I was recently at Dr. Norma Jean Fischer’s office, waiting for my chiropractic appointment. All her patient rooms are filled with angels – figurines, paintings, even a drawing of an angel from a young patient. This little child’s doodle got me to thinking about my mom. A little over a year ago, she passed away suddenly of a brain aneurysm. My mother collected angels, although she didn’t have as big a collection as Dr. Fischer’s.
Last March, I got a call from my dad that mom was in the hospital on life support (he didn’t want to tell me over the phone that mom was dead). Like everyone else, I was in complete shock. My mom was the healthiest, most active 68 year old that I knew. I had just seen my mom the weekend before, nothing out of the ordinary. My husband drove us to the Cookeville hospital, and I prayed the entire way that she would be fine, but I knew deep down that she was already gone.
That evening at the hospital was a blur. A bad ice storm was coming and so my husband and I decided to head home around ten that evening. I walked back numbly to my car and climbed in the passenger seat. My car was filthy, a combo of slush and brine from the salt trucks’ work on I-40. I glanced out my window as my husband started the car. It looked like a child had been doodling on my foggy, dirty window. From my inverted vantage point, the drawing looked like an angel flying, and underneath the letter “R”. My mom’s name was Rowena.
click here I went into the garage the next morning to get a better look at mom’s angel and R, but both were gone. I was 34 weeks pregnant and I think my mom was trying to tell me that everything was going to be just fine. And she was right, my pregnancy and birth went smoothly, and baby Ensley is perfect.
As I write this, I’m looking at some of my mom’s angels that now sit on my desk. A part of me wishes that I would have taken a picture of mom’s angel and R, but maybe the point of angel doodling is that you just believe, no “proof” necessary.