God Sends Us Angels...

It was a beautiful sunny Louisville summer day in August of 2008, but my heart was dark, lonely and desolate.  I had spent the morning inside trying to hide the tears from my young children.  I sent them outside so they wouldn't hear the racking sobs that erupted from the very depth of my heart and soul.  (I could always blame the swollen eyes on allergies)  I was terrified; I was terrified we had made a terrible mistake moving back to Chris' hometown 5 months before.  Family dynamics were difficult; I was lonely in a way I had never felt before.  In this town of connections I felt connected to no one, and I was panic stricken I was losing connection with my husband.  I was trying to figure out how to make a trip back home before school started in the next few weeks.  I was desperate, truly desperate.  Early in the afternoon recognizing I still needed to be a mama, I stepped out onto the front porch to check on the children.

"Hey, Katherine!" I heard from a car that stopped suddenly in front of the house.  "So this is where ya'll live.  I'm so glad I figured it out."  My children looked back and forth from me standing on the porch to the bright bubbly woman in the car.  I came down the stairs and walked to the street.  "It's Hope, Carter's sister." Hope explained.  "Uncle Carter," I repeated to the children so they had some sort of context.  "How are ya'll?" Hope asked.  I had met Hope years before in New York when we visited and had kept up with her through Carter and Ingrid, but I didn't really know her so I hoped she wouldn't notice the red swollen eyes as I answered, "fine."  (As desperate as I was, I also knew regurgitating my issues to a practical stranger was probably not a good idea.)  "We'll have to get together sometime soon." Hope said.  "That would be great," I responded trying to disguise my doubt. I had heard those words from multiple people since moving back and yet we had only gotten together with one other family. (We love you Apples!) I prepared to turn around and go back into the house when I heard Hope say, "Hey Ingrid says you like to read too.  Want to go to my book club with me?"  I turned around and hesitantly said, "Sure, when?"  "Tonight--I can pick you up at 7.  It's a great group.  You'll love them."  "Well, I don't know that I'll have time to read the book, but what is it?"  "Count of Monte Cristo"  I tried to hold onto the fact that I was going to be around other women for a night (I knew Chris would get home to make sure I could go--he knew how sad I was) and not be intimidated by their choice of summer reading!

I went to book club that night and although I was intimidated, it was a wonderful group of women.  As Hope dropped me off late that evening she said, "I hope you'll join our group."  Over the next few years I sporadically attended the group (I started seminary and that made it hard) but every time I was there Hope made certain to include me in the conversation--to fill in the gaps of stories so that I was included.  She invited us to parties at her home and never rolled her eyes when I incessantly told people how we'd been connected since Chris was a 13 year old boy through her brother Carter.  She gracefully allowed me to perseverate about our connection; I needed to feel I had a connection in this connection obsessed city.

In the last few years we have seen each other more as our children now attend the same school.  Hope always greets me with a smile; we share a love (read obsession) for Ingrid and Carter's children, and our connection through Carter has blossomed into a friendship I treasure.  I still love that we are connected through Carter and Chris but I no longer feel the need to explain it to everyone we meet (sigh of relief from Hope I'm sure).  We have our own connection now--a connection of friendship, a connection that began because she stopped.

People touch our lives sometimes in ways they have no idea.  In her book No Ordinary Angel, Dr. Susan Garrett writes, "The word "angel" means "messenger."  In popular culture, angels often serve as messengers who bring healing truth.  They come to those who suffer from spiritual, psychological, or emotional blindness and cause the scales to fall from their eyes.  The angels open up a new way to view and move into the future."  Simply I believe angels are messengers from God and God's message is always one of love and hope.  And I believe many of the people who touch our lives are angels.  Hope stopped her car on the very day I needed her too. Life wasn't perfect; there were still hard days, but that day hope was born.  Hope brought the message of hope and love to me and touched my heart and soul.

On this her birthday, I want to say thank you to my angel Hope.  I know you are a blessing and gift to so many, I'm grateful I'm among them.  Thank you for being you; thank you for being an angel.

Who is your angel? Perhaps today is the day you should tell them....