Patricia Gallagher
215-272-1933
www.teamofangels.com
You may reprint, provided credit is given.
Mom’s Midlife Crisis
I sat alone in my living room in the middle of the night and thought, Maybe the kids are right – am I going through a mid-life crisis? Yes, the gnawing awareness that my life is more than half over haunted me, what did I have to show for it?
If I were a man, I would probably be signing on for hair replacements, buying a cherry red corvette, dating a young “trophy” girlfriend. It could be worse, I said to my older children (ages 23, 22, 19 and 16). …. At least I’m not out barhopping and drinking, at age 54. Just think you have a mom, driving nationwide in a van bedecked with angels and stars, passing out angel pins. Maybe it seems “a little puzzling” or a little nuts, as many have said.
“For God’s sake, why doesn’t Trisha get a real job?”
“Yeah, why doesn’t she just work like the rest of us?”
“Did you hear what she is trying to do now?!”
The worst pain was hearing “It’s another one of her feverish pursuits.” Lots of people had difficulty understanding it. I vowed not to tell anyone else what I was planning to do.
I tried to catch my breath, my face flushed with embarrassment. My stomach hurt, my head ached. I felt bad enough about my financial situation, fretting over money, but hearing people talking about me at my neighbor’s funeral cut to the core. But what about the part of trying to use any God-given talents, I said to myself. I guess nobody sees any such talent in me.
I had always worked part-time with a variety of home-based business ventures. I had an MBA in Finance. I was raising four children with busy schedules, swimming lessons, scouts, community work, and so on. I even wrote and published a few books. I was a guest on Oprah two times, make that three if you count the time one of the segments reran. I was also on lots of other shows like CNN, Sally Jessy Raphael, Maury Povich, and the 700 Club twice. To others, it seemed like I should just get my act together and start providing for my family.
What I wasn’t counting on were the detours in my life--pulverizing and pummeling my life plan with pain and problems. I know I am no different than anyone else but when you are in the middle of the storm, you feel alone, and self-pity becomes God’s teachable moment.
I began to doubt that life would be "normal" again. I was weighted with failures, mistakes, and fears. I struggled with lots of woulda’s, coulda’s and shoulda’s. I recalled terrible disagreements, some difficult truths out in the open, depression, civil law suits, my daughter's car flipping on a lonely stretch of highway, an airlift by helicopter to a trauma center, illnesses, and regrets.
I had floundered for five years, exhausted, bewildered and overwhelmed. As one problem was resolved, three more appeared. Our family counselor panicked at the latest situation.
“I have never seen such a rash of pain in one family."
God, why is this happening? I’d cry out. It was a plea for guidance.
I cried, wailed and moaned, and prayed harder than ever. I was angry – raging at the people who had caused my problems; infuriated at the way my life was going.
In 1999, I started an angel pin project. It was my own tough times that inspired what I called THE SEND A TEAM OF ANGELS TO HELP movement.
I figured that when you are in despair, you need a whole team on your side. It provided an income for my family. I distributed 78,500 Team of Angels lapel pins and received 30,000 heartwarming letters and grim stories from people around the world – from Michael Ross, a prisoner on death row; a woman whose triplets were killed by a drunk driver; a child who had been abused; and, a young girl who credited the pin with helping her find a kidney donor. The common theme was that the little angel pin carried a message of hope, a little light at the end of a tunnel.
I discontinued my ministry of angels when a bad rainfall flooded the garage where I kept my pins, files, poems and supplies. I watched lounge chairs, boxes of my notes, all of my hard work, and computer parts float away. My eyes were bloodshot with tears for days and I felt weary from a week of cleaning up from a business now in ruins.
I moved in with my mother, the second time in five years. A marital separation had changed our lifestyle and “Mom-Mom” was always there to help.
The angel pins are gone. The project is over. I guess it is time for me to start something new, I wept. How am I going to begin again? I worried that bills would go unpaid and I would be mired in debt again.
God, where do you want us to live? Where is home for my family?
The following day I saw a beautiful stone home on the property of an old church. The sign read PARSONAGE FOR RENT. The touch of the sun and the gentle breeze quieted my anxiety. I love it, I said to myself. The tall trees, the wooden bench, the steeple pointing toward God, the gardens, the stained glass windows, the bell tower all seemed to say WELCOME - YOU ARE HOME. The bright glow of the sun reflected on the stained glass and seemed to pour much-needed healing toward the stone house.
I had a small amount of money in the bank to be used as a down payment for a house. I didn't have a job. I was separated from my husband of 25 years. By the grace of God, we settled in by that Sunday.
I love my home, so peaceful and special. I struggle with the Why's, though. God, why did you bring me here? Why can't I find a job? How do you want me to provide for my family?
My small savings was depleting rapidly - rent, utilities, car expenses, food for a hungry brood of teens, and college tuition for three daughters.
I began to have an image at night, which became almost an obsession. I’d lay there, staring at walls and ceiling, as the clock ticked relentlessly on, minutes, then hours as I lay in my bed, wide awake. I got up in the middle of the night, clicked on the light and reread some of the letters that had survived the flood.
