Angels In The Architecture
by Susan Scharfman
As Hamlet says to Horatio: "There are more things in heaven and earth, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
My step-mother was a good listener. She had an openness and come-hither smile that attracted people. She'd get on a bus or a train, and strangers would tell her their life stories. This was before smart phones and hashtags and everyone had a good time talking and listening and enjoying mutual respect. She was an angel.
Have you ever felt desperate when suddenly someone appeared and offered a solution? We were little children when an angel rescued me and my brother from the grim foundling home where we had been living. She was my father's second wife and her name was Dorothea, but she preferred Dottie. Dottie's grace and unconditional love did more for two damaged kids than any birth mother possibly could. In Greek mythology Dorothea means "gift of god."
Years later, while I was working at our embassy in Saigon, Dottie sent me this poem:
"Not flesh of my flesh nor bone of my bone,
But still miraculously my own,
Never forget for a single minute,
You didn’t grow under my heart but in it."
The Miraculous and the Mundane
Dottie was long gone when miraculously she appeared to me one afternoon as I was running the vacuum cleaner. Suddenly she was standing in my living room, luminous and smiling. In disbelief, I turned off the machine and stared at her. Glowing and beautiful, she looked the same as when I first met her as a child. Radiating love and light, she nodded approvingly and slowly faded away. I never saw her again. Yet there is a constant awareness she is always with me.
My Two Angels
When the French left Indochina, the beautiful beach resort of Cap Saint Jacques on the South China Sea reverted to its former Vietnamese name, Vung Tau. During the Vietnam War it became an R&R destination for American and Australian forces. It was also a place where civilian embassy folks like myself and the foreign press went to get away from the suffocating atmosphere of steamy, congested Saigon.
When John and I arrived at the beach it was deserted. No one swimming, no one sunning. John was tired from the drive from Saigon, so I left him sitting at the water's edge and splashed in alone for a vigorous swim. When I realized how far I was from shore it was too late; the strong undertow had taken me beyond my physical capabilities. I panicked and waved to John for help. Thinking I was just waving hello, he waved back. After multiple attempts to swim against the strong current, I had swallowed half the ocean and used up all my energy. Drowning, I gave up and went under.
I was aware of being submerged in deep dark water, looking up at two bright angelic male faces. They were smiling down at me from over the side of their small boat. The next thing I knew I was back on the beach with John pumping water from my lungs. He said he pulled me out and didn't see anyone else. No boat, no people. I never knew who those faces belonged to nor where they came from. My two angels had vanished.
The Importance of Meeting Ernest
Another heavenly messenger appeared on a dark deserted road in mid-winter in the mountains of upstate New York. Freezing temperatures and snow drifts three feet deep, I was with a friend when our car skidded downhill into a ditch. Except for my own isolated country home, the nearest neighbors were summer residents.
From out of the frozen darkness, headlights appeared, growing larger and brighter as the Humvee approached. The driver introduced himself as Ernest. He said he was a U.S. Army recruiter on his way to a new assignment and just happened to be passing by. He towed us out and followed us safely home. The following day I went into town to thank Ernest again. No one at the recruitment center had ever heard of him.
When I am the embodiment of the grace, wisdom and unconditional love of the angel mother who raised me, not under her heart but in it, I will arrive at the place from where I started and know it for the first time.
As Hamlet says to Horatio: "There are more things in heaven and earth, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
My step-mother was a good listener. She had an openness and come-hither smile that attracted people. She'd get on a bus or a train, and strangers would tell her their life stories. This was before smart phones and hashtags and everyone had a good time talking and listening and enjoying mutual respect. She was an angel.
Have you ever felt desperate when suddenly someone appeared and offered a solution? We were little children when an angel rescued me and my brother from the grim foundling home where we had been living. She was my father's second wife and her name was Dorothea, but she preferred Dottie. Dottie's grace and unconditional love did more for two damaged kids than any birth mother possibly could. In Greek mythology Dorothea means "gift of god."
Years later, while I was working at our embassy in Saigon, Dottie sent me this poem:
"Not flesh of my flesh nor bone of my bone,
But still miraculously my own,
Never forget for a single minute,
You didn’t grow under my heart but in it."
The Miraculous and the Mundane
Dottie was long gone when miraculously she appeared to me one afternoon as I was running the vacuum cleaner. Suddenly she was standing in my living room, luminous and smiling. In disbelief, I turned off the machine and stared at her. Glowing and beautiful, she looked the same as when I first met her as a child. Radiating love and light, she nodded approvingly and slowly faded away. I never saw her again. Yet there is a constant awareness she is always with me.
My Two Angels
When the French left Indochina, the beautiful beach resort of Cap Saint Jacques on the South China Sea reverted to its former Vietnamese name, Vung Tau. During the Vietnam War it became an R&R destination for American and Australian forces. It was also a place where civilian embassy folks like myself and the foreign press went to get away from the suffocating atmosphere of steamy, congested Saigon.
When John and I arrived at the beach it was deserted. No one swimming, no one sunning. John was tired from the drive from Saigon, so I left him sitting at the water's edge and splashed in alone for a vigorous swim. When I realized how far I was from shore it was too late; the strong undertow had taken me beyond my physical capabilities. I panicked and waved to John for help. Thinking I was just waving hello, he waved back. After multiple attempts to swim against the strong current, I had swallowed half the ocean and used up all my energy. Drowning, I gave up and went under.
I was aware of being submerged in deep dark water, looking up at two bright angelic male faces. They were smiling down at me from over the side of their small boat. The next thing I knew I was back on the beach with John pumping water from my lungs. He said he pulled me out and didn't see anyone else. No boat, no people. I never knew who those faces belonged to nor where they came from. My two angels had vanished.
The Importance of Meeting Ernest
Another heavenly messenger appeared on a dark deserted road in mid-winter in the mountains of upstate New York. Freezing temperatures and snow drifts three feet deep, I was with a friend when our car skidded downhill into a ditch. Except for my own isolated country home, the nearest neighbors were summer residents.
From out of the frozen darkness, headlights appeared, growing larger and brighter as the Humvee approached. The driver introduced himself as Ernest. He said he was a U.S. Army recruiter on his way to a new assignment and just happened to be passing by. He towed us out and followed us safely home. The following day I went into town to thank Ernest again. No one at the recruitment center had ever heard of him.
When I am the embodiment of the grace, wisdom and unconditional love of the angel mother who raised me, not under her heart but in it, I will arrive at the place from where I started and know it for the first time.