Angels

I started to really believe in angels when my son was learning to crawl walk run jump...well, let's just say that during his very active baby-toddler-childhood years I'm certain there was some force beyond any of us mere mortals protecting him from harm. I used to joke {secretly really believe} that there were coffee table angels stationed in our living room. One at each corner of the table. Because somehow those corners and edges managed to miss the head of my flying/falling child every single time.

And then there was the freckle on my daughter's eyelid. As she was snuggled in bed each night, I would gently kiss her forehead. She'd close her eyes, and I'd tell her that her angels were kissing her special freckle. Her angels were gentle, protective and aware - just like she was. His angels were just...well...very busy.

As they grew, I wanted them to believe that they were a part of something much bigger than their little lives and our little world. I longed for them to know that they were connected. Never alone. Held dear and held on to by a presence, a force much greater than a mother or father's love. As they ventured off to school and into their own lives, I knew that as my eyes lost sight of them, they were still being watched over. I knew that, though bumps and bruises - both physical and emotional - would come, they were being guided and led far beyond any place that my dreams or vision could take them. And I absolutely knew that they were never, ever alone.

Last week I had a close call with something that really scared me. After I had calmed down I was flooded with memories of all the chats I'd had with those angels for years and years while raising my kids. Now that my nest is "empty" I don't seem to think about them as much as I once did. I certainly don't call on them with any regularity ~ just the occasional request to fly with and ahead of a certain driver that I love. Or to watch over air flights.

Truth is, I think it's just the vocabulary that's changed. My awareness of belonging to and being connected to a being, a force much greater than myself has only grown more certain, more powerful the older I get. And there's no shortage of gratitude in my heart and gratitude expressed for the simple blessings of every day....for the grand blessing of a guiding force. Now, I don't know if  "angels" have wings or how the one I call Father shows himself to you...but I know that this week I was reminded {yet again} to pay attention. To stay alert. To look for those millions of manifestations of that grace and power.

Because when my heart and my mind are open, it is then that I see.

Sharing thoughts from Project 52 week 7 here
and linking to Just Write here