This and That

I went out to Teenie's school to pay for her annual/year book. Today is the last day of the quarter and if I hadn't bothered today I would have had to pay an additional five bucks. Oh, um, ouch! Anyway, I hope she will enjoy it for years to come. I like to looksee through mine now and again.

No sooner did I get home and let Hols out to do her business and relax, I got a call from Crickles school. Fever. Headache. Feels like chucking buckets.

Crap.

Do you know what today is? Friday. It's also the last day of school before their Fall Break. They don't go back to school until my birthday.

I was also going to mail out certain mailers . . . that are currently collecting dust on my kitchen counter. DON'T PANIC. I'm not. You shouldn't. I'm still going to the post office to mail them out today if it's the last.thing.I.do. Please, Raphael, guardian angel dear, don't let it be the last thing I do!

So, while Crickles is resting on the sofa, I thought I'd pop up here and blog about some angel incidents in my life.

In a galaxy far far far far away, when I was a teenager, and it was my mum's birthday, dad got the brilliant idea of taking the family to a Seattle Mariner's baseball game. So we went. Mum tripped on a curb and fell on her wrists (actually, she did sprain them we found out later) on our way back to the ferry boat home. She was in a lot of pain. She needed ice on her wrists so I bought some cold Cokes for her to rest her wrists on. Some old gel came 'round and consulted mum and they chatted a bit, and I just remember this lady really comforting my mum before, literally, disappearing. She bought a ticket to get on our side of the ferry terminal. She had to be going to Bainbridge . . . but she wasn't in the group of people getting on and we sat near the boarding doors . . . never saw her again.

Forwarding a few years . . . I was working in Seattle and had a terrible habit of blasting music into my ears with a walkman (remember those???). I was listening to U2's "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For". I could barely hear the street noise. But, being partially hearing impaired, I always watch a gazillion more times than a normal person does - I over use my eyes constantly as my ears cannot be counted on to give me reliable information.

So, the light is in my favour and I begin to cross, not seeing any on-coming traffic.
Next thing I know, I'm literally touching a bus with the palm of my left hand and I am saying, prayerfully, "Jesus."

The bus had jumped the red light.
I do not know how on earth the bus stopped before it made me part of the street.
And yet, I do know.

You know.

There were a couple of regular ferry boat passengers that had witnessed that and asked me on the evening home boat if I was alright and gasping how they thought I was 'dead for sure' and, 'that bus did not look like it was going to stop' and 'it's a miracle that bus stopped - I thought there wasn't time for as fast as it was going' . . . etc.. I think it really dawned on me then just how almost dead I'd become.

Fast forward to today.
On my way back from paying for the yearbook, I thought, "I should pop back down to Bibbit Tea Bobbit Tea Brew's for another cuppa tea. That tea (Oolong) yesterday was divine!" But I listened to that voice in my head that suggested I just go home. And, I'm driving along Salt Lake Blvd., and the street to turn down to Target is coming up and I get the quivers to turn into Target and shop around. "No," says the voice, "Just go home and relax. Make tea at home." So, reluctantly, I listen and obey. No sooner do I warm up some rice (I know, what the devil? the rice is good rice - Puerto Rican recipe rice made by me), I'm bailing it into my mouth and running out the door to get my baby.

On the way there, I hear the voice telling me to take Salt Lake, but this time I don't listen. It's faster (mileage wise and speed wise) to go the other way. The left turn lane I need is blocked off partially for road work so that when I get up to it, I'm stuck in the go straight lane. I go straight realizing that there is no other left turn to get to his school and I'm going to have to get in the right (but center) lane that will shoot me toward the airport where I can take a left and come to the school the back way.

Always listen to that voice, Sarah, it belongs to Raphael (my guardian angel).

I learned about naming guardian angels from Mother Angelica. I never "tested" the name as in asking for a sign or anything. I named him about the time I went to a Northeast conference for MCCW back in Maryland. Everything for me, at that time, was coming up Raphael. So I just went with it. **

Thanks for all your hard work - and for loving and serving God by taking care of me here, on this incredible journey.

**apparently, naming angels is discouraged by the Church and Her teachings. I'm not going to walk down a Pharisee path here and march over this. I rarely refer to my guardian angel by name and sadly, I rarely refer to him at all. Him/her, whatever. I do think there are bigger fish to fry than this issue, but if the Church says, we must.