It was a beautiful day in June, while I was driving down a quiet highway, when a thought came to my mind. Everything in my life was pretty good. I had nothing really big to worry about. It almost frightened me when that particular idea came to mind. For it seems that just the time we feel like everything is going well the greatest storms come our way.
A few months later, as I expected, everything changed. I lived some 65 miles from my parents. Fortunately, I had kept my part-time job in the city from where we had moved and from where I grew up. So I had ample opportunities to visit with my parents.
My mother began telling me odd things that my father was doing and saying. Initially, I thought she was imagining things. Daddy couldn’t possibly believe the things he was saying. She told me how Daddy was becoming paranoid and simply not acting like himself.
He was still a young man, so I tried to ignore the warning signs. But soon I had to face the facts. The doctors began using scary words, such as “Parkinson’s disease,” “dementia” and “Alzheimer’s.” As frightening as those words were, however, they didn’t compare to the words “terminal” and “final stages.”
From that time on, my relatively calm life was transformed into a massive whirlwind. The doctors put Daddy on medication, but the drugs only caused him to become more paranoid. The medication also caused him to hallucinate, which in turn caused him to become violent.
I have to admit that those were some of the toughest days of my life.
Knowing I had only a short time left to let my father know how much I loved him, the trips I made to my hometown increased from twice a week to sometimes six times a week.
The only day during the week I allowed myself to rest was on Sunday. And that was only because my husband, Roy, and I were serving at a small country church. We had to be there. Roy was the pastor. I taught Sunday school. I went from having nothing to worry about to being totally stressed out. I didn’t slow down. I couldn’t slow down. I had been told my father only had a few months to live! The family advocate at the hospital talked candidly to me one day. It was his opinion that Daddy would live much longer than everyone thought.
“Your father has the heart of a 20-year-old, Mrs. Gibbs,” he explained. “But he has the mind of an 80-year-old. Your family has a long road to travel.”
He was right. Months turned into years. Those years were not quality years, however. Daddy became bedridden and quickly came to the point that he rarely responded to us. He didn’t even know us. He resided in a nursing home for several years.
Daddy experienced many painful days and nights in that place. And the whirlwind of emotions took a toll on our entire family. After a couple years, Roy decided that I needed a break. “Our anniversary is approaching, Nancy. Let’s go out of town for a couple of days.”
I hesitated, but accepted. I worried about being far from Daddy and was concerned that Mom would need me. But I knew Roy was right. I had to get away. We packed our bags and off we went to a wonderful park three hours from home.
For the first time ever, we stayed in a bridal suite. The room was gorgeous and the weather was perfect. The first morning there, we walked around the park, enjoyed the scenery, the gift shop, and the exhibits. I thought of Daddy and constantly wondered how he was doing. But I tried to stay focused on enjoying our anniversary, for Roy’s sake. We returned to our hotel room to get ready to go out for lunch. Roy left the room to get ice.
I fell down on my knees beside the bed and prayed. “God, please send an angel to take care of Daddy,” I whispered.
I heard the key in the door and knew that Roy had returned. I stood up and brushed away the winkles on my outfit.
“Let’s go eat!” Roy enthusiastically shouted. We had lunch and went shopping. I laughed for what seemed the first time in a long time. I felt a sense of peace.
We returned to the hotel later that day. I decided to call my mother to check on Daddy and to see what kind of day they had. My mom gave me an update. Nothing much had changed. But just before we hung up the telephone my mom stopped me. “Oh yeah, Nancy, I need to tell you something that happened at the nursing home today. I went out to get Daddy something for lunch. When I walked back in the front door, a nurse met me. She told me a stranger was in Daddy’s room and had been there for a while.”
I sat at the other end of the telephone speechless.
“They told me,” Mom further explained, “that they were watching her closely since they had never seen her there before. I walked into the room and a stranger was praying with Daddy. When she concluded her prayer, she turned and looked at me.”
Then Mom relayed the entire conversation to me. “Hi,” the young woman said, “I know you don’t know me, but God sent me here. I live across town. As I was pulling out of my driveway, He guided me here.” When she got out of the car in the nursing home parking lot, she said she asked God to show her which room to visit. “As I walked down the hall, He told me this was the room. So I stopped. I hope you don’t mind.”
My mom assured her that it was fine for her to visit and to pray with Daddy anytime. She hugged my mother. Before she left, she shared a message from God with my mom. “God said to tell you that everything is going to be fine.”
When my mom hesitated, I asked her an important question. “Did this happen about 12:30?” “It was about 1:00 when I got back to the nursing home,” she replied. “Why?” “That was the time I asked an angel to take care of Daddy,” I replied. “Do you think she was an angel, Nancy?” my mom asked. “Do you have a better explanation for her visit?” I followed.
There was silence at both ends of the telephone for a few seconds. I was certain God had heard and answered my prayer. My mom was convinced she had encountered an angel earlier that afternoon. We both experienced a myriad of emotions. But in addition, we both believed the message God sent that day.
“Everything was going to be fine.” Daddy never walked again. He didn’t experience an instant and complete recovery. A couple of years later, however, Daddy left a place of pain and entered a place where he would never hurt again. And everything was finally fine with him.
Mom and I both knew then and have oftentimes talked about how an angel visited Daddy’s room that day. As far as we know, this kind lady never returned to the nursing home to visit with Daddy. But somehow I believe a miracle occurred on the day Daddy left this world behind and entered the gates of heaven. Who knows? This angel just might have been sent by God once again, to escort my father home.
