Guardian Angels
“You’re
a guardian angel sent by God.” Those were the last words he said to me as he
rushed off to the information desk.
It was a kind compliment but do you believe in guardian angels? Do I believe in guardian angels?
The short answer is yes, I do. The longer answer is a bit more theological. I believe we are here to be the hands and feet of God on Earth. As my colleague, the Rev. Tom Owen-Towle, calls those of us in the Unitarian Universalist community, we are “Free thinking mystics with hands.” The hands are the part of us that is sent to do the work of God or the Spirit or whatever you choose to call that mystical presences that calls us to act for others.
When I used to work in the addictions treatment center, I was introduced to a phrase that appealed to me – Odd or God? Is it Odd that you met that person who took you to your first AA meeting on the very day that you realized that you had hit rock bottom? Or was that God at work? The thing I liked most about this concept is that the answer to THAT question, Odd or God, wasn’t the most important answer. The most important answer was “How did you respond to that moment?” For some people in early recovery, the concept of God is too boxed in, so narrowly defined by certain dogmas that God is not alive for some. The concept of Odd or God opened the door to appreciating the opportunity without getting bogged down in theology.
So, Odd or God? Coincidence or Kismet? Here’s how it happened.
I had an appointment at the hospital Wednesday morning to disconnect the pump from my chemo infusion that started on Monday. I was also supposed to get some fluids to help with the side effects so, instead of a 10:30 appointment, I had a 9:30 appointment. That meant that, instead of having two hours after dropping the kids off at school, I had one hour. Instead of trying to fit something into my morning, I just decided to drive to the hospital early, relax amidst the end of rush hour traffic, and maybe get some breakfast in the hospital cafeteria. I arrived at the hospital around 8:30.
After I parked, I walked to the hospital from the garage and, as I approached the entrance, there was a man there asking another man, “Do you know how I can get to the PICU?”
Having worked at the hospital, I am familiar with the units and the whole medical campus. And the man he was asking simply apologized for not being familiar. Still, I wasn’t sure he was at the right place so I asked him, “What does the P stand for?”
“Pediatric Intensive Care Unit,” he replied.
“I think you want to be at Children’s Hospital,” I said.
He was flustered and probably stressed. He was carrying a stack of folders that I assumed were medical records. “Yes,” he said. “That’s where I’m supposed to be. Am I not there?”
“No,” I answered, “That’s Children’s over there. The building with the logo of a child holding several balloons.”
He looked across the campus in dismay. “Oh, I can’t believe I’m not even at the right building.”
He wasn’t that far away, maybe a ten minute walk to the next large hospital building over from the UCHealth outpatient building where we were standing. Still, he was clearly flustered and stressed and, between here and there, there were enough choices of sidewalks, parking lots, and entrances, that I said, “You know, I’m an hour early for my appointment. I’ll walk you over there.”
Along the way, I showed him where the parking garage was where he had parked so that he wouldn’t have to take this circuitous route back to his car rather than the straight line available to him. He kept berating himself for his mistake, especially when he saw the Children’s Hospital signs. I assured him that, while it may seem really obvious now, the campus is large and sprawling and not so easy to navigate when you’re stressed and driving in your car looking for signs.
He said that he was here to see his 16 year old daughter who had been transferred here from another regional hospital. I took a chance and asked, “What is she here for, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Not at all,” he said. “Thank you for asking.” And then he told me her story. In short, complications from treatment for lymphoma. I offered him the assurances that I could for the treatments she is receiving while acknowledging his concerns as well.
As we approached the entrance to the hospital, I pointed him in the direction of the information desk where he could find out exactly how to get to the PICU. We hadn’t exchanged names yet so he stopped and said, “My name is Michael. Thanks for your help. I don’t think I could have figured this out this morning.”
“You’re welcome. My name is Todd. Good luck to you and God bless you.”
“I’ve already been blessed,” he said. “You’re a guardian angel sent by God.” Then, he quickly turned toward the information desk, anxious to find his daughter.
We are all Guardian Angels. Whether you’re a theist who believes God put you in a certain place, or a theist who believes that God doesn’t move us around like chess pieces but we are here to be of service to others and be God’s hands and feet in the world, or a humanist who believes that – whether we seek out the circumstances or note when the circumstance arises - it is our duty to serve each other, we all have the opportunity to be a blessing.
Don’t sell yourself short. I was an hour early. This required no great sacrifice on my part. But, to Michael, I was God’s blessing on this day.
Odd or God? I say, “God.” But the real question is “How did you respond?”
Be a blessing.
It was a kind compliment but do you believe in guardian angels? Do I believe in guardian angels?
