Angels in Our Midst
February 15, 2023
“Sometimes in our lives
We all have pain
We all have sorrow”
There are some things we should not do alone, though we may not know better at the time.
In my experience, going to divorce court, solo, ending a 17-year marriage—the courtroom empty except for me and the judge, a woman, who after reading the settlement that I had written, me taking the majority of the financial debt while keeping belongings and two dogs, asked, “Are you sure you want this?” My reply, looking at the oversize red electronic clock measuring time, then back to her, “Yes.” That courtroom was filled with all the women who’d gone before me, and who accompanied me in spirit. It was packed.
That day in 2011, my friend Bonnie showed up afterwards at my home to give me a healing touch session, spinning my chakras back into alignment, as I emerged pummeled in the aftermath of a divorce, finalized.
Getting a biopsy of any kind. Don’t do that alone. I learned that in 2012.
I did the biopsy business alone again, in 2023. This time I let Bonnie know beforehand, she offered to drive me, come with me. I’d had an abnormal pap test, this was the next standard procedure or so I thought. I chose with my day of commitments to go alone. She’s just come through breast cancer, and we’ve shared ginger cardamom tea, cupped in hands curled up on her sofa, listening, talking, texts, healing touch, meditation, fierce prayers.
“But if we are wise
We know that there's always tomorrow”
After the biopsy, my doctor took the time to answer all my “what if” questions about the next step if the biopsy came back abnormal. It did. So now two weeks later, Bonnie remembers that tomorrow morning I go for another investigative procedure, this time a LEEP, to slice cells from the tip of my cervix, with a 36-48 hour wait to learn if its negative or abnormal. Her text pulsed a short bit ago, I’ve not yet replied since I’m in writing group this evening—I wonder if she felt me writing about her in a prompt a bit earlier, about earth angels. “Would you like healing touch, a ride?” is what I could see on the iPhone home screen to my left on the desk, without reaching for it, or swiping to open the phone.
Again, I’ll go solo, and see her afterwards for healing touch, to settle my energy, knowing she is carrying me in spirit, all along. When I tune-in and pray before going to slumber buried in flannel sheets and a down comforter, with a Labrador curled up pressed into my side, I feel the buoyancy of earth angels, and those magnificent invisible angels and guides and ancestors who show up bidden, and unbidden.
“Lean on me
When you're not strong
And I'll be your friend
I'll help you carry on...”
*song lyrics from Bill Withers, “Lean On Me”
(This writing was mostly written during my writing group 13-minute write the night before the LEEP procedure, and I shared it with the group as part of the process.)
Afterword PS:
During the very unpleasant LEEP procedure, I felt the prayers of my writing group with me, Bonnie, and a few other friends who I’d told. I was calling upon Spirit and my guardian angels to focus and calm my breathing, while needing to keep my body completely still as my heart raced from the numbing Novocain, and the doctor focused to do her procedure. I went to see Bonnie afterwards for healing touch, and it was exactly what I most needed. In the immediate recovery—three days of rest at home, no shoveling snow, or even a walk on the trail—I continued to reflect about how challenging it is for me to ask for help, and to receive.
At some young age, I learned that I needed to rely on myself, and not count on others. Taking that too far actually doesn’t serve me very well, or anyone, really. It’s isolating and can be a defense. I understand that many of us take that stance, consciously or unconsciously in life.
Throughout the weekend of resting, I promised myself that going forward, I would challenge my mindset and inner barriers around this belief that I have to go it alone. I made a trip to the grocery store to pick up supplies for the weekend. Slowly walking down an aisle, feeling a bit tender and woozy, two young people approached me. The boy reached toward me to hand me something and said, “This is for you, Happy Random Act of Kindness Day.” I looked at him puzzled and said, “What?” “Here,” he said, handing me a gift card. “This is a gift card for you—you can use it today for your shopping.” I said, “No, …” and was ready to continue with, “choose someone else who really needs this.” The young girl interrupted me, and looked me in the eyes. She said, “it’s Random Act of Kindness Day. We do this every year, and we want you to have this.” I took a deep breath and stopped. I smiled, looking into both of their eyes, unbidden tears rising. “Thank you,” I said simply. “Thank you.” They smiled, and walked on past me in the aisle. I stumbled out after paying for my groceries, drove home, and nestled in with all sorts of emotions bubbling in me.
Good news—my doctor called four days later with the pathology report to let me know all was clear. She’d successfully removed all the precancerous cells. The relief was palpable, and I quickly texted the great news to the small circle of friends who had checked in with me, and thanked them for their loving prayers and presence. As a precaution, I’ll need to get a pap exam once a year for the next three years, and my doctor is confident all will be well.
Growth mindset thoughts:
Don’t do big things alone (divorce court, biopsies, and fill in what else it is for you or what shows up unexpectedly)—it’s so much more comforting to have someone with you
Ladies, don’t skip your women’s wellness and pap exams—they can preempt compromised health, and more serious consequences
If like me, you’ve learned to be independent, and find it hard to ask for assistance (you don’t want to be a burden, worry others, or…) push back on your resistance to understand why you might be isolating yourself from connection, belonging, vulnerability, and risk. My new daily mantra this month, in my six weeks of healing, is, “I am open to receive my highest good, with delight.” I’m softening, and already there are a dozen plus unexpected happenings that I trust arrive to teach me and gift me with humble and delightful practice, full of wonder.
I send you blessings, in however you most need it.