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I haven't been here in a while and it's not for lack of stuff to post. There's always stuff. There's always complaints, a litany of them. Conversations gone awry, words overheard. There are things to revel in, too, like the Los Angeles sun in March and my children's curls. Sophie is plugging along on the new medication and I'm wondering whether her energy is the good kind, freed up from constant seizing, or the bad kind, a frantic side effect of the medication. Who the hell knows?
One never knows. I'm thinking about William Blake and Wallace Stevens. The poems about innocence and joy and the ones about the mind of winter and gubbinal.
On my way to eat Mexican tonight, I sat in one of the backseats and gave the ten year old Boy the coveted front seat (why do children love the front seat so much?). While sitting and gazing out the window, I listened as the boys shouted Audi, Audi, with their father, playing a silly car game with so much competition and exhilaration I'm stunned. Never was a cliche more apt than that of men and cars. Anyway, the phrase the persistence of angels came to mind and I jotted it down, quickly, in my notebook.
The persistence of angels.
I hate talk of "angels," actually. The silly, saccharine kind of talk. The wings and the religious, the titles on hundreds of self-help books, the weak attributions given to the dead. Call me cynical, but don't tell me about angels (except the majestic ones drawn by William Blake, see above). I had an essay published in "Spirituality and Health Magazine a while back. It was about angels, really, and I hesitated to even use the word. Did I use the word? I can't remember -- but what I do remember is that the magazine re-titled my piece "Listening to Angels." I hated that title with all its implications.
I'm so NOT an angel-person.
But still, the persistence of angels.
I'm thinking, mainly, of the two women who help me to care for Sophie. I am stressed of late on how much longer I'll be able to pay for them. Times are tough, as most people know. My husband has opened a new business. I'm no longer getting help from a certain source. I've borrowed from Peter to pay Paul and Peter has no more money. I've gotten a few ominous sounding letters from the California Regional Centers, warning of impending budget cuts. Respite funds will be severely impacted. I tell my friends that I need to look on help with Sophie as important as a utility. I wouldn't budget out electricity, would I? I feel a bit guilty about this, too. I'm aware that I'm incredibly fortunate to have any help at all. I tell myself that somewhere someone is caring for her own Sophie in a hut or maybe under a cardboard tent. By herself.
Back to the ange -- I mean women. They come into my house and lay their hands on The Girl and coo in her ear. They comb her hair gently and cradle her head when she seizes. They look her in the eye and laugh when she reaches her hand up to touch their faces. They love her. They save me -- gently, persistently.
The persistence of angels.
i really felt this post. and i know exactly what you mean about not being an 'angel person' BUT..the persistence of angels..this is something.
ReplyDeleteI keep hearing The Beatles song, "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away" running through my head...the line, "love will find a way"...
ReplyDeleteI don't know where I've been all this while, but I should have been reading your blog.
ReplyDeleteHappy Birthday to Sophie.
You are some kind of Angel with words that make me ponder the things that need pondering.
I don't like angels, either. Yet, Emmett seems to have found one in his occupational therapist. Go figure.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you're back. I was starting to worry.
They sound like angels to me - at least the kind I believe in - I'm with you there!!!
ReplyDeleteDon't you for one minute feel guilty for getting some much needed relief. I'm guessing you need more. I can feel that knot in your chest of fear that you will loose that little piece of peace you get hon!!! Huge hugs, Sarah
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angel
ReplyDeleteAngels are actually serious business! *haha!* Not cute little cartoon faries with white wings! They are Elohim in judaism, and the names of christian angels end in "EL" to refer to that...Michael, Raphael, Uriel and Gabriel...for a start...I like to think of "angels" as ambassadors to the Divine, you know, each one has its 'specialty area'...Raphael, the healer, for instance.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raphael_(angel)
Just trivia.
* ; )
I can SEE them through your description - The angels you describe are as towering and fierce and protective as they are gentle. That's an angel. That's Love.
ReplyDeleteI have felt this way about the trite descriptions of angels, too. When I lived in the hospital and got to know the nurses who cared for Katie and all of the other kids, I came to believe that nurses are angels, but not the fairy-tale kind.
ReplyDeleteLife is like this, not always rosy but full of a mixture of hope and doubt. hope usually wins though and brings with it help from angels of all types.
ReplyDeleteFor other stories of angels and pictures of them visit http://heatherangelsrus.blogspot.com
It strikes me with the state's actions in terms of care that there is always an element of misogyny. What is my time or your time worth? A lot, I think. Threatening us with withdrawal of respite care is such a low blow: these people rarely give thought to how to support a society from the ground level up. 'Cuz that's where many of us women are--on the ground level.
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful. I don't know what to say, but i just wanted to tell you that this made me cry. I don't necessarily believe in angels either, but it's hard not to sometimes when you need them, and they appear.
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