The short answer is yes, I do. The longer answer is a bit more theological. I believe we are here to be the hands and feet of God on Earth. As my colleague, the Rev. Tom Owen-Towle, calls those of us in the Unitarian Universalist community, we are “Free thinking mystics with hands.” The hands are the part of us that is sent to do the work of God or the Spirit or whatever you choose to call that mystical presences that calls us to act for others.
When I used to work in the addictions treatment center, I was introduced to a phrase that appealed to me – Odd or God? Is it Odd that you met that person who took you to your first AA meeting on the very day that you realized that you had hit rock bottom? Or was that God at work? The thing I liked most about this concept is that the answer to THAT question, Odd or God, wasn’t the most important answer. The most important answer was “How did you respond to that moment?” For some people in early recovery, the concept of God is too boxed in, so narrowly defined by certain dogmas that God is not alive for some. The concept of Odd or God opened the door to appreciating the opportunity without getting bogged down in theology.
So, Odd or God? Coincidence or Kismet? Here’s how it happened.
I had an appointment at the hospital Wednesday morning to disconnect the pump from my chemo infusion that started on Monday. I was also supposed to get some fluids to help with the side effects so, instead of a 10:30 appointment, I had a 9:30 appointment. That meant that, instead of having two hours after dropping the kids off at school, I had one hour. Instead of trying to fit something into my morning, I just decided to drive to the hospital early, relax amidst the end of rush hour traffic, and maybe get some breakfast in the hospital cafeteria. I arrived at the hospital around 8:30.
After I parked, I walked to the hospital from the garage and, as I approached the entrance, there was a man there asking another man, “Do you know how I can get to the PICU?”
Having worked at the hospital, I am familiar with the units and the whole medical campus. And the man he was asking simply apologized for not being familiar. Still, I wasn’t sure he was at the right place so I asked him, “What does the P stand for?”
“Pediatric Intensive Care Unit,” he replied.
“I think you want to be at Children’s Hospital,” I said.
He was flustered and probably stressed. He was carrying a stack of folders that I assumed were medical records. “Yes,” he said. “That’s where I’m supposed to be. Am I not there?”
“No,” I answered, “That’s Children’s over there. The building with the logo of a child holding several balloons.”
He looked across the campus in dismay. “Oh, I can’t believe I’m not even at the right building.”
He wasn’t that far away, maybe a ten minute walk to the next large hospital building over from the UCHealth outpatient building where we were standing. Still, he was clearly flustered and stressed and, between here and there, there were enough choices of sidewalks, parking lots, and entrances, that I said, “You know, I’m an hour early for my appointment. I’ll walk you over there.”
Along the way, I showed him where the parking garage was where he had parked so that he wouldn’t have to take this circuitous route back to his car rather than the straight line available to him. He kept berating himself for his mistake, especially when he saw the Children’s Hospital signs. I assured him that, while it may seem really obvious now, the campus is large and sprawling and not so easy to navigate when you’re stressed and driving in your car looking for signs.
He said that he was here to see his 16 year old daughter who had been transferred here from another regional hospital. I took a chance and asked, “What is she here for, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Not at all,” he said. “Thank you for asking.” And then he told me her story. In short, complications from treatment for lymphoma. I offered him the assurances that I could for the treatments she is receiving while acknowledging his concerns as well.
As we approached the entrance to the hospital, I pointed him in the direction of the information desk where he could find out exactly how to get to the PICU. We hadn’t exchanged names yet so he stopped and said, “My name is Michael. Thanks for your help. I don’t think I could have figured this out this morning.”
“You’re welcome. My name is Todd. Good luck to you and God bless you.”
“I’ve already been blessed,” he said. “You’re a guardian angel sent by God.” Then, he quickly turned toward the information desk, anxious to find his daughter.
We are all Guardian Angels. Whether you’re a theist who believes God put you in a certain place, or a theist who believes that God doesn’t move us around like chess pieces but we are here to be of service to others and be God’s hands and feet in the world, or a humanist who believes that – whether we seek out the circumstances or note when the circumstance arises - it is our duty to serve each other, we all have the opportunity to be a blessing.
Don’t sell yourself short. I was an hour early. This required no great sacrifice on my part. But, to Michael, I was God’s blessing on this day.
Odd or God? I say, “God.” But the real question is “How did you respond?”
Be a blessing.
Love this! :)
ReplyDeleteThe first time i flew alone, i was very nervous and lost. I happened to be sat beside a little elderly lady in polka dots who talked me through and calmed me down. When I stood up to exit at the end of our flight, I realized I'd been seated in the wrong row the entire flight. :)
Thank you Todd. My mother always had an expression she used when she encountered an "odd or God" situation. She would always chalk it up as being a "Godwink." Her way of acknowledging mystery and our own participation "hands" at work. :)
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