11:38 a.m. - 2006-06-27
Angels Unawares
There is an angel living in the carport of my office. She is maybe 5'6", ebony skin and eyes that will forever, after today, hold me spellbound. She's always been nice enough. Never asked for anything. Simply wished me a "blessed day" every morning as I stepped out of my car. At first I was uneasy with her. She has since become an integral part of my weekday. Last night, my heart broke. Could you hear it? It was my son's birthday and my two cousins, who we had not seen for some thirty decades, were coming to visit. The party was to be at a restaurant overlooking the city. The cloudcover seemed to part on cue and the view was as desired. My fiance sat by my side and I was proud to introduce him around. The only good choice in men that I have ever made. I felt healthy. Grown up. A couple. His twelve year old daughter sat across the table from him. My cousin Sharon next to me. My cousin Linda next to her. Then my mom, who is almost totally deaf. And, of course, my son William in the center of the long table. The conversation was effortless. Like old times. John's daughter, Natalia, started talking to me about her nemesis, Michelle. We have a running joke about people named "Michelle" being snooty and just all around bad. We often joke, calling someone "a Michelle". Sharon, joining in, said "Like Michelle Pfeiffer?". I said, "Yeah, even her." At that point, my finace said "I'd put up with HER." I was so sincerely shocked. He is not a "bartalk" guy, trading in stupid cliches. I looked at him with my mouth literally dropping. He continued the "joke", adding "Don't worry. I don't think I'll get the chance" (or something to that effect). It may sound inocuous. I may sound petty or immature or silly. I will no longer invalidate what I feel. It stung. It was so out of character, I was shocked as well as hurt. My cousin said something like "Looks like the wedding date may be changed". His daughter said "Bad, Dad." I felt humiliated. I felt small. I felt powerless. Useless. A fool. Annihilated. Boom. I got up to go to the rest room. I hid. I wanted to cry, but a tablefull of people not to mention the occasion prevented it. My eyes hurt. My everything hurt. Back at home, I dismissed John with a perfunctory kiss. The kind I offered before we were a couple. I was going to call a girlfriend after he left. I was going to email someone else. I didn't. I cried to my Father in heaven and He heard me. I fell asleep crying and woke up at intervals during the night, remembering afresh and feeling hot tears on my cheeks. This morning, I pulled into the parking lot at work. There was the homeless woman. She smiled and said hello. I said hello and continued on towards the door. She followed me, leaning in for a closer look. "Do you know who you look like?," she said. I stared at her. Somehow I knew. I knew that my Father was there, in the empty parking lot. "Michelle Pfeiffer," she said. I stared at her. Tears came. "I can't believe you said that," I told her. But I could. Somehow, as the moment had switched to slow motion, I knew I was only waiting for her to articulate the words I knew were coming. And I stood there in the parking lot, telling the homeless woman disjointed parts of my story in an attempt to let her know that she was His vessel of comfort, trying to let her know what it had meant to me. She was my confirmation that He is the God who sees me. The God who saw Leah, cast aside, rejected, feeling inferior and ugly. My personal Father and that I can trust Him to show up. I can safely cast my cares upon Him because He cares about me. Stammering, incredulous yet so, so certain of His presence, I told her, "God spoke those words through you." I know I am loved in a way I never completely knew before. I know that He keeps my tears in His bottle. I know that no matter how small and silly the pain, He is there with His tender mercies. I know first hand that there are angels unawares.
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