Light Worker

Have you ever come face-to-face with an angel?

I don’t mean that friend who makes you chicken noodle soup when you’re sick or that colleague who picks you up when you’re down. I mean the person who shows up unexpected to deliver a message that is just what you need at a specific moment in time.

It happened to me once, twenty years ago, and I remember it vividly.

I was in Provincetown, alone, for a week-long poetry workshop at the Fine Arts Work Center. My son was three and at home running around with airplane arms in the living room, and I was struggling with his dad, who was an alcoholic. I was attending Al-Anon regularly, managing my textbook codependency, and trying to fix everyone and everything.

Once I arrived in P-Town, I wandered around its galleries and restaurants in a daze, until I stumbled upon Recovering Hearts, a bookstore and gift shop on Standish Street. It was full of prayer flags, Buddha statues, and bowls full of worry stones.

As I browsed through the Melody Beattie books, a tall, lean guy who was also scanning the shelves stood next to me. He was quiet at first. But then he leaned toward me and said, “You look like the corporate type.”

“Corporate type?” I asked, surprised.

“Yes!” he said. “I can tell.”

“How?” I asked.

“You just have that look.”

“Well, I work for a non-profit,” I said. “So not really corporate. But I’m in management, so I guess that’s why you said that.”

“A-ha!” he said.

When he asked why I was in P-town, I told him I was taking a poetry workshop.

“That’s cool!” he said.

“I love writing,” I added. “But I’m struggling trying to relax into it….and not being with my son.” Being away from him to be by myself and write made me sick with guilt. What kind of mother does that?

“Really?” he said. “Why are you struggling? It sounds like a great opportunity!”

“Ugh,” I said. “I just feel like I’m not taking care of my family.”

Saying it out loud actually made me tear up.

He surprised me then by lightly grabbing my arm. And this stranger then looked at me with great intention and said firmly, “You absolutely are taking care of your family,” he said. “This is the best thing you can do for your family!”

I almost fell over. I didn’t know of any universe where taking care of others wasn’t priority number one. Forget that “put your mask on first” concept. I was always strapping on my son’s mask first.

At the same time, the truth in this guy’s words resonated. The zing reverberated in the middle of my chest. It sent me reeling.

Twenty years later, I realize how often I still think about his declaration. As my son grew older, every time I considered going to yoga, or heading out on a girls’ weekend, or going out with friends in the evening when I could have been home, I thought about this guy. I had to slowly work at being a practitioner of his advice. It took me a while to believe that you don’t always have to be with a person to be taking care of them. Sometimes taking time away and taking care of yourself is the most helpful thing you can do.

Right up until last year, I have headed to P-Town every summer for a writing retreat. It has brought me great joy and has filled my bucket in more ways than I can even articulate.

Before that day, I thought divine beings were winged, translucent, wearing flowing white robes. And that they might drop a white feather in your path or leave a flash of light, an animal-shaped cloud, or a rainbow in the sky for you to see.

But sometimes, an angel shows up in an unexpected form. It might be a tall, lanky guy in a tiny bookstore in a weird place. Whatever they look like, that angel will show up with a clear vision and heart: They will see you and whisper something in your ear like no one else can.