Random Acts of "Kindness"

Posts tagged ‘Angels’

SHIRTS

Finally, after months, weeks, days of cloudy, chilly weather — a sunny weekend was forecast. My husband and I plus dog –” Robin”, planned to go to the camper. Our son planned to come out on Saturday. My cell phone rang Friday night. My son was very upset. I had taken his NEW shirts, seven in all to be dry cleaned. We have an old house — over a hundred years and the water is leaving a residue on our clothes when they are washed. Our son DID NOT want to wear spotted shirts on his new role.

On Tuesday, I had taken seven shirts to be dry cleaned. He stopped to pick them up on Thursday but they weren’t ready. We left for the Camper Friday morning. Friday evening the dry cleaner still didn’t have his shirts. To say that our son was angry would be an understatement. Not only did he not have his shirts — they were brand new. He would have to BUY MORE! Plans for the camper were CANCELLED!

Saturday morning the cleaner found his shirts. They had been there all the time, just were miss filed. But it was already late in the day. He was still going to stay home.

Saturday afternoon, Robin heard a noise behind a folding table in our room addition. She barked and scratched and raised such a fuss I asked my husband to pull the table away from the wall so she could investigate. NOTHING WAS THERE! He took her outside so she could inspect that too. They didn’t find anything. All day Saturday, Robin was camped out under the table. Waiting, watching, listening — BARKING, SCRATCHING. Making a ruckus.

Saturday night — Robin didn’t find anything, but she was DETERMINED — she was protecting us! She stayed on guard to capture it. She didn’t stay on guard quietly. My husband locked her in the camper part of the trailer. Instead of resting, going to sleep, it made it worse. ALL NIGHT — the barking, scratching continued. FIVE in the morning, I gave up, stayed up. Got dressed. Robin and I went for a walk. My husband laid down for a nap. I kept Robin outside until almost 10. We went for a long walk, we went for a drive. I had coffee with friends — we went to visit other friends. Every few hours I returned and left a note as to where we were going next. My husband got a few hours of sleep. Sunday afternoon I laid down for a nap. I was VERY GLAD our son had stayed home.

Sunday evening, at dusk — I saw a round, low to the ground being waddle across our lot. It was very round — tan and white. My husband thought it was a possum with babies in her pouch. I hoped it was leaving in search of a new, quiet home. Sunday night we got a quiet nights sleep. Robin was still alert, on guard but she also was tired. Ready for SLEEP, helped by an allergy pill.

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THE VISITOR

I love to hear stories. Especially if they are real. Especially if they have feel good themes. Our world is so negative at the moment, our weather is so snowy and cold — not Spring, that stories that have a good theme or outcome are lovely.

I have two to share. The first concerns a visitor — a spirit — a person from the other side. His passing was a surprise. He was in his 80’s and his health was a challenge. In fact, he was in the hospital when he passed. His condition had improved, he was walking by himself with his walker. He was scheduled to be released the next day. His wife had gone home to shower. With his walker, he went to the bathroom, and upon exiting, he fell, hit his head and passed over.

Of course, his wife felt VERY BAD. She had been with him for the past few days. Walking with him when he got out of bed. Because he had improved, she took the opportunity to go home. Because she wasn’t with him, he also took the opportunity to go HOME.

Of course there were many questions about that accident and they are considering a lawsuit. Meanwhile the wife is puzzled by his fall. Why did he fall? He had his walker, he was scheduled to go home. WHY? The questions continued.

A couple of months passed. She was considering selling their home, moving in with a daughter. She also had aged and her health wasn’t that good. She was sitting in the chair in her bedroom when the scent of Irish Spring soap filled the room. Her husband ALWAYS used that soap.

She called his name. Then asked what happened? “What caused you to fall?” AND SHE RECEIVED HIS ANSWER. (I didn’t ask if she “heard” it or if the answer came into her mind.) He said that his robe got caught under the wheel of the walker and he fell backwards, hitting his head. I didn’t think of asking if they had a longer conversation. I did tell her that often the person who is passing takes advantage of the opportunity when their loved one isn’t there.

It would have been easier to use their names in the story. I know her well and decided to protect their privacy. Writing about her experience has provoked a few questions. I want to hear more of the story.

The second story is also an answer to a question. My daughter was driving and was puzzled about a story she was writing. There was a problem and she couldn’t think of the solution. While her mind was occupied by the traffic, the solution to the writing problem flashed in her mind. She thought I would enjoy her story.

I have mentioned that I often send questions up — and receive the answer. It doesn’t matter if the answer flashes in my mind, or is heard from another person or on the radio or television.

IRISH MORNING

I have to admit that I have never been to Ireland. I don’t know if the opportunity to visit will ever come. My mother’s father was from there. I have finally learned the county that he was from but since I don’t know his birthdate or any other pertinent information, and his last name was very common — I’m not trying to learn anything more. I’ve titled this thought ramble Irish Morning not because the day reminded me of Ireland but because I was having lunch with a dear friend. She is not only Irish but she came from across the water. For years she lived on my block, went to Mass with us on Sunday. But time passes and our bodies reflect the passing. She had trouble walking up and down the stairs in her house. She moved to a Catholic senior residence. Even though she is on the third floor, they have elevators.

