Was I her Angel?
My friend Kathy B-J thought that the woman who tied my shoe laces at Red Bug Slough last Sunday might have been an angel; (i.e a messenger from God).
Mary C, a mutual friend to Kathy and to me agreed.
If so, "what was the message this 'angel' brought just before Lent?"
Maybe it was this "John Michael Povey accept a gracious gift from a stranger".
Oh that's tough! JMP is an all-American; all-Sufficient male.
Dammit, he can tie his own shoe laces.
And so my male mental tapes go on, and on, and on, and on, and on.
Until this morning in Arlington Park.
I sat down on a park bench to make room for what I call the "Parade of Seven" (three owners and five dogs) as they made their anti-clockwise peregrination. We meet them most every day.
Meanwhile, walking clockwise, a woman walker encountered the parade. At which she began to sob uncontrollably.
"You seem to be extremely sad" I said, at which the woman sat down on the bench next to me.
And she let it all out. Her beloved dog of many years had died. She'd forced herself to walk in the Park knowing that she would encounter many happy dogs, and happy owners. But the Parade of Seven was more than she could bear.
I listened to her sobs. I asked "what is your name?", and "what was your dog's name?"
I listened to those sobs, then told her that when my beloved Penne died I sobbed for three whole days. (My sister Maureen and my brother Martyn will attest to this)
The woman arose from the bench. "Thank you" she said, "that's helped me".
Oh how I hope so. Oh how I hope that I was a temporary angel at Arlington Park, as the shoe lace tying woman was for me at Red Bug Slough.
Mary C, a mutual friend to Kathy and to me agreed.
If so, "what was the message this 'angel' brought just before Lent?"
Maybe it was this "John Michael Povey accept a gracious gift from a stranger".
Oh that's tough! JMP is an all-American; all-Sufficient male.
Dammit, he can tie his own shoe laces.
And so my male mental tapes go on, and on, and on, and on, and on.
Until this morning in Arlington Park.
I sat down on a park bench to make room for what I call the "Parade of Seven" (three owners and five dogs) as they made their anti-clockwise peregrination. We meet them most every day.
Meanwhile, walking clockwise, a woman walker encountered the parade. At which she began to sob uncontrollably.
"You seem to be extremely sad" I said, at which the woman sat down on the bench next to me.
And she let it all out. Her beloved dog of many years had died. She'd forced herself to walk in the Park knowing that she would encounter many happy dogs, and happy owners. But the Parade of Seven was more than she could bear.
I listened to her sobs. I asked "what is your name?", and "what was your dog's name?"
I listened to those sobs, then told her that when my beloved Penne died I sobbed for three whole days. (My sister Maureen and my brother Martyn will attest to this)
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| Penne the great! |
The woman arose from the bench. "Thank you" she said, "that's helped me".
Oh how I hope so. Oh how I hope that I was a temporary angel at Arlington Park, as the shoe lace tying woman was for me at Red Bug Slough.
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| The sobs of grief. 'Tis a stock photo'., not of the sobbing woman I met at the Park this morning. |
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