Guard duty with
a guardian angel
We’ve all heard about guardian angels. Maybe they’re male or
female, or maybe they have wings. Named by my mother for an archangel, I know
that my guardian angel has been on assignment through some wild episodes—and I
have to thank God Above for the love, persistence, and wisdom of the one
assigned to me. This is my story—and Grainger’s. That’s the name I call my
Guardian Angel.
These are the memoirs of a lifetime of challenges and struggles
with a learning disorder, a love of reading, social and behavioral challenges,
and a very toxic and unfriendly family environment. But belief in God has
brought me an advanced degree in education, travel to a foreign country where
Americans are not readily welcomed, and happiness, enthusiasm, and remarkable
connections that extend over an ocean’s distance. Through it all, I have
learned to say on a daily basis that I am blessed and thankful—and grateful—for
the chances and choices I have made that uplift my spirit. I have found ways to
encourage others of all ages through writing, a career in education, and
sincere motivation. I credit my Guardian Angel for doing anything needed to
keep me remembering that God has plans for me. And in doing so, I am a servant
for God’s work—and part of God’s creation in ways that fulfill my life.
Behind every moment of doubt, there is always a reason to believe
in the power that God will hear our prayers, our worries, and our thanks when
it all becomes clear. This is my story of how my Guardian Angel, “Grainger,”
has blessed me and made it clear in my life to give thanks for God’s goodness.
And how much it took for me to learn to thank God, our Creator, for all that I
am.
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Chapter Eleven
Lost in the
Wilderness of my own making…
They say adulthood begins
physiologically at age 26 when the neurons in our brain begin to finally reach
across the synapses—the spaces that are like extension cords waiting to be knit
together—so that we truly can think more clearly. I believe the years from
26-onward for most people are the beginning of maturity, if not just
physically. Emotional intelligence and intellectual growth are, in my view,
even more important. I also realize it is not the same for different
generations due to education, social considerations and conditions, and gender.
I’m
more willing than ever to agree that females emotionally grow far quicker than
males—especially in the later 20s. I’m sure part of this is biological: due to
the shorter lifespans of humans throughout hundreds of years ago, a girl at 16
was considered desirable as a potential mother. However, due to diet, hardship,
disease, and other demands of childbirth and the lack of medical knowledge,
female mortality was more frequent than that for men—who were just as inclined
to have a reduced life span for reasons of aggression, drinking, the pursuit of
wealth and adventure, and of course, ongoing national and social warfare. So
I’m not surprised that I carry within my genes the disposition for encountering
confrontations from my actions and that of poor decision-making. And that just
added to Grainger’s workload in the years ahead until I “grew up” a bit more
mentally, emotionally, and socially.
I would call the years from 1981
through 1992 as eleven years of being lost in the wilderness—and not having a
clear path of knowledge nor awareness. But throughout it all, despite my
blunders and stumbling, I know God was watching over me because I was keeping
my heart open to guidance, even when I didn’t know I was asking for it. And I
sure needed a lot of heavenly instruction! Some of it came from choices made in
career matters, while others were from a lack of confidence, a
blinding-my-better-judgment way of trying to find what I thought was
fulfillment in relationships, and my naïve ways.
In those 11 years, I was honorably
discharged from the navy with the intention of going back to college—or a
university—and finishing my undergraduate degree; finding employment; settling
down in some way to raise a family; and overall, following what I thought was
the expectations of my family and actions that were traditional, sensible, and
practical. Unfortunately, I didn’t do any of that—and took the long way to the
finish line for my ultimate goal, which was to get my bachelor’s degree.
I
can say now that ego, fear, and impulse were three messengers that I should
have shut my ears from hearing, and that I neglected the inner voice of God
(and Grainger’s guidance). My advice now as it should have been then: when you
open your heart, mind, and soul to God, you will receive the best and most
sincere answers you need. If it means seeking out the advice and counsel of a
friend, do so. If you have parents who are loving and kind, ask them. If there
is a business associate or educational advisor whom you feel you can trust,
talk with them.
Don’t
go the route alone—it’s not worth the time and years to lose. (When I was a
college and university adjunct, I would ask my students about their age—knowing
full enough that most were freshmen and sophomores, except for a few older
adults. And I told them, “I spent 22 years from start-to-finish for my first
college diploma. It’s cost me a family, money that I foolishly wasted, and a
career that I could have safely established with retirement benefits. That’s
more time in years than 95% of you or better have been alive. Listen to me for
your own sake and make the most of my story.”) I should have added, “And you’ll
make things much easier for your guardian angel—and you’ll thank God for the
results.”
