Barn's Burnt Down

On our vacation the first week of Logan’s diagnosis, something happened, which I haven’t talked about yet, for fear of raising religious fervor (either positive or negative) in my diverse group of friends.
First off, let me tell you that the first week of shots was pure hell. Logan was scared, I was still paralyzed by my needle-phobia, and there was a lot of crying on everyone’s part. Back then, we’d prepare the insulin, give Logan to a count of three to pick an injection site, and then if he didn’t, we’d have to have another adult hold him down while the other gave the shot. Needless to say, it pushed us all to the limits of what we thought we could handle emotionally, physically, and any other word you can put in front of “ally” and have it be rough.
About three days into this, after a “two adult” insulin shot, Logan’s routine was to angrily send us out of the room. “Leave me alone! Go away; I never want to talk to YOU again!” Along with “You promised you’d never hurt me, but you LIED! You LIKE to hurt me! Yes you do!!” etc.

This time, as Jer and I slumped in the hallway, having been booted out of his room, we sat crumpled on the floor, face in hands, trying to cope. Listening to him cry, waiting for him to come out. Jer and I were whispering to each other, discussing that he needed to have the control over at least who was in the room, etc. Then we heard Logan talking. He had been talking for about a minute before we heard something that shut us up and made us listen. He said “Quit INTERUPTING me!” to someone. Then he said “Okay, okay.” And “I know, I just hate this!” This went on for about three minutes, and it was confusingly obvious he was having a conversation with.. someone? Something?
Uhh.. Okay.
So after he calmed down and let us in the bedroom, I busied myself with tidying up, and casually said “I heard you talking, was there something you wanted to say?” He said, “No, MOM, I wasn’t talking to YOU. I was talking to the lady who comes.”
My mind starts racing. Logan is losing it. Logan is going to be like that freaky kid who “sees dead people” and he will end up on a cable access show communicating with dead pets or something. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that!)

“Oh.”.. I say, my voice straining to be casual, pert, accepting, but seeking, not pressuring,
“So is she here now?” I asked.
Logan looked at me like he thought *I* might end up with my own cable access show, and said, “No mom, she only comes when I get my pinch. She just talks and talks and says all these words to me, like ‘It’s okay Logan, you can do this Logan, it’s only for one second, and you are a big boy Logan.. all that kind of stuff. She’s, you know, that yellow Angel.”
Taking a big breath, and kneeling in front of him, we talked about this Angel. He explained that she came to him at the hospital, and would be staying with him. I told him he was lucky to have an Angel, and that she would help him when he was scared, or sad.

Now, all of you who know my religious history, probably can guess how this goes against my grain. Don’t hate me, but I’m not “religious”. (Not for lack of trying, mind you- if you can get a pamphlet from them at the airport, I’ve tried it.)
I’ve spent years studying the Bible, attending groups, meetings, church, camp, I’ve been born again, baptized, blessed, spoken in tongues, led bible groups and knocked on doors. I’ve been a spiritual seeker since I was a little girl, but have never found a “match” for me in any organized religion.
So, I have spent the last 12 years being what I call “spiritual”. Iit’s not Bible based, or focused on any one system of belief. Basically, I kind of reverted to a “Great Spirit” (Somewhat akin to my friend Charlie Brown’s “Great Pumpkin”, except not scary.) You know us types, “universal energy without having a name or gender” type of spiritual.
None of it really includes Angels. It’s not that I don’t believe they could exist, I just have, sort of a very cautious approach to that kind of thing. It challenges me to better define what I do believe, exactly, and I don’t want to get entangled in any other groups or religious organizations.
But I’ll be god-dammned if I was going to take away one shred of comfort from that kid, so Angel it is. Actually, I was kind of jealous of his confidence in it.

Then when we came home, I had my own experience.
Don’t get your self all excited or disgusted, it’s just an experience, my experience, and I am just trying not to judge it in any way.
In week three of our new life, I was exhausted, since I’d been frantically sorting, organizing, donating, buying, cleaning, and basically fussing with everything in our house to keep my mind busy. Finally, I was so tired, had emotions welling up, and wanted to take my sorry self outside out of the kid’s radar, while Jer was putting them to bed. I sat in a chair, in the secret cove behind our hot tub, surrounded by trees, and sure enough.. here came the thoughts, closely followed by the tears I’d been avoiding all week.
After a good sob, I clearly remember thinking “CRAP. I wish I had something like Logan’s Angel.. something protecting me, or helping me, I feel so alone. ALONE!”
I pressed the back of my head into the siding of our house and just sat there. I finally opened my tear filled eyes, and was looking straight up. Right over the very tip of the tallest Poplar tree in our yard, there was a star. A bright, shining, star. I felt my chest leap with hope- I don’t know why. It reminded me that there IS more than just our small lives and big and small problems.
Feeling foolish, I wished out loud for that star to mean that I could have a guardian Angel, too. Suddenly a huge gust of wind kicked up, and the Poplars were blown as if by a storm, twisting and rustling so loudly I was kind of stunned. I kept feeling the words “comforted” and “helped” and “protected” in my head. Just as I was starting to really feel it, I started to doubt it. “I wish I knew if this was real,” I said out loud.
The trees stopped in an instant.
Not a slow, lessening of wind, but just a complete STOP.
Not one leaf rustled.
I was kind of freaked out, but decided to take it as a sign of something in the universe, just for me.
I don’t care, I know it’s silly to some, profound to others, sacrilege to yet others. All I know is, I felt something, and I decided to (for once) believe that I had been “contacted” or “comforted” or whatever you want to call it.

In relating this story to a friend a few days later, I was kind of embarrassed to admit my “Poplar tree moment” , but did. She confessed that there were times she would pray for something, and it would happen, and she would also convince herself it was just coincidence or the powers of the mind, creating what seemed to be a “spiritual moment”.
So we stood in my living room, wondering if we were having spiritual experiences, or if we were discovering mind control over trees and sinus infections, or if we were just turning into crazy cat ladies, which seemed the most plausible of the three choices.

“I don’t know” she said, and turned, to continue her tidying of my living room. “Oh, here’s your ring,” she said, bending to pick up a band of silver from the crack in my couch. (I had removed the cushions for her to sleep on the night before and cleaned the whole couch of cheerios and there was no ring there at that time) “Huh, it says something on it.. “BELIEVE”. Here you go.” She said, handing it to me, and walking away.

I just stood there, holding the ring, “It’s not mine, I’ve never seen it before!”
She stopped in her tracks and turned to me. “Did we just find a ring, that belongs to no one in this house, right when we were having a conversation on whether or not we should believe in spiritual intervention… and it says ‘BELIEVE’?” She asked slowly.
We marveled over the ring, which I now wear on a chain on my neck. I’m not rolling in the aisles, but I am not going to look a gift Poplar/star/ring moment in the mouth.
My house is covered with Buddah images, my walls are full of Mermaids and Dragons, my kid has an Angel, and I am not only considering getting another cat, but am also opening a crack in the door of my heart, to believe in ‘something’, bigger than myself.

Later I found this quote, which seems to fit my new feeling of tentative connection, in a Zen collection of quotes:

“barn’s burnt
down…now i can
see the moon.”
-masahide

Bring it on, Angels.