On the mildewed and curled stationery, I re-read their words. My heart broke as I read the letter from a former Vietnam prisoner of war. He had read an article in the Stars and Stripes military newspaper that told of my donation of 5000 pins to our United States’ troops. I pictured his battered face as he told me what my little pins must mean to servicemen and women fighting in Iraq. My fingers wrapped around the letter from a missionary who worked in a leper colony and the one from a teenager who clung to hope with her angel pin--her dad had been missing five days from a camping trip.
The recurring dream, the one I could no longer dismiss, seemed to say, "Make 50,000 more TEAM OF ANGELS PINS and give them away. Reach out to others in need.”
I was not in a position to take on such a venture. I lived across the street from the Golden Age Home for seniors. I wondered if some of those people had regrets about not following their hearts. An inner voice spoke to me “What if you never try it, Trisha. You will be ninety years old, sitting in a rocking chair wondering what would have happened if you had tried it.”
I went to a park. I mused, as I looked upward. I was looking to the clouds for a sign - maybe I was expecting the swirling of angels. Preferably a trio of angels! I went to eight churches - asking the God of many faiths, Methodist, Catholic, Lutheran, Unitarian, Jewish, Episcopal, Protestant, and Baptist, for help.
I thought of the people who had written to me over the years, depressed, lonely, discouraged, sick, and hopeless. I agonized for the city of New Orleans’ victims, the coal miner's relatives, frail sick relatives, and those serving in Iraq. And what about 911 survivors, the people who lost someone, the people in ravaged war zones - couldn't they use a Team of Angels too?
I thought of how in my own life I had felt all of those desperate feelings. I asked God why He had put so many traumas and trials in my life. In the quiet recesses of my mind I heard a voice saying, “So you can truly relate to the pain of those who need your pins.” God seemed to continue – “Trisha, if you step out in faith, I will provide.”
I implored God, It seems foolhardy, and a waste of money I can’t afford to waste. Please send me a sign. I said to myself I will know it is right if it is "seamless"- flowing effortlessly. I turned the computer on. The first word that popped on the screen was SEAMLESS. I received a card in the mail that said STEP OUT IN FAITH. I opened a book and saw the words “Increase our faith!"
I still could not bring myself to borrow the money to make this "thing" happen. What if it was just a crazy, hair brained, and silly notion? What if I really was going nuts?
I noticed the date February 2 - my deceased brother Robbie's birthday. He was a go-getter. He seemed to tell me “JUST DO IT!” That night, I stepped out in faith and did it. I was officially into this, ready or not!
No more excuses, what better way to strengthen my faith than to give the little I had and ask God to do something with it? Do something with 50,000 angel pins and a little poem that accompanied it entitled A TEAM OF ANGELS FOR THE OVERWHELMED. This seemed like a tall request, in the conventional sense, but in the spiritual realm, it seemed possible. Only the thought of trying my best to trust Him moved me forward when logic said it was a dumb idea.
I ordered 50,000 gold Team of Angels lapel pins and 120,000 bookmarks. I asked my dad for help from heaven. The cemetery gates were open and I sat by his grave at midnight with a blank piece of paper and a flashlight in my hand. I looked up to the sky. I let my unconscious mind scribble the words that I heard, in my mind.
Trisha, we will send people to help you. You won't be alone. We will provide what you need to pass the message of the angels. You can do it. You will see lots of small acts of kindness. I am with you. Love, Dad.
Oh boy, I muttered to myself, I better not tell my kids about this - they'll say, "Now she is hearing voices!" I could just picture them rolling their eyes.
My heavenly Father, God, has created a patchwork quilt for my life. He took my pain and problems, forced me to pray, made a pin, and guided me on a new path. He wrapped the quilt around me like a warm Comforter.
Oh, now how in heaven’s name will this all happen? I laughed to myself and listened to a whisper from God, "Remember, Trisha, how you love tea, hospitality and people. Why don't you visit lots of U.S. cities and ask anyone who believes in this to host a tea - in a church social hall, shelter, nursing home, hospital, sewing circle, recovery group or support group. You can share the story of the team of angels. Anyone who would like to share the "pass-it-along" angel pin can take the pins and begin passing them along." It sounded farfetched but intriguing.
I told a friend in Maryland about the idea. He asked, "How are you going to do this?" I answered by Divine Providence. "I have a teacup overflowing with pennies here on my kitchen counter. I was wondering what I was going to do with them. I'll get them to you." I told a friend about that conversation and she said, "I have a cup of change. I'll get that to you." This morning I found a plastic bag with 70 pennies on my porch.
I went to an empty church with a notebook. To me the idea is to pass along a symbol of caring that is interfaith and inspirational. I sat and waited for the words to fall onto the paper. I wrote the following words as I daydreamed:
I wondered what would happen if I made 50,000 angel pins and passed them out to those who felt disconnected, overwhelmed, sad, tired, afraid, discouraged, angry, depressed, lonely, hurt or resentful. Please know that I am praying for you whenever you wear this pin. When you see someone who needs it more than you do, kindly pass it along. I hope that the three angels bring peace to your home, your heart and our world.
I did the roadtrip this past summer. It was a lifechanging event! I welcome interviews and speaking engagements.
www.teamofangels.com
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