Seventh Floor Angel

In second grade, my teacher was Mrs Sanford, and she cast me as the mother in our class play,  The Night Before Christmas.  My mom and I went shopping for the perfect night gown for my role, and I don't believe I've ever owned a more elegant one! It was creamy white with eyelet lace, and had alternate rows of pale pink satin ribbon woven throughout the bodice. Mock-pearl buttons dotted the front, stopping just above my waist, and I felt like Cinderella the moment I put it on! It was a dream gown for any eight year old girl, and I couldn't wait to show it off on opening night.

However, two weeks before my big debut, I was diagnosed with nephritis, and unbeknown to me, it was life threatening. The drive to St. Luke's Hospital that snow-white Colorado eve remains so vivid in my mind. My dad met us half-way after receiving mom's phone call, and carried me from the car into the entry way, setting me gently down in the prepared wheel chair. I'd lost a large amount of blood, and within moments I had a needle the size of my forearm inserted into a vein, with more fluids being pumped into my wee frame than I've ever had since.

Looking back, I don't remember any pain, and my courageous mom and dad hid theirs well. One or both remained by my side the entire stay, and they never once showed the slightest hint of distress in my presence, ever cheerful and optimistic.

I received the most amazing coloring roll from our next door neighbors, complete with a giant box of crayons, and classmates sent cards, letters, and pictures of the Christmas play which of course came and went with my best friend playing my role.

As siblings weren't allowed in any of the hospital rooms, my mom received the doctor's okay to visit with my sisters  in a small waiting area on the third floor.  The morning of their visit, my mom helped me don my new night gown, and weaved pink satin ribbon through my braids.  I felt like a princess as she wheeled me to the seventh floor elevator and pushed the button for the third floor.  Just as the doors began to close, a man suddenly emerged, and stood next to me wearing a smile that was dazzling! Every detail of his person has remained clear to me through these many years.  He was quite tall, with sapphire eyes that glistened amid his luminous white hair and beard. His shirt was the whitest I‘d ever seen, and he wore velvet green knickers with gold embroidery surrounding each pocket. His shoes were brilliant crimson, and as I gazed upon his face, I was certain he was Saint Nicholas in person! I glanced over my shoulder at my mother, as she stood behind me waiting for the elevators doors to part. She nodded, giving me a quick wink and a smile. She sees him too, I thought. And then in an instant, he was kneeling next to me; whispering my name, and assuring me I was going to be "just fine." His face radiated warmth, and in that moment, I knew without a doubt I was well. And as the elevator doors slid open, I became aware of something round and hard deep in the palm of my hand. Unfolding my fingers, I spied a shiny new silver dollar!  Somewhat confused, I stuffed it into my gown pocket as my sisters ran toward me with hugs and kisses.

In the days following my release from the hospital, I transferred the silver dollar into a single white sock and placed it in my jewelry box. I hadn't shared my encounter with anyone, as I yearned to hold on to the specialness of that moment. But as weeks passed, I grew anxious to talk with my mom about the man we'd seen in the elevator, who got in on the seventh floor and off on the third. I was shocked to discover that mother had absolutely no recollection of such a person! I reminded her that she nodded and winked when he got on, and that he knew my name. She was quite surprised when I presented her with the polished silver dollar, but did not doubt my story, and fixing her eyes squarely on my face softly affirmed, " I believe that God sent you a special angel, sweetheart. And I believe that He has made you well!" My eyes swelled with tears, as my mom drew me close, and in that ephemeral moment, I knew with complete certainty that my Saint Nick was most certainly that!

I was up quite late tonight as I couldn't sleep. We had a blizzard and white-out conditions here in Colorado, and I was waiting to hear from our youngest son, confirming that he was home safe and sound. As I sat gazing at the snow outside my bedroom window, praying for God to give His angels charge over our son-for His protection, my thoughts trailed back to that Colorado winter so many years ago when God sent me my seventh floor angel, and by His grace, to this day, my health has been extraordinarily "just fine!"

He shall give His angels charge over you, to guard you in all your ways.  Psalm 91:11