Who says that Angels don't exist? And what measure do they use to express this version of 'their' truth? I beg to differ with their opinion. Being 'the spiritual type' I figure that I'm allowed to that.
Our street is composed of various new homes, built in a new area of our mid-size city, in a new subdivision. For Sale signs languish on several lots as the building boom caves in to the pressures of the current cold snap, better known as The Canadian Winter! Baby it's COLD outside! No roofer in his/her right mind wants to install shingles in these sub-zero temperatures. In fact, no neighbour (in their right mind) wants to go outside unless it's the night before garbage collection day. Fast tracks in the snow show the hasty exit - drop - & retreat as blue boxes land in designated spots beside our accumulated mountains of snow. Not exactly your average Realtors' dream picture enticing potential homeowners to 'look here'. For the past week our street bears an uncanny resemblance to suburban Winnipeg in the midst of one of its famous 'Winter Blasts'.
We've all seen and heard of Winnipeg's decades-long infamous snowstorms, haven't we? -40 degrees below has never appealed to me as a welcoming place to live 5 months of the year. Yet here we are, in southwestern Ontario, living through one of the coldest winters in 4 decades. That's why having 'Angels on our street' is such an amazing experience! Who knew that angels would become The Neighbours Next Door? No kidding! We have real-life Angels living around us, on our street! Are you green with envy? Does that make you want to move here to become a part of this ethereal experience? Some might consider it.
Let me explain..... and keep in mind that this is not the first time I've experienced this. It's a phenomenon that has repeatedly occurred, under different sets of circumstances, over the last several months.
First off, I should paint for my readers a bit of a background picture. Our house is nearly new, built for my husband and I after several years of living in someone else's income property. It's a little house, a bungalow, consisting of 5 small rooms with an attached garage, a tidy yard - front and back, situated in the middle of a supposed-to-be quiet street. We were so proud to call it HOME when friends helped us move in 4 years ago. A lot has happened in our lives since that auspicious day: my beloved Mother died, my husband's Father passed away, one particularly close segment of our little family shifted and split, our grandsons moved away, and most recently - my husband of 49 years was diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer in both lungs. Like most families today, we're not exempt from the vagaries of life.
When Snowmaggedon struck our city in the Winter of 2010 we thought our sense of humour was being tested to the limit! It was then that we came to realize most fully what being a good neighbour was really all about. Just 10 months after moving in we found ourselves 'on the street' along with most of our new neighbours shovelling snow day in and day out -- morning 'til night -- repeatedl, for 11 days! Men and women alike grabbed shovels and bought snowblowers and collectively dug each other out.....without hesitation..... no questions asked. What an amazing winter it was! And what amazing neighbours we got to meet and know.
That was then -- and this is now. Four years later and our community has grown, shifted, and changed. New families have replaced For Sale vacancies. New children drive up and down the middle of the street squealing with delight as they operate their own expensive battery-operated cars, sans adult supervision! Dogs of all sizes and shapes take their masters for walks twice a day, sniffing decorative rocks and flowerbeds in front yards; while said dog owners keep their eyes to the ground with plastic bags ever at the ready for unwanted 'deposits'. In the past year alone, 6 new babies have been born within a one block radius; while stay-at-home Moms rush to the corner daily, with other small children in tow, anxious for the school bus to stop. A cycle of normal community living has evolved and [we, as seniors] have become part of the mix.
With the best of intentions, wanting to be good citizens, from the pre-boomer generation, we have consistently tried to acquaint ourselves with newcomers; greeting and introducing ourselves; taking flowers from our garden as a token of Welcome; loaned ladders and wheelbarrow, shovels, rakes, and tools; we've hosted barbecues; built decks and fences; held birthday parties; and house-sat numerous times -- all in an effort to make friends and 'be' good neighbours ourselves. Not only have our lives been enriched getting to know people from all over the world, we've also learned how diverse one small community can be.
And then came the Angels. Three of them - at first count -- although at times I'm beginning to suspect that a fourth lives just around the corner. Time will tell. They appear at all hours, unannounced and unexpected, without a sound, and disappear almost as quickly, in the same way. By some inexplicable stroke of divine grace I've met them, can call them by name, and know from where they come and to where they go. 'Their deeds follow them' as the inspirational saying goes. Too humble to identify their own 'gifts' these celestial/earthly beings come in and out of our daily lives as if this was normal behaviour in our topsy-turvy tumultuous, war-torn, stress-filled, secular world. But, is it?
