Sunday, June 15, 2008
We are not alone
From the RoundTable blog
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Donna Acquavia
Acquaviva lives, writes, teaches and worships in Roanoke County. She is a lay minister and spiritual director at Our Lady of Nazareth Church.
My husband has always been a physically healthy man. At 74 he can lift almost anything except -- sometimes -- his spirits. He can -- and will -- work in the garden or cut and stack firewood or haul stones for walls and garden for hours and hours, until it's too dark to see. He can eat anything -- including moldy cheese and dropped food-- with absolutely no consequences. He never gets colds, much less the flu, sleeps like a baby anytime of the day or night and has never had major surgery or a serious illness. All in all, he looks younger than he is and, albeit a bit chubby, is a fine specimen of a man.
So you can imagine our dismay when Bob's latest visit to the VA Medical Center revealed that the arteries to his brain are narrowing, causing dementia with the probability of a stroke or heart attack. Suddenly our lives would stop their leisurely journey to old age and would change in ways we cannot imagine. Instead of feeling fairly unique, Bob discovered that he had an awful lot in common with the elderly people around him. He found he's not immune to the ordinary ravages of old age. And although I have a fairly healthy mind but a body that's falling apart, I knew I'd have to take even better care of myself so I could take care of him. We are now one with all of you who have had a diagnosis that changed your life forever.
And I also knew that here was something that I, the walking definition of "independent" (read stubborn) would need help with. Lots of help.
Bob and I are both Roman Catholics and both of us practice our faith -- because we believe if we don't practice, we'll never get it right. Yet, with the diagnosis we've found a deepening of our faith, a new dependence on God and a fresh love for God and each other that has surprised us.
I spent the day following his diagnosis, still reeling, e-mailing family and friends with the news and answering the phone, which rang with concern and empathy. One call was for Bob, so I went out to the yard to give him the message. He was in the woods gathering stones for a our garden walk and was nowhere in sight.
I called but there was no answer. Called again, louder this time. Suddenly there he was -- but before I could say anything, he was whispering urgently, "Look behind you. Look behind you."
Why was he so insistent, I wondered. Was it a bear, a snake, a bad guy? I turned my head, and there, trotting purposefully as though on a mission, was a young deer. Usually deer around here are leaping past us, or they don't see us and they're browsing. This one, even when he glanced at me, had no fear. He had someone to see and I wasn't it.
He rounded the fence and followed the trail until he was directly in front of my husband, looked up into his eyes, rubbed his nose against Bob's, then kissed him on the lips with a gentle flick of his tongue. He backed off, gazed again into Bob's eyes and trotted away, turning his head to look back at my husband once as though to say, "Well, I've done what I had to do," -- and then disappeared into the forest.
A sense of peace flowed through us like warm honey. And then we knew.
This was God saying: "I know you've just heard some bad news, but be not afraid; you are not alone. I am with you always. And I love you."
When we told this story to the hunters, the outdoorsmen and the animal behaviorists we know, all of them said basically the same thing: "This doesn't happen. I've never heard anything like this before. If you hadn't had a witness, I'm don't think I'd believe it."
So there it is. Was it a blessing or just a coincidence? Was it a sign or just a very tame deer?
You are free to think what you think. We know what we think.
And we feel blessed. The years ahead may be difficult, but we will not be alone. Even if we never see that deer again, we know that.
