| My Angel Wears Pearls |
I awoke early and lay listening to the soothing sounds of the waves breaking in the morning light against Kailua’s
white sands. My heart was heavy. It had been another restless night juggling thoughts about Mother. Her health
was failing quickly, and I had recently returned from one more trip to be by her bedside. Each time I traveled from
my home in Hawaii to hers in San Francisco, the miles seemed farther ... and farther away.
The morning hours by the ocean proved comforting; so I arose, put on shorts, T-shirt, sandals, and headed for
seaside solitude. Although I usually walked alone, drank in the sunrise, cleansed my soul, and filled my spirit, this
morning was destined to be different.
As I paused a moment at the beachside dunes, finishing a cup of coffee and gazing across the turquoise sea, a
woman walked up and paused beside me. I looked into her eyes and they sparkled back. She smiled as if to say,
"Good morning." Yet, she said nothing as not to intrude on my serenity. She was dressed head-to-toe in white
cotton and a single strand of pearls encircled her neck.
A lesson from the oyster
“You are dressed up for a walk this morning!” I said, nodding toward her neckline.
“Pearls are so spiritual, so I love wearing them as I take my morning walk,” she smiled, gently stroking the iridescent
spheres… her voice revealed a soothing Scandinavian accent.
“Spiritual?” I said a bit confused.
“Yes,” she began, “Just think of the oyster … how irritating it must have been to have a grain of sand inside it. And
slowly, over time, the oyster placed layers, upon layers, of LOVE around the irritation and made a beautiful and
lustrous pearl.”
This woman in white raised her left palm and cupped it upward as if it were an oyster and with her other hand
touched the center with her fingertips to represent the sand. Then she encircled her palm representing the building
of layers … she looked up at me smiling.
It was irresistible not to smile back as I understood just what she was saying - take my irritations or problems, and
transform them … with time and love … into peals. Was my mental anguish so transparent to this woman, I thought.
I found myself walking the length of the beach alongside this woman I came to know as Annie. I had wanted to walk
by myself, but this morning I found comfort in spilling out my sorrows.
I explained to Annie that I had recently returned home to the island after yet another trip to my mother’s bedside. I
was struggling because I was doing everything I could; yet, it didn’t seem like it was enough nor effective. Mother’s
health was spiraling downward … I couldn’t turn the tide of her condition which seemed to have more to do with
mental anguish then physical ailment.
I told Annie that Mother had been in a facility in San Francisco these past five months, and that I lived here with my
husband who was stationed at Camp Smith in Honolulu. I said that I had now made six trips across the ocean skies
to be with Mother. She had never needed my assistance (nor had she ever requested it before this recent year),
and now I couldn’t do enough for her. I planned to return to her bedside in two weeks when a large contract I was
working on was completed. Then I could devote all of my time to nurturing Mother back to health. I didn’t know what
condition I would find Mother in the next time I could return to her side because her health was declining so rapidly.
By the end of this last visit she was unable to get out of bed or hold a conversation beyond brief responses.
I was an emotional mess as I struggled with what to do for Mother, in addition to running a business and giving
attention to my family.
God's angels
Annie listened to my heart's anguish. Then she stopped walking and laid a hand on my shoulder and looked deep
into my eyes, “When you have done all you can do … you can pray knowing that God will send his angels to meet all
needs. You don’t know what form an angel will take for your mother – be it a nurse, a rose, a song, a verse – but you
can rest peacefully knowing that God sends just the right angel, at just the right time,” she said reassuringly. I
nodded as tears' moisture lingered on my cheeks. We continued walking in silence, and we returned back to where
we had begun.
As Annie turned to say goodbye, she touched