Yesterday is but one example of the down-to-earth goodness dispensed by these ambassadors of goodwill, kindness, and generosity. With snow swirling into zero-visibility frenzy, and cold biting the skin into near-instant numbness, bundled in dark layers of man-made protective outergear, I watched with alarm and dismay as my neighbour worked valiantly to clear his driveway for expected clients to arrive at their home-based business. No one should have been outdoors in weather like that, yet here he was, moving mounds, building piles, and clearing a footpath. "Go inside", I thought to myself; "get out of the cold"! He persevered. I watched in horror. It was mind-numbing to behold. I came away from my window perplexed. 'Why would anyone want to drive to our street in weather like this, on a day like this??', I thought to myself. ..... Yet...... Not 15 minutes later, from within the comfortable confines of my fireplace-heated cozy living room, I see a dark figure, moving outside my front door's frosted sidelite window, back and forth, back and forth, in rapid motion. No sound, just a bent figure, hunched in the wind, shoving this way and that. "Who's that?!" - I rush to look.
"Just the front..... just the step", our neighbour's muffled voice puffs breathlessly behind his wool-covered face. "It's a pleasure.", he politely exhales quietly as he clears the entrance to our nearly buried front door. Why do I experience such shock?!
Less than an hour later, continually dashing back to front to peer out at the ever increasing drifts of white, once again I see something out front - bobbing up and down. It's round and black in colour, up and down, up and down, snow flying through the air with each 'bob', on the far side of the driveway. On the opposite side of our completely snow-covered vehicle, a figure is working it's way up the side of our driveway. Up ..... & .....down..... up..... & down. I see only a hint of skin colour where eye-slits should be. The balaclava covers the rest. Who is it, and what is he doing?
Indeed!
WHO is clearing our driveway on a miserable day like this?! & Why?! It's too cold to be outside and we're not going anywhere; not in this weather; no matter 'what' emergency comes along. We're not taking any risks -- we're staying home and staying IN!
Yet, there he was, making sure we had an EXIT route - if needed, in the event that sudden health issues demanded easy access and quick passage. The driveway needed to be cleared. & Cleared it was.
From across the street and up the road, another neighbour -- unannounced and unexpected, shovel in hand, fighting against incredible blasts of freezing winds, deep snow accumulating on head, shoulders, arms and pantlegs, this Man In Black had come to ensure our well-being and safety. No amount of persuasion could convince him to STOP. It's as if he was on a mission. He had a job to do and he was adamant about finishing it. A blanket of calm lay over us as thick as the icey white which fell from the sky. We were protected. All day and all night. The snow came and the cold and the plow! Oh! The plow! As in every community the inevitable arrival of 'the plow' comes along and without prejudice undoes all the hours of back-breaking labour performed by humankind. The end of the driveway is buried -- again! It would have to wait. Nothing short of an avalanche of epic proportions would entice either of us outside to begin clearing the now-impassible ridge-of-no-escape. It would have to wait as the black of night contrasted with the white of nature, shimmering frantically beneath the streetlights.
Enter un-known, un-identified, Angel number three! Out of the blue..... Out of the dawn....
Less than 24 hours after the last appearance, ....as unexpectedly, and equally as surprising, a mysterious somebody cleared the reef of gravel encrusted, ice-sculpted, clunky, dirty-white that had formed in the gateway-of-no-return at our address. Morning's arrival brought no reprieve. One minute we looked out the front window to gander at the new day's uninvited snowfall, still dressed in our pyjamas and squinting in disbelief at this unending torture, and there before us lay the ridge of beckoning work. Forty short minutes later it was gone! Completely gone! As in: disappeared. Not another driveway on our street had been cleared. Not one! Carefully, I looked. Up and Down. This way and that. Every house had an ugly ridge across the end of their driveway. Every one! But not ours! Who is this guardian Angel?
Directly across the street from me is a young man, clearing his sidewalk, the only person visible outdoors. Nothing else - and no one else -- is moving on this street. He's obviously been working at it for some time as his entire driveway is only partially cleared while the snow in his drive resembles a white Sahara Desert. Surely he didn't come across and clear our entrance and then go home and start his own!? Or did he? Is he an Angel too?
Could it be? Three Angels on our Street?! Hmmmm.... Who says that Angels don't exist? I beg to differ with that point of view. I know they do, because I live here and I've experienced the blessings. I'm humbled and ever-grateful. Angels do exist and they come in unexpected instances in extraordinary circumstances, and take us by surprise, allowing us to experience incredibly unbelievable moments of grace.
You should come and live on our Street. You'd be amazed. I am.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
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