Of Angels and fortune

I am not sure if I believe in angels.
Well, not totally true. I think my daughter was one, here for only a short while to teach me about love.
But I think our generally accepted version of what an angel is, a clean, perfect entity, with a serene expression and calm demeanor, is more than a little off.
I do not believe Mother Theresa was an angel. Rather I think she was an incredible human being, one who saw angels for what they really are.
I think... no, I know… I had an encounter with an angel this past weekend.
You see, on the Friday prior to Copper Point’s 5th annual Feed The Town Christmas dinner (a free turkey dinner with all the trimmings for those less fortunate as well as everyone else, doubling as a food drive for the food bank), I actually sat down and had a proper and technical look at my finances.
Needless to say, it was not a pretty picture.
I am not sure just why I did not do the math earlier than that. Now on my own, a single mum, I should have had a more critical look at it all much earlier than I did.
But, woulda coulda shoulda, right?
The next two days I spent distraught, trying to figure out what I was going to do, tearful and afraid. Not a new story by any means. In our fair, idyllic valley, there are many families who are facing the same dilemma of how to pay the bills and feed the kids all out of the same static pot of money.
Sunday morning dawned, and I awoke with the thought that volunteering with Feed The Town would be a good way to take my mind of what I perceived as insurmountable problems.
And that is where I met my angel.
The role I filled, along with several other people at the event, was to make sure people had beverages, pie, and clear up after they were finished. I enjoy serving people, always have. Waitressing was always an enjoyable profession for me.
So what better way to fill a Sunday afternoon?
About mid-way through the day, I saw an older gentleman sitting by himself, dinner plate filled, but no beverage glass. So I went over, asked if he would like anything to drink, then brought over to him his requested glass of water.
I spoke to him briefly, about nothing in particular, and then went back to doing what I was there to do.
But every few minutes I would look back at him. And as I watched him from afar, I would see him looking around the room, savouring each bite of his meal, and now and then a gentle smile would cross his face.
He was dressed in clothes that were clean but well worn, and had about him the look of a man who did not have much in the way of family.
I was drawn to him.
As more people came in, and he was still alone at his table, I went over to talk to him and clear his plate.
It was a wonderful dinner, he told me.
I agreed.
Then he looked right at me and said, “This is so wonderful… this whole thing, the feeling… I don’t know just what to say.” His words were halted by an emotion I can only describe as a gladness at what he saw.
As he rose to leave, pushing carefully off the table and in obvious discomfort, he repeated what a wonderful event it was.
I opened my arms to hug him, smiled and said, “I know it is a little early, but Merry Christmas.”
He put his own arms out and I stepped forward. He held me in gentle embrace for a few moments, then stepped back and put his hands on my arms.
“Every day is Christmas for me,” he said. “Every morning that I can get out of bed is a blessing.”
He smiled at me, gave my arms a final squeeze, and walked slowly away.
I do not know his name, nor do I know if I will ever see him again.
But I felt tears sting my eyes as I cleared a few more plates, knowing I had just had an encounter I was not meant to take for granted.
I realized, in that one perfect moment, that my problems were not so bad. That all I had to do was find a way. I am strong and healthy, my boys are as well, I have friends and family that love me, and each day I can get out of bed without worrying if I can or not.
I can get another job if I need to, or drum up a little more photo business. I just have to find a way. That is the simple and plain truth.
A friend of mine told me recently that God does not give us anything we are not strong enough to deal with, and while I do not necessarily buy into any particular religion, I do believe in a higher power.
God has not put anything in front of me I cannot find a way to handle. I just needed to see that.
And to my great shame, I let myself wallow in self pity over what is nothing I cannot find some solution to.
I saw an angel Sunday, Nov. 30. One sent to remind me of my own strength, and to be thankful for all I do have.
With that in mind, I wish you all good days ahead, remind you to look for your own inner strength, and thank that man, my angel, for reminding me of a lesson I thought I had learned long ago.
God, the Goddess, Creator… however you choose to believe… believe. Or not. It is truly up to you.
But do, if you would please, believe in yourselves.
Blessed be.