Angels in the Night

I have a story if you have the time.
A story of darkness and intrigue.
A story of cries in the night and angels who hear them.
A story of laughter and friendship, tears and bloodshed.
Have I piqued your interest?  Are you ready for a story?
Settle in.
Grab a tea.
Ready?
Here we go.

Once upon a time, it was a dark and stormy night.  The time was really only a few months ago but it feels like a lifetime ago; this was the time that my life was measured out in chemotherapy treatments.  Eight treatments spaced two weeks apart from each other.  A time of needles, healing poisons inserted directing into my bloodstream, medications to stave off nausea and more needles.  A time of cranium nudity more commonly referred to as "baldness".  

The particular day in which this story unfolds had not been a great day.  I can't remember exactly why....but I can guess.  Maybe this was a particular day in which my VON nurse was very late.  On day three to day ten after each chemo round, I was treated to neupogen shots every morning.  These shots stimulated the growth of white blood cells in my body and were a good thing.  But they were NEEDLES and needles make me feel a little green and icky inside!  The green and icky feelings were what prompted the need for a VON nurse to visit me and give me the shot. I could not do it on my own.  My wonderful, super-MD husband experienced similar feelings towards needles and could not inject me either.  My four amazing, energetic children would probably have loved to stick needles in me but I was quite terrified at the thought of any of them with needles.  I would have come out of that situation resembling a pin-cushion, I'm sure.  A cute, bald pin-cushion and, quite frankly, the world is not ready for that sort of crazy nonsense!

Maybe this was a day when my appointments, needles, medications and current hairless state were just a little too much for me to handle.  You know those days when everything just sort of catches up to you and overwhelms you like a wild wave at some beach, one of those waves with the dangerous undercurrents that pull you under and spin you about so you don't know which way is up....

I was having a bad day.

So when evening came, I laced up my sneaky sneakers, slipped on a jacket and whistled for the dog.  It was time for some Walk-Therapy.

"Yukon, come!" I called out whilst collecting his leash from the mudroom.

He clambered to his feet and pranced excitedly towards me, ears flapping, collar jangling and nails click-clacking.

I clipped the leash to his collar and straightened.

"Hey Paul?  I'm just gonna take the dog for a walk, okay?" I said without much in the way of enthusiasm.

"Okay.  No probs," Paul responded, "you cool?"

"Yeah," I muttered in one of those ways in which I mean the opposite of what I am saying, "I'll be back soon."
I rummaged in our closet for a warm touque.  I had so many new ones to choose from:  a beautifully croqueted one from my mom, a hand-sewn one from my friend, and a knitted one from a woman I didn't even know.  I chose one and popped it on my bare head.  Sighing, I opened the door and walked into the night.

It was dark out, but not the spooky sort of darkness.  Rather that sort of darkness that is warm and inviting, like a cup of hot chocolate.  (actually, that simile doesn't even make much sense but I am going to leave it so we can all ponder how on earth a night can be like hot chocolate.  Maybe it was tasty?  Comforting?  I don't know........let's collectively move on, shall we?)  It was dark out but the streetlights were on and they cast an amber glow in soft, circular patterns spaced evenly apart on the road.   There was a pungent odour of wet leaves in the air.  Car doors slammed.  A mother's voice directed her children to come inside and get ready for bed.  People were busy settling in for the night while my trusty lab and I strode on by.

I took a couple of deep, lung-expanding breaths and felt my tangled insides begin to relax.  The outside does that for me.  Soothes me.  Relaxes me.  Calms.  Me.  Down.

You too?

I like to think it has something to do with me spending a little bit of time closer to my Maker.
Without walls, ceilings or any human-made structure blocking the way.
Just me and Him hanging out in His creation together.

Yukon sniffed at the grass and I realized that I was beginning to feel pretty good.

"Thanks, God," I breathed softly directing my gaze heavenwards and admiring His handiwork there.  Stars glinted brightly.
"I totally needed this tonight.  Thank-you!"

