I had been married for seven years and longed to have kids, but it wasn't happening. The specialist, said I had endometriosis, which explained the stabbing pain on my left side. I was told I may never be able to conceive. I was 27.
Recently, the government-run company I worked for had announced that it was privatizing. They were selling off the business loan accounts in packages to banks, and all the remaining staff on my floor had received lay-off notices like me. The gloomy feeling and whispering gossip in the office made my stomach feel queasy every day.
My husband had been out of work for over a year, and my salary was covering all of our bills, so we were overjoyed when he landed a job at a golf course a few months earlier, but it was winter in Canada, and he was laid off for the season with no promise of returning..
My cubicle had dividers between me and the accountants in front and back of me, with two low filing cabinets to my right side with a space between them that formed the entrance. Beyond the cabinets was a thoroughfare that led to the washrooms to the right and the watercooler/coffee maker to the left. If the fourteen staff wanted to get a drink or go to the washroom, it was mandatory to pass by my desk. It seemed like all they did was drink coffee or talk at the water cooler and then go visit the washroom. There was constant traffic in the thoroughfare.
One morning I arrived at my desk at 8:30am as usual, and I didn’t feel much hope for the future. My life felt too uncertain. I had always had a lot of faith in my life and had always been a naturally happy person, but I felt heavy with dread this morning. My impending lay-off, and my my dream of having kids disappearing were all I could think about.
I didn’t switch on my computer monitor that morning, I simply stared into the dark, blank screen.
Then I thought about the poor girl in the desk in front of mine. Theresa had been fortunate to get pregnant a few years earlier, but her baby was stillborn. She was Italian, and her face resembled the Mona Lisa, except her eyes always had a look of fresh tears. She would get lost in adding up numbers super fast on her calculator. On her desk she had the poem “Don’t Quit” in a frame. She said it was a lifesaver that kept her going when her baby died. In case you don’t know the poem, here it is:
When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit-
Rest if you must, but don't you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a fellow turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out.
Don't give up though the pace seems slow -
You may succeed with another blow.
Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a faint and faltering man;
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor's cup;
And he learned too late when the night came down,
How close he was to the golden crown.
Success is failure turned inside out -
The silver tint in the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It might be near when it seems afar;
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit -
It's when things seem worst that you must not quit.
It was as if the thought of Theresa’s strength lifted my slumped head up from my desk. But the glare of the brightest glowing light ever made me squint to look at my dark computer screen. I swiveled my chair around to find a bearded long-haired man dressed in a white robe with leather sandals standing in the thoroughfare. He was surrounded by the softest most loving light that glowed around him. He had a gentle smile.
All was silent in the office, and all movement ceased. I couldn’t speak. I felt frozen and numb from the comforting divine light. My soul felt nourished and calm. I wondered if he was Jesus, but he didn’t speak, and my mouth couldn’t form a sound.
The glow of the beautiful light felt overwhelming and I turned back around to face my screen. I prayed that someone else saw him too and we could share it.. I hoped I didn’t imagine this beautiful visitor. Then the glowing figure walked towards me and I could see him reflected in my screen. He placed his hand on my right shoulder and said “everything’s gonna be alright”.
Then he was gone. Time was suspended, as I stared at my blank screen for what seemed like another 20 minutes, and then the usual commotion in the thoroughfare started up again, and all seemed normal and I started doing my work. Nobody said anything, and I didn’t dare speak a word of what I saw to anyone, for fear they would think I was nuts.
But I felt different afterwards, I felt loved. Protected. Hopeful. Serene. Joyful. Blessed..My whole being had been infused with hope for the future. I felt as if I had a purpose for living.
Within a year I underwent surgery to have my left fallopian tube and ovary removed so I could try to have kids. My husband was re-hired at the golf course, and I got a way better job at Vancouver City Hall.
I never mentioned the incident to a soul, I simply thanked God for my luck, and whoever it was who visited me that day and gave me strength!
About six years passed and my mom asked me to meet her for coffee after her mass one day. I brought my three sons along with me. She handed me a Dell purse book that they sell at the checkout for 89 cents. The title of it was “Touched By An Angel”.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Barney from the church lent it to me and he wants it back. I want you to read it and give it back to me next week when I see you.”
“Why do you want me to read it?” I asked. “I don’t want to read it” I said.
She wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Read it and bring it back to me next week”, she said.
“Okay!” I said.
When I got home, I opened the book and got shivers as I read it. One by one, the little stories on the tiny pages matched my story of the man in the white robe who had appeared to me. They all said that the angels said ‘everything is gonna be alright” to them. They said they didn’t see the angel’s face directly when it touched their shoulder, but it was a reflection in a glass or a mirror, or in my case a computer screen. They all felt eternal peace during and after being in the angel’s presence, and it was a turning point in their lives, an encouragement to keep going for an unknown reason.
When I saw my mom the following week, I gave her back the little book of answers. I reluctantly admitted to her that I had seen what I now knew was an angel six years earlier.
She took the book back from me, and all she said was “I know.”