Five Angels

(This was written on Monday, but I had some posting issues. Still, one week later, I feel it even more deeply.)

This morning I did something I've done hundreds of times. I visualized angels flying besides my child. Then I visualized a few hundred more. They took over a whole building, a school, in fact. And I started, for obvious reasons, with a kindergarten class.

When my daughter was first born, I would sleep with her in my arms. It wasn't the usual exhaustion of a newly-made mom. Nor was it a product of co-sleeping. It wasn't even a desire to hold her because I loved the weight of her in my arms. Like all first time moms, I had read the statistics on SIDS. I knew of moms who brought home healthy babies who failed to thrive. But it wasn't just other stories that concerned me.

My pregnancy had already come with concerns. My baby failed to gain weight due to umbilical cord abnormality. I endured constant ultrasounds (two a week) and non-stress tests (also two a week). I have a box full of ultrasound pictures. I began to get so good at reading them, I mused that I could be an ultrasound technician.

When my daughter was born- healthy and only a tad on the small side- I thought relief would come. But the expansion of my heart also came with a flood of new fears. I was overwhelmed with the idea that I could not fully protect her. Granted, sleeping with her in my arms wasn't wise either and I managed to convince myself to stop the practice. She slept by the bed in a bassinet instead. But even as I complained that she Would Not Sleep Through The Night, part of me was relieved to be awakened in the wee hours of the night and know that she was well.

When she finally moved to her crib in a whole other room and did in fact sleep through the night, I found myself more than once running in alarm to her side to be sure she was still breathing. So many moms have experienced the same thing, but I had to give it up. This sense of panic, I knew, would never leave me. There had to be a better way to deal with it. Bigger challenges are coming- junior high, driving, date nights with teen boys, college, more date nights with grown-up boys...

Around this time I read a bit of obscure Yiddish mother folklore. In days when babies truly were at peril, in ways we Americans can't truly understand, and died at alarming rates, their mothers would bestow upon them angels in their sleep. Two angels at their feet. Two angels at their hands. And one angel at their heads. The idea was that, in sleep, our souls leave our bodies and transverse the other realms of existence. Some children don't find their way back. Angels guide them in their journey and ensure they return safely to their bodies in the morning. Granted, it's a pretty unscientific approach to infant deaths, but the idea of it soothed my heart. That next night I began giving my daughter angels.

As she got older and fearful of the dark, I made it into a bedtime ritual. I made a simple rhyme: Two angels on your toes. Two angels on your hands. One angel on your nose. With my finger, I would lay a kiss with an angel on each foot, each hand, and her nose. It comforted both of us, especially when she was sick or scared. When it came time for preschool, she nervously stood at the steps of the school and it was then that I turned to her and gave her angels. "But, Mama! I'm not sleeping!" she laughed. Still, she seemed to lighten.

When it came time for kindergarten, nerves reared their head again. This time she asked for angels. Of course, she was too big for me to give kisses in front of everyone. Instead, I held up my open hand, five fingers outstretched. She in turn, held up her hand and then placed it on her heart. The first week of class, I had to fight tears, but it helped us both. It became part of our morning ritual as we said goodbye on the school grounds and lately it has been almost too routine.

Until Friday. Until the world lost 20 tiny little souls in their own school.

I've struggled all weekend to process what happened. That the fears I have so often told myself to shake off as nothing more than paranoia suddenly hit so close to,home. Not my actual home or actual town, but the actual fears in my heart. And yet just like I couldn't, for my daughter's well being, sleep night after night with her in my arms, I can't do what I want to do: Keep her home forever.

So I marched her to school. We chatted about the usual things. We discussed the play she is in tonight. We talked about the play she will see with her class tomorrow. We began our day seemingly as any other, just as the parents of Sandy Hook Elementary surely did on that Friday morning. Only, I had to force every step. I gave her angels as I always do. And as my daughter's little head bopped off to class, past the other kids lining up for school, I closed my eyes and visualized the angels, fluttering, warrior-like, around her.

Her class filed in and I visualized angels around them, too. And around their teacher. And then that didn't seem enough and I flooded my image of the school with angels, too.

And that still didn't seem enough. I sent angels to those families of Connecticut who are grieving in unimaginable, horrible pain. I send angels to those whom responded to the horror. I send angels to all the little survivors and the big ones, too- they may not have died or even been shot, but they are still wounded.

I sent angels to all the school children, their teachers, and their nervous parents. Then I flooded the world with angels.

It seems, perhaps, a very small thing to do in the wake of what has happened. I admit, I am still looking for ways to do more...and deciding what "more" really means. I started with what I can do right now- turn from the path of fear and begin acting from a place of love and hope. If nothing else, the image of an angel is one of love.

I must do this. We have to embrace the love and find strength in it, however much fear wants to grab at our hearts. I say to all of you and all who cannot hear me: May angels guide your feet to good places. May they guide your hands to do good acts. May they guide your mind to be open and loving.

May the angels guide us all.