Living

Mondays with Mom: Angels

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Mom and Dad have a very deep faith. Even as Mom’s dementia has taken her further from our “reality, “ it has brought her closer to heaven’s reality. Even now, as I sit at the table, she’s talking to beings only she can see. Her eyes are open and she’s smiling at her angels. Her words are kind and happy although somewhat unintelligible to me. Occasionally she will laugh and even giggle.

When my niece, Kelsey, was a baby, she would laugh and coo at a corner of the room where her changing table was set. She didn’t mind diaper changes at all. I’d never seen this unusual behavior in a baby before and we were convinced that she was still conversing with the angels. I know God knit her together in her mother’s womb (Psalm 139:13), but it makes sense, too, that she delighted in seeing angels before she saw her mother and father. William Wordsworth wrote his view of our connection to heaven in his poem, “Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood.” Here is a portion of the poem:

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star,
        Hath had elsewhere its setting,
          And cometh from afar:
        Not in entire forgetfulness,
        And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
        From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
        Upon the growing Boy,
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,
        He sees it in his joy;
The Youth, who daily farther from the east
    Must travel, still is Nature’s priest,
      And by the vision splendid
      Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day.

It is sad that we lose our splendid vision and fade into the light of common day.

Here, at the end of Mom’s life, I know that the angels and splendid visions are calling to her again. I have written a Mondays with Mom about Mom’s dreams. This is different. The moments she’s now experiencing are with open eyes and she’s not using names while speaking to them.

I do not doubt for one moment that true angels, heavenly beings, interact with us here on earth. I believe they arrive seen and unseen in all parts of our lives. One of my favorite magazines is Guideposts with its regular features on angels and God’s mysterious ways of connecting with humans. I love to read the stories of truly miraculous occurrences in the daily lives of those who have written. I am also amazed at the number of times regular humans are used in angelic ways to minister to other humans.

As much as I hate to admit it, many days I don’t recognize the angels around me. I know intellectually that I am constantly protected and ministered to by angels. Often I wade through an entire day without realizing how many moments I was blessed or protected from unseen dangers, toils, and snares.

I travel a great deal: to and from Mom’s house, theater or chorus gigs that take me far from home, and church and choir responsibilities. At any moment, I know my life could dramatically change. None of us are given another moment. As I look around with my heart, I see angels’ wings everywhere I go. The women who care for Mom have certainly been special angels to me and Dad. Friends and family who encourage me with words and lift me in their prayers are also human angels.

I’d love to decipher what Mom is discussing with her angels. Until God gives me an understanding, I’ll just be grateful they are here to keep her company and make her laugh.

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