Just Like God

Many years ago, shortly after my oldest son Matt was born, I made some promises to my firstborn that some might consider rather weird in light of the fact that Matt was barely more than a newborn when I stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom and uttered the following words. "I promise that I will hug you a lot. I promise I will hold your hand a lot. I promise I will say 'I love you' a lot. I promise, little boy, that we will never part or say goodbye without you knowing how much you mean to me. I promise that to you with all my heart." And when Brad and Meghann were born, I stood in front of the same mirror and made the same promises to the two of them. I know I've failed miserably at holding true to my words at times over the last 27 years, but I'd like to believe that I've kept those promises way more than I've broken them. And even though they are all adults now, I try to always end my visits with them with hugs and to close every phone conversation with a heartfelt "I love you."

Last night as I was reading through some news feeds on the Internet, my attention was drawn to an article about the drastic rise in suicides over the last 10 years in middle-aged single women, an almost 50% increase. I am, after all, middle-aged, single and a woman, hence the reason the article garnered my interest. The article offered up several possible causes for the dramatic shift in the numbers, including pain, sleeplessness and depression that are more often treated with medications now than in the past, which has led to easier access to intentional overdosing on those prescription meds. The article also discussed the effects of long-term illness, new diagnosis of an illness and the effect of hormonal shifts experienced from the onset of menopause. All of the information in the article was interesting, but one particular quote leapt off the page at me.

"Women of this age group are divorced, separated or single at unprecedented rates, and they frequently have no human contact outside of work and the Internet. Frequently, the wide social safety net and companionship of peers and family members is entirely absent, especially if the woman is viewed as infirm or tarnished in some way. Since human psychology evolved in an essentially tribal environment, we are ill-adapted to withstand the social alienation of our modern, urban, self-absorbed mass culture." Whoa, I thought, as I read the lines several times. Just last week, I responded to an email from a friend, whose husband had given me a hug a few days before, with the following words: "You tell him for me ... he had no idea how much I needed that hug today, how alone I am right now, how I sometimes go for weeks with no human touch."

Needless to say, my encounter with Russell on the street yesterday afternoon (read yesterday's blog if you don't know who Russell is) lingered in my heart through the night and has taken up residence in my mind today as well. And as I read the words "no human contact" in the article last night, I thought of Russell's hand in mine ... his dirty, worn, battered hand ... a hand that quite possibly has not been touched by another human in months, perhaps even years. I didn't sleep well last night, thinking about the article I had read, thinking about Russell, thinking about so many things. It was just before daybreak as I lay on my back with Julie's head and paws across my legs and Ollie's nose tucked under my side that something dawned on me ... something big.

You see ... God didn't send me to touch Russell yesterday, He sent Russell to touch me. God knew the words I typed in my email ... He knew. And He chose to use the most unlikely of people to touch me ... a man with one hand and two wooden legs. It's just like God, you know, to take those the world has tossed aside and use them in a mighty, powerful and beautiful way.

Yesterday, Russell said he thought I was an angel ... you are the angel, Russell ... you are truly the angel.