the back of my hand. It seemed a wrestling match between
the IV lock on my hand and the floor IV nurse had begun in the darkness
of the hospital room. As I reentered the world of awareness that lay outside
my own private damnation, I found myself party to a conversation that had begun around me. Though closed eyes I tried to remain still and put the pain out
of my mind by concentrating on the whispers going on around me.
The first voice said, "... Why don't you just turn on the overhead
light, It would be easier to see what you are doing."
"After all he has been though, I don't want to wake him...",
replied the second.
There was a little more movement on the back of my hand and then the
IV connection was made. I heard the sound of someone leaving. Then I felt
a soft touch on my shoulder. It was almost unnoticable, but at that point
the pain that imprisoned my soul began to subside, and sleep began to
cloud my mind like a cool night fog. The last thought I remember was,
'How do angels hide their wings under the uniform of a nurse?'
What had happened at that moment I do not know. Was it that
I had passed a critical point in my illness? Was medication finally able
to reach into the depths of my personal hell and pull me out? Or, was it
that in a simple act of kindness, a human touch possessed the purest form
of magic. A magic that can not be measured by instruments, bottled by the
pharmaceutical industry, or found in the realm of physical medicine. Had
this wonder found its way into my greater darkness with a soft healing
light?
The answer may be best left to scientists, priests, mystics, and
philosophers to deduce. Yet in my heart I felt the ever so light touch of
the greater mystery. For it is only through our heart that we can feel it. This
magic has many names like love, peace, and life-- but is much, much more.
It is the true magic, the greater hand of what many call God. Thereby the
messenger can only be of angelic temperament.
After this encounter I never heard the voice of my angelic nurse
again. Never to tell her of the great gift she had unknowingly bestowed upon me!
How funny it is to realize that if modern medicine had worked its chemical magic I
would have been deprived of this most beautiful of gifts -- the gift which
comes from the human soul and is given without thought.
It is part of our nature to reach out to others. We sometimes do it without
so much as a thought. Experiencing this gift from one heart to another
made me wonder how often gifts like this are given and received without the knowledge of either party. We are too busy to notice the acts of kindness that fall
like rain all around us.
There are also acts of kindness which arise from such a deep place in ourselves that we are unaware of them. There is something which underlines our existence,
a place most holy in nature. And the most wonderful part is that it continues
to spring forth without the need of conscious thought.
So many seek great expressions of the soul, spirit, angels, and
God that they miss the wonders that come from their own hearts. Since
these acts are but whispers in the loud crash of this chaotic existence
they can not be easily perceived. So many seek to become angelic after
this life, not understanding that there are those who have earned their
wings in this life. The greatest lesson here may be that if we look into
our inner closets we will find our own wings. Not in mothballs, for we
too perform many wonderful acts, but are unaware of them. Being too
wrapped up in the need to see direct cause and effect, we go though
life missing our own angelic acts. Maybe the full measure of a life can
only be judged after it has been played out before an cosmic audience.
In the search for angles maybe we also need to look for those
who have temporally removed their wings to improve the lives of others,
seeking this goal as part of the human race rather than outside it.
Maybe these wings do not have to be seen but rather to be felt. So to paraphrase
Oliver Hazard Perry's victory message,
Sometimes the greatest of life's lessons can come from the worst of
experiences, and so this is where I came to learn about angels with
detachable wings. Yes, detachable wings is what I said.
"We have met the angels.... and
they are within us."