Yukon trotted forward and I began to reminisce about our lab puppy.  He resembled more giant yellow beast than puppy and he was only 5 months old at that time.  He was a beautiful dog with a proud, stately stature and a black freckle on his muzzle.  We had adopted him from a lovely family who breeds labs as a hobby and he had been such a fun addition to our family.  Aside from his black freckle, he was identical to Marley, the dog from John Grogan's best-seller novel starring his beloved, deceased dog.  I just kept praying Yukon's personality would be all quiet and gentle while Marley's had been wild and energetic.   So far, so good, we had all discovered but after two months of owning Yukon, I was diagnosed with cancer.  With our world shaken, puppy-dog training took a back-burner and there were times when we wondered about the timing of our doggy adoption.

Yukon could sit, stay, lie down, shake paws, give high fives and loved to play fetch.  But he also loved to eat parts of our house and to greet family members with an exuberant two-paw thump to the chest.  This is not cute when the thumper is 60 pounds of muscle and slobbery teeth.  We stayed patient with our yellow beast because he was also 60 pounds of joy.  Dogs are so happy.  Maybe because they think it is hilarious that we pick up their poop with Lavender Lace scented poop bags.  I would probably smile more too if someone followed me around doing that....however, let's not test that theory.... Whatever the reason for their deep-seated, internal joy, that sort of happiness was great to have around.  Having Yukon also gave us a further purpose to get outside.

Yukon loves to go on walks.

"Wanna go for a walk?" someone will say in a high-pitched voice and before the sentence has been fully uttered, our dog will be on all fours and ready to hit the sidewalk.

Another great thing about owning a dog is that you really get to meet your neighbours.  Especially the ones with dogs.  In fact, I think you really get to know your neighbour's dogs and are vaguely aware of the names of their owners.
In our neighbourhood, there are many dogs.  There is Oscar, Roxie, Cayman, Jet, Ralph, Simon and Ella.  I have had long chats with the owners of these dogs but I don't know all their names.  That bit of info is lost in the long conversations me and the dog owners would have whereupon we would smile lovingly at our canines and their doggie antics.  The dogs would be eagerly sniffing each other's bums and getting tangled in each other's leashes.  Maybe barking would ensue but most of the time, they would just begin to play, tongues lolling wetly from wide-teeth smiles.  

One particular dog was Jet, a long-haired, white Retriever.  He was a beautiful male dog with a wide, muscular head and long, blond tresses.  Yukon and Jet loved to wrestle if they met each other and Jet's owner and I would chat about our dogs while dodging our bouncing beasts.  We would share doggie diet dishes and collar conundrums.  Eventually our conversations began to broach on family affairs, concerns and cancer.  It's amazing how dogs can bring two strangers together on a street.  Dogs can make the strange familiar.  Yukon and Jet sniffed, licked and played.  Jet's owner and I talked and shared.


But I digress.  
This digression was on purpose, though, so bear with me.  I wanted you to meet Jet and his owner for a reason.  Yukon and I often met Jet and his owner on our walks; they did not live right by us but, rather, about a kilometre away.

Remember my bad day and my good walk?  Let's go back to that part of the story.  It was dark and the storm that was waging had been in my soul.  A tangled snarl of anxiety and negative feelings.  But the fresh air and exercise had been refreshing and I felt a whistle welling up deep inside.

Yukon and I rounded a bend.

Just then, something spooked my dog.  I don't know if he spied a squirrel or if a noise startled him, but suddenly, he bolted.  His leash pulled taut in my grasp as he lunged forward and I was yanked roughly off my feet.  I fell hard, slamming onto the cold, wet sidewalk in a heavy heap.  My touque was knocked off my bald head, my knees throbbed from bashing against the cement and my palms were scratched and bleeding from trying to break my fall.  The impact knocked Yukon's leash from my grasp and he ran headlong into the darkness.

That fall hurt in so many ways.  In the normal way....my knees and palms oozed blood and pulsated with pain.  In a deeper way.  I had had a sucky day.  I was bald and had cancer.  I was just out trying to enjoy a quiet walk to restore my soul.
As I watched my yellow lab disappear into the darkness, a wild, guttural scream ripped from my throat while tears of pain, frustration, anger and desperation spilled over.

"YUUUUUUKKKOON, COME BACK!" I screamed and then began to cry in the darkness of that night.  Flattened, bleeding, bald and feeling so sorry for myself, I began to cry.  My cries were loud and unrestrained.  I couldn't move.  My knees were so sore.  My dog had run away, I was about a kilometre from my home and I had forgotten my cell phone on the counter.

"WAAAAAAAH!"  I cried some more and may even have beat my dirtied, bloody palms against the ground.

And then...

"Brigette....?  Brigette...?  Is that you?"  a soft voice spoke from the shadows.

Through the blur of my tears I saw her.   She crossed the street and with her was her dog.

She saw me lying on the sidewalk and rushed forwards.  

"Goodness!  Are you okay?  I heard you yell Yukon's name and I thought it was you.  Are you okay?"  she repeated as she knelt down beside me.

I sniffled but it felt better to have someone there with me.

"Something scared Yukon and he yanked me off my feet.  I can't move and I don't know where he is....." I cried.

She glanced around and spotted Yukon a little ways off.  He had stopped running and was glancing uncertainly around.

"Come on, Yukon.  Here boy," she called to my lab and he trotted forward curiously.  Once he was close, she grabbed up the leash.  Yukon and her dog, Jet, began to sniff each other by way of  greeting.

"Don't move!!  I'll get help!!   My kids are home and I live right here," she gestured at a white house across the street from where I was lying prone and she whipped out her cell phone.  She speed dialed and when someone answered, she quickly blurted, "It's an emergency!  I need you to come to the street in front of the house right now......!!"

Her front door banged open and two teenaged boys sprinted over.
I adjusted my touque to cover the bald head and wiped at my tear-streaked face and runny nose.

"What's going on?" one of them queried as they tried to make sense of the two romping canines, their mom and another lady who was laying on the sidewalk.

"This is Brigette," she pointed to where I lay.
I waggled my fingers in a weak wave and tried to smile.
"Hey, guys.  Sorry...." I attempted a little light laugh.

"This is Yukon (they glanced towards my yellow panting beast); something scared him and he made Brigette fall.  She's hurt and we have to get her and Yukon home.  Let's get her up."  she directed.

She still had Yukon's leash and she led the two dogs away while her sons moved to my side.

The boys tenderly and carefully helped me up.  Their arms braced me and I looped my arms around their waists so that I could support my weight.  My one knee hurt pretty badly so I kept my arms around them and they led me, limping, across the street.
Deep in the recesses of my ever-chatting inner dialogue a wry voice commented....hey, didn't you  have a dream about this once?  Hahahaha, I responded to my inner dialogue, be quiet! 

Once we were across the street, she had one of her sons take Jet inside and then get her car keys.

"I'm taking you and Yukon home," she told me, "you can't walk like that!  You know," she continued, "I had already taken Jet for a walk today and I didn't want to go out again.  But Jet kept sitting by me and I knew he wanted a walk.  I had just got home when I heard you yell Yukon's name.  I'm so glad I went out for that walk!"

"Me too, Angela!!" I agreed.
Oh!  Did I forget to mention her name before this?  I'm so sorry.  Jet's owner is Angela, but I haven't told you that before now.

Out of the darkness of that night, a cry rang out and blood was shed.  I was helpless and alone.
Somewhere else, a dog prompted a person to go out into the darkness where she could hear and recognize the crying voice.  And lend comfort and help.

A random friendship forged over dogs.
A random prompt to go for another walk.
Just in the right place at the right time?
Nah.
Too many coincidences and I no longer believe in coincidences.
I see it as the Master Conductor weaving together more lives.
Sending out Angels to step forth from the shadows.
To dust me off and pick me up and encourage me to dry my tears.
Because He has heard my wild, guttural cries from the darkness.
He had heard and sent help.

That night, Angela drove me and Yukon home.  She half carried me to my front door, juggling Yukon's leash as she did so.  I knocked.  Paul and my older boys answered the door and were shocked  at my appearance.  My jeans were torn, my touque askew, my palms bleeding and face tear-streaked.  They ushered me in and spent the next hour fetching hot tea and bandaids to patch me up.  We all thanked Angela for helping and driving me home.  I thanked her again a few days later when I saw her and Jet walk by our home.

Out of the darkness, God.  Ordering, organizing, orchestrating.
Be still, O my raging soul.  Be still, O your raging soul.  From fears and anxieties, worries and stresses.
Be still and know that He is directing our lives.
Bringing forth beautiful things from discord.
Be still, and know that He is God, exalted among the nations yet tenderly caring for each of us.

"Be still, and know that I am God.  I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!" - Psalm 46: 10