May you know the love of the angels, deep as the ocean, steadfast as the stars
   — Author unknown

When life upends our routines, we often feel as though we have lost our ability to be productive.  Our daily tasks seem lost in the hubbub of new demands; and it is easy to judge ourselves for not being attentive to our daily activities.  I have been feeling that way lately, as my sweetheart’s recuperation, my new job, and the beginning of our last school year as parents have distracted, demanded and challenged my time away.  It has been ten days since I made my last blog entry; and it is difficult not to judge myself for that after so many years of daily writing.  Before I begin today’s piece, I just want to remind you not to limit yourselves by the routines you establish.  That is not to say we should live at random and without purpose — rather it is to say that there is purpose to be lived in places we have not yet reached and not yet imagined.  Let us hold fast to our commitments, but let us also be willing to step outside the comfortable places we have built and know that there is adventure to be lived in places unknown.  Perhaps those new places will be the next portion of my life.  Perhaps I will find myself returning to this place I love when the winds have settled into a pleasant breeze once again.  What is important is not that the breeze is always gentle, but that we allow the wind to blow us away from the things we know now and then.  It is then that we discover — or remember — what is important.  This blog is important, because I believe it is vital for each of us to tell our story; but it is in the departure that we sometimes reaffirm the truths we long to share when we return.  It is good to stop by here today, because I have a story to share.

The last blog I wrote, ten days ago, was an expression of gratitude for the outpouring of love and prayers for my granddaughter, the amazing Cheyenne.  Chey had been ill and in the Childrens Hospital; and countless people came together to pray, to support, to love this child of my heart.  She is back on track again, and we continue to enjoy her exuberance, her sweetness, and her wisdom that goes far beyond her years.

Those who follow the daily quotations and photos I post to Facebook probably have noticed that the past week or so has been a tribute to angels.  There is a good reason — in fact there are so many good reasons for this — that I have come to share a remarkable story with you today.

When Chey was still in the hospital, waiting to come home, I heard from a friend.  This friend is someone who has been blessed and burdened with an intuitive ability to empathize and to heal.  She was calling to check on Cheyenne.  They had met when Chey was only a tiny little girl; and this dear woman has carried Cheyenne in her heart ever since.  She wanted to tell me that when she was doing her healing meditation and prayer, Cheyenne had appeared to her.  And she wanted me to know that my little granddaughter was surrounded by countless angels who were wrapping her in healing and light.  It hit me like a ton of bricks.  Here I was, worrying about what might happen and wondering about the outcomes, and all the while there were angels busy at watching, protecting, and healing in a dimension where worry has no place.  No week spent philosophizing about how many angels can dance on the head of a pin could have jolted me back to the awareness that we are always surrounded by beings who want to help, to assist, and to heal our humanness.

It is profoundly simple.  There is little else to say.  Within another day, Cheyenne was on her way home and back to living her not-so-ordinary life.  Without the sharing of my friend’s story, I might have thought we were very lucky to have the crisis end.  In the context of her willingness to share, I knew that luck was only a euphemism for something so powerful and so divine that we shield our eyes from it and duck away into our humanity rather than to look head-on into the work of God.  I have been very quiet these past ten days, because I have been thinking of the angels — of Cheyenne’s, and of my own, and of yours, too.  Never forget that they are with you.  Never lose sight of their presence.  Look to them and be thankful.  Feel their healing touch and be renewed.  Sometimes we need a major crisis in order to remember that we can look to our angels on the most ordinary days; so please remember them when life is smooth and peaceful, too.  When have the angels lifted you up?  When have they touched your heart in a way that has grabbed your attention?  Remember to share your stories with others, because we all need to be reminded from time to time that every one of us is loved — as deeply as the ocean, as steadfastly as the stars.  It was through the telling of her vision of Chey’s angels that my friend reminded me to appreciate my own.