When I was sick (that’s what I call the year-ish that I was dealing with my cancer), my Aunt Kris sent me this healing angel. She said the Angel would watch over me so that even when she wasn’t there with me I would know that she was there, and that there would always be people keeping me in their prayers. I kept it by my bedside during those rough days, and she’s still there to this day.
I don’t exactly know what I believe in religion-wise, but I do know that I appreciated the myriad of blessings and prayers I received from Catholics, Jews, Unitarians, Mormons, Methodists, atheists, agnostics and a bunch of other folks I barely even knew. I got healing rocks, shaman bags, prayer books, subliminal message tapes (yes, actual cassette tapes), flowers, religious blessings, cookies and casseroles, a puppy. Whatever you call it, I do believe in the power of love and good energy. And in my case it was healing energy. After battling for months and months, taking a few step forward and then a few steps back, there were days when I didn’t care if I lived or died, where I just didn’t have the strength or passion to fight anymore. And on those dark, bleak days, there was this…energy, like a spiritual lift that’s hard to describe but it was very real and tangible and forceful, like if you won’t do it, or can’t do it, we’ll make you.
We’ll help. Be strong. Be here.
And it worked. The Angel for me was the icon of that energy and when I didn’t have enough hope or strength or humor of my own, that little Angel helped me find more.
Several years later a girlfriend of mine lost her baby girl the day before she was due to have a c-section. The cord had wrapped around her neck and before they could do anything, the baby was gone before she ever had a chance. I struggled for days trying to find the right token of sympathy. Every card I read seemed trite, flowers seemed hollow. And then I saw the Angel and I knew she needed to be with my friend and her husband. The days ahead were going to be dark and difficult and they would need the strength, the virtual love and hugs of everyone who couldn’t always be right there with a shoulder to cry on or the right words of comfort. So I put her in a little box with my story and she went on with her journey of healing.
Six months later, I got a note from Amy thanking me for the Angel. She said that she would often go in her room and hold the Angel when things got tough. She would cry for her baby girl and then find the strength to go on (I’m happy to say they now have two beautiful children!). As much as she knew how important the Angel was to me, she had a friend who was dealing with her own trauma and wanted to know if she could pass the Angel on to help her through. Of course I said yes. I’m not sure where she ended up but I’m hopeful that the Angel is still on her journey of healing those in pain and need, reminding people that they are never alone and that they are stronger than they know.
Here we are 10 years later, and there have been a lot of Angels on my nightstand. I keep replacing her and then finding a new place where she’s needed. Tomorrow I am sending this little girl off to help a couple of friends, father and daughter, who are about to embark on a challenging time caring for wife and mother with a myriad of scary-sounding things – cancer, tumor, surgery, ICU, chemo. She’s about my age, and I can only imagine that she will need all the love and strength of the universe and all of us to get through this. And so will they. Sometimes I think being the caregiver is the hard part. At least when you’re sick, you get the good drugs! Anyway, Angel, work your magic. Aunt Kris, thank you for starting this chain-letter, pay-it-forward, sharing and caring Angel moment. You may never know how many lives you changed with that one thoughtful, loving gift.
And whatever name you want to put on it, this is my idea of religion.
I posted a new picture of Sloane on my Facebook account and several friends were like - oh, she's so cute! She looks just like you!
I think the answer is yes! There's a definite resemblance. I guess maybe that Chinese parable is true. Your family is connected by a red thread and it pulls at your heart strings until you are all together. 
The funny thing is that it doesn't really matter. Does she have my eyes, or Scott's laugh, or grandpa's toes. It sure makes it a little easier since we don't have to field a lot of awkward questions because our kids don't look dramatically different than us (we expect that to change when they're both like 8 feet tall but we're good for now!). And some days it's hard when you see your friends theorizing about whether their little boy has mom's eyes or dad's, or where their daughter got her laugh. Our conversations are a little different. Unlike a lot of adoptive parents, we're lucky to know who and where our babies came from so we can answer some of those questions but, in the end, these are our children, our family, our heart and soul and like it or not they'll inherit things from us that go beyond hair color and a laugh.
We decided head down to Huntington to pick up our race packets, have some dinner and a few drinks...you know, our version of pre-race carb loading. And we just happened upon a gorgeous SoCal sunset on the ocean. It was so lovely, and warm and inspirational. I think everyone should live on the beach. And carb load with cocktails.
I bought...well, a few dresses. One of which I now realize is a shirt. That should be worn with leggings or jeans. Especially when your legs look like mine. But at the time, the Diva-rita was kicking in and I was like, YEAH! I am going to ROCK this cute little dress. The Monday reality was, well, sobering.