She phoned a few days ago and invited me for lunch. Of course, I accepted immediately. Then she fell, and we postponed the date. Then the snow fell on rain drenched stairs and I didn’t like the crunch as I swept the stairs. And we postponed it again. The day finally came, cold but with sunshine — blue skies. If I gave serious thought to the meeting, I wouldn’t have arrived empty handed. Ooops!

Her residence has many opportunities for a person to stay busy. I passed a room where art work decorated the window. I recognized the name of a friend and stopped to take a photo. A woman passed by with her son and asked if that artwork was mine. I admitted that it was a friend’s, I wasn’t a resident. She had recently moved in and was having trouble adjusting. I had to share a story of my recent painting experience and a photo of the finished art work. She didn’t paint or draw. She used to sing but has lost her voice. I suggested she just sing to herself inside her head. She was on her way to therapy. I was navigating the halls, looking for the building were my friend’s apartment was.

SUCCESS! We had a pleasant visit but more snow and rain was in the forecast. I really didn’t want to get stuck out in the weather. I learned that she had had a stroke a couple of years before. Somehow I missed that information. Her son used to live on our block and shared information about his mother. He rented their house a couple of years back, and moved to an apartment. I no longer receive current news. She is doing well now — in her late 90’s. Not bothered by the aftermath of her fall.

Going back down I shared the elevator with a woman who had a lovely accent. When I asked, she admitted she was from Ireland. Walking down the hall with her, I voiced the question of a bathroom. Two gentlemen going in the opposite direction pointed to a sign on the wall. I told my companion that I’ve noticed that when I ask a question, I often get an immediate answer. I wondered if the same thing happened to her.

Leaving — I met the same woman I saw when I first arrived. She hadn’t slept well the night before and was heading to her apartment for a nap before supper. I mentioned that it must be hard, giving up her house, her car and living in a new place. There were people there from her parish but the friendship is just starting.

HEADACHE

Our grandchildren were in the backseat of our car as we headed to church on Sunday. They must have had too much sugar because they were full of spirit. So much so that I got a headache. At church service — the sung songs were accompanied by drums and guitar, than a big bongo set of drums. My head DID NOT LIKE the drumbeat. I exited the area and went out into the great space. I noticed the trays for communion were being assembled and re-entered the main church area. After communion, the next song was announced. I LOVE to sing it, but it is high energy and my head was providing its own drum beat. Once again I exited.

A young, tall male came out into the space. He did not look well. It was very apparent that something was wrong. He stayed by himself in one of the corners for awhile. When he was ready to rejoin the assembly in church, he passed by where I was sitting. I remarked that I could tell he was upset. He confided that it was the anniversary of a friend who had passed. I shared the story of chia tea. I was making a new batch on the anniversary of my father’s passing, when I noticed a magazine article detailing the benefits of the spices used in the brew. I mentioned that his friend was in a better place but could still interact with him if he was observant. I had just made another batch of chia tea on my son’s birthday. Often I’m rather slow to notice things. Later in the day I realized that even though my father passed over in 1995, he was still taking care of his family.

Monday, I was watching a channel on PBS. I wanted to watch another station and asked my daughter’s remote to change the channel. It is a marvelous piece of equipment — when it works. THIS TIME IT DIDN’T! I tried four times before giving up. PBS was having a membership drive. Over the past few days, I had watched two different programs on health — the benefits of vegetarian cuisine. Monday’s program was by Dr. Mark Hyman. His plan was not as limited, combining both meat and vegetarian food. Since my body seems to NEED meat, I was interested. The program was followed by “The Coast Of Ireland” — seals, whales and puffins.

It probably will come as no surprise when I mention that Costco had Dr. Mark Hyman’s book “Food, What the Heck should I eat?” when I visited the store. It is also no surprise when I say that I bought a copy.

FOYER

I thought I remembered having a French easel. I thought I had stored it in the foyer. Lots of stuff is stored in the foyer. In order to find the easel, I had to remove a lot of stuff. The easiest place to start was with our coats. Now I’ll admit that most of our coats how hung out with us for more than a year or two. In fact, I found our youngest daughter’s high school jacket. She really liked that coat and wanted it back. No problem — I wasn’t going to donate it anyway.

I found winter gear from when I used to cross country ski. Lets not talk about how many years ago that was. Will I get my skies out again and go out and play in the snow? Doubtful but you never know. What I do know for sure is that it would be a minor miracle if I could get my body into the outfit. Donated!

I would love to say that I had a huge pile of coats to donate but I try not to lie. When I wear a coat that belonged to one of my daughters it is as they are giving me a hug. All the coats were hung up and I still have more stuff on the floor to investigate.

I found my French easel along with four bags of stuff and a box full of painting brushes and paints. One of the bags held books that contained photos of many of my paintings. A gentle reminder that once upon a time, I was able to paint. One of the bags held a lot of my beading supplies as well as 7 magazines. No wonder I couldn’t find my pliers. They were all together hanging out. I looked through the assortment of beads and stuff. At this point and time I have no idea what I had planned to do. I have no idea how long that bag lay hidden — waiting for me to find it. I looked inside the box. It contains many brushes and some oil paint. It would be a good box to travel with. It has a compartment for the board canvases. I still have 2 bags and the French easel to investigate.

