At the airport, we checked his bag and hugged goodbye at the security check. I watched him until he put his belongings onto the conveyor belt. Then I dashed around the glass wall that was plastered with paper, so I could see him one last time before he disappeared down the stairs to the train. This was still a raw time for me, the beginning of the end of him living with me. I was getting upset because I couldn't find any spot not covered by that paper! By now he was surely putting all his things back together and in a few short steps, he'd be gone. Above me was a walkway that overlooked the stairs leading down to the train. Maybe I could see him from up there? But I had little time, and both escalators were going in the Down direction. The Up ones were too far away. So I began to run up the Down escalator.
I felt like crying. Partly because I was apparently in such horrible physical shape, and partly because the top was so close but each step towards it felt even heavier than the one before. Just 2 steps away from the top, an image flashed through my mind of angels weighing down my feet with more angels flocking in to help. Simultaneously, I ran out of strength. I stopped, turned around, and jogged down the escalator, ready to burst into tears, yet feeling curious.
Right at the base of the escalator was that glass wall, covered with paper. Except now I could see a 3-foot open space along the bottom. I squatted down and looked in. There, right beside the glass, was my son, putting together the last of his things and looking around for me. “Thank you angels,” I thought. When he spotted me kneeling there, looking up at him, he smiled. Such a dorky mom.
We waved good bye again, and I felt complete. As he headed out of sight, I sensed the angels celebrating. Maybe I am their test case? Meaning, if they can succeed at getting me to let them help me, they can succeed with anyone?
I'm still a bit of a skeptic, despite all the evidence the Universe has given me. Plus, I was alarmed at how fast and completely my legs had tired out. So the next day I ran up some stairs. Just to see. The angels thought that was pretty funny. My body took the opportunity to plead with me to do this more often. (Yes, I had plenty of strength and stamina.)
Angels, or Universe Helpers, do exist. They help as much as I allow. Yes angels, weigh my feet down when it's needed. Yes, I accept your help. Persist when I don't get it. High five each other when I do. I am certain that something unseen has been helping you, too. I don't really care if this help is from angels, principles of quantum physics, or projections from our own brains. It's help, and the results are good. The results are welcome. However we eventually come to understand it, I am working towards letting myself be helped more often. How about you?
© Vicki Nelson, Text and Photos. TrustingJoy.com. Share if you'd like.