David Wolfe – understand this is not me talking to David:
Angels Among Us
Driving home in the darkness of night, the hospital growing smaller in the distance, its presence beginning to lessen from my every thought. The over-bright lights, the smell of over-sterilization, the long, slow, hopelessness yet hopeful pain upon every patient’s face, the emptiness of the un-sat chairs next to each patient’s bed began to ebb – just a little.
My mind was full, I had been praying. I had been praying by my mother’s bedside. I had been praying and crying. Have you ever prayed? Have you ever prayed for hours without moving? Have you ever begged God for anything? Bring my mother back, God. Please, God.
Have you ever tried to bargain with God? I haven’t finished learning from her yet, she could still help me if you would only heal her. Please God, place your healing hands on her and bring her back. I had to make God understand. For God, just didn’t understand, or He wouldn’t have let another stroke happen to her.
Sincerity prevailing in my stillness. I would barely move in the chair next to the hospital bed. Time didn’t exist any longer, for time becomes abstract in a hospital. Its purpose of meting out tasks, appointments, and meeting deadlines – punctuality – loses its purpose something far stronger takes control, takes over, and dominates everything. Illness has no clock. Sickness does not measure time.
When you are in a hospital either as a patient or a visitor you are at the mercy of the doctors and nurses. They set the pace, the mood, they create your experience. However, it may be.
Sometimes I could see it on their face, the arrogance of the know-it-all education that had not yet been humbled with the humility of personal experience before they ever spoke to me. Other times, some would go out of their way to let me know they understood, that leaving just wasn’t an option for me.
Light, light. Streetlight, streetlight. Stoplight. Street sign. Street sign. I just about had it all memorized. The route to and from the hospital. My mind so full I wanted to unplug it and throw it as far as I could. Light. Light. Streetlight. Stop sign. Signal. Look left then right. Gas. Brake. Complete disconnect. Complete Auto-pilot driving. Left-turn signal, 2, 3, 4, I could almost count how long the light would take to turn without thinking about it. Right turn, slow, then stop. Street light. Street light.
In the middle of nowhere. In the absence of street lights. I saw him. He appeared. Sure, as I see you. Sure, as I see myself. Sure, as I saw the doctors and nurses. Sure, as I see the world – there he was. In the middle of nowhere walking down the road going the opposite direction.
What is he doing here?
What? Why?
Why is he walking down the street?
There was an unusualness about him that made me take notice of him.
It was dark.
It was nighttime.
Yet, all around him was bright as if he himself was illuminated, as if he was his own flashlight. It was not directional; the light was not pointed in any direction. It was feet and feet in front, behind, beside and all around him bright like a color I’ve never seen before. A most brilliant white of pure whiteness that almost had to be subdued in a blueish cast. His skin, his hair, were white. But, not just white, they were brilliant. He had brilliance all around him. Diamonds. He had diamonds in his ears that I could see as I was driving by with faceted clarity. He was spectacular. He was magnificent. I have never before nor since seen anything like him.
But, in that moment of audacious magnificence, I was not overcome, I did not steer off the road, I did not swear or exclaim, I didn’t even utter a sound. There was a realness about him, a quality that was undeniable, and sublime.
Passing by him, I drove home. My mind still full, sadness, worry, concern, anger, hurt, and mad at God for not listening.
Yet, why did I see him, who and what was he? Anything? Did I dream him up? Did I make it up?
I mean, I may have been praying myself sick in the hospital, and yes, I do believe in God, been baptized, the whole nine yards but, come on, did I actually think I just saw an Angel?
We always went to church as a family. I’ve read the bible and memorized bible verses, I’ve been to Sunday School, church camp groups, listened to sermons, sang the hymns, sang in the choir, taken communion, given tithes, prayed for others, donated to charities, prayed for my own salvation, as well as, the salvation of others, but I mean, come on?! I live in the real world. Where people hurt each other every day just because they can.
An Angel?!
I am still uncertain as to why I saw him, yet I believe I was meant to see him.
Was it a sign of hope? Was it a sign at all? Was it God’s way of saying, I’m here?
I’ve had my doubts over the years as to the authenticity of the man I saw.
Yet, I saw him still the same.
Cherith J Gjestland
WE - DO NOT AGREE! 