I remembered a field easel that I had at the camper and wondered if I could get one for home. It is light weight and easy to move from one place to another. I don’t have a craft room at our house. My craft room and office is usually the dining room table. I didn’t want to have a painting camping out on it.

Saturday I went to an art show. A friend of ours was invited to show his wire sculpture. It was PACKED! I wandered through the room twice before I found our friend. And then, it was only because I asked for directions. I took advantage of the opportunity and spoke to many of the artists. I recognized some of the techniques that I have seen demonstrated on public television.

Yesterday we went shopping. As I stood in line at Wal-Mart, I noticed a natural red haired woman waiting ahead of me. I admired an Easter cross she was buying. “Its for the cemetery,” she said. I replied that my family’s bones might be there, but they weren’t. “Where are they?” she asked. “Right here” I replied. She shared that her brother in law was always around when she bakes. Her brother in law’s sign is a cardinal, her husband a robin. Both accompanied her when she had her cataracts removed. I think of aunt Connie when I see or hear a cardinal.

REPRIEVED

When I wrote my first book: “To Pap, With Love” — I had high hopes. I thought I would sell many copies myself. I applied for an Illinois Sales Tax number, so that I would be legal, and able to report my income. I hate to admit that I was mistaken. Since the book was of limited interest, the sales were also limited. I have learned that it has helped many people and has a life of its own, moving from place to place. It is still available on line. As is my second book, “Journey With Me.” Although of wider interest, it didn’t generate income.

For over five years I have filled out the State Sales tax form. Some years I have had no problems. Other years, a phone call was needed. I was happy last year when I noticed the number was expiring. Then I received a new license. It was renewed! WHY? I’m not making any money, no sales to report, no tax to share. I wrote another reminder and put it in my calendar.

The first week of January, I went on line to fill out the form. I had limited success. I found the correct form. But I was unsuccessful in filling it out. Then the page closed and I couldn’t get it back. It was the weekend. I decided a phone call was in order.

Today was the day to fill out the form. I found the page to log in. My name and the password didn’t match. I wasn’t sure where the problem lay. Did I use capitals in my name? How about spaces? I requested that my user name be verified. On to the password. Still no luck. I asked for a new password. Then I found a note where I had changed my password. By this time, the computer locked me out. Too many attempts had been made.

Thankfully I had a phone number to call. The recorded announcement said my call would be answered in two minutes. Sounded good, didn’t live up to the message. But I stayed on the line. Thankfully I did. When I explained my problem to the live person on the phone, she asked if I wanted to cancel my license.
DID I? You bet. She cancelled it as of 2016. No forms to fill out this year, or next year. YEAH!

Terry helped me with my query. I had high hopes when she answered the phone. And I was RIGHT! I ALWAYS ENJOY “HELP”!

REMEMBERING

A thaw was promised. After weeks of frozen temperatures, snow and ice — a couple of days of sunshine and warmer temperatures. Perfect day to go downtown and hand deliver the paperwork for our senior freeze. Of course, first I had to fill in the numbers. I was confused by one of the numbers on the form. I had filled it out in previous years. I had confidence in my abilities — every time I looked at the previous years, the numbers didn’t make sense. Thankfully I saved the paperwork and was able to figure it out.

Heading downtown, I planned on staying on the elevated train. Then I remembered the ped-way that stretched underground to city hall. I hadn’t traveled downtown in months. Even though the weather was good, I decided to refresh my memory on the underground path and switched trains for the subway. And totally confused myself. I had no trouble finding the ped-way but that is when things changed. A new building — many new shops and restaurants shared the path. Signage was different, so different that I was confused and asked directions. Thankfully I was headed in the right direction. And leaving the new building, I saw signs showing the way.

Not only did we have warming temperatures, but the day was the anniversary of the fire. I decide that I would stop in at St. Peters, for Mass or just a few prayers. I was too early for Mass, so I decided to say my version of the rosary — thanks for my family, help in my life, help in the world, ending with prayers for continuing help with my path in life. I was on the fifth decade — path in life. The decade is comprised of ten beads or fingers if beads aren’t available. I reached number five when bells announced the beginning of Mass. I finished the decade on the train back home.

While I was at St. Peter’s, I remembered my quest. My granddaughter was experienceing too many headaches and I wanted to know if there was a patron saint to petition. Three people were in the gift shop , with access to a computer. They found St. Teresa of Avila — patron of headaches, bodily ills, sick people, and loss of parents. A holy card wasn’t available but they had a pamphlet with more information on the saint. I learned that she experienced mystical prayer accompanied by visions and voices. I also learned that she passed over on my birthdate in 1582. I didn’t realize that she was the patron of lost parents until the next day. The date of the fire was the anniversary of the passing of both my mother and brother.

I noted the various synchronicities that I had experienced during the day. I wasn’t done. I stopped in our neighborhood for a bowl of Poke. A Japanese dish that I had enjoyed in Hawaii. The number of my order was the year of my birth.

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