Angels are Real
Have you ever been at the end of your rope, look down and there is simply nothing there? Well, I have. My son Jack is severally autistic. He has been so all of his life. Now, 19 years old, Jack was having extreme issues, biting and hitting people. I watched him attack and take out six men at one time. This went over four days. After one such terrible day, I was at his residential house for the night helping. I was trying to keep him calm. I was sitting next to his bed, trying to make sure he stayed there all night, as the next morning we were going to a new doctor. It was terrible.
I found myself praying. Not just any prayer but the kind of thing you cry out in the night. The feelings of overwhelming need and outright desperation was intense. I had shed sad tears for so many days my face was dry. There were only dry heaves and quiet sobs left, now, as I watched him sleep. A racking kind of pain, that no parent needs to experience ever.
"Lord, I need an Angel. I need one right now! I need one in my son's room! That way I would know that you had this. You had all of this and I was not alone. That everything would be okay. Regardless of what happens that you were in charge!"
This was not a quiet prayer. It was not a scream. It was the low sad sound only a parent can make for their child, into the deep, black, night.
The next morning, I helped get Jack into the van as his workers had already been bitten and attacked so many times, the fear level was high. We arrived at the new doctor's office. In the front area waiting room, once again something set him off and Jack attacked his caretakers' full force. That led to a police car ride, and an ambulance. We ended up in a hospital, transferred here and there and back. Finally, they had him and told me to go home. That they would call me the next day.
Just leave my kid. Go home they told me and they would “handle” him for now. That is not okay, on any level. Yet, there was nowhere to go, and nowhere else to run. So I turned away, got in my car and went back home. Crying.
Bright and early, a woman called and said to come back to the hospital. They had put Jack in a room and needed to talk to me. So off I went. Everything was hard. My body ached from lack of sleep and worse. When you have no way to help someone you love and you're just out on the edge, looking in, clinging and hopeful…
When I arrived, I went through the usual check-in process. I was told to walk back to the unit and I would be met. The hallway was long and empty. I moved forward as if in a dark dream. It was just another hospital and another event in Jack’s life. I tried not to think too hard about what might be next. It was nearly always bad.
Quite suddenly, this small but powerful woman walked out from the double doors. She wasted no time at all, and briskly walked forward, then held out her hand.
"Hello. I am your son's direct nurse. I will be handling everything. Do not concern yourself. He is getting the best of care. I assure you. If you have any questions, you call and ask for me directly and I will handle it. My name is Angel."
God had it handled. God sent me an Angel.
Jack left that hospital better. No, he was not magically or miraculously cured of autism. However, he was re-diagnosed and bipolar was added. He now receives better medication and he has made significant improvements. Whatever happens, I know that God did send me an Angel and answered my prayer. I know he has it handled, no matter what happens. Now and forever, God is in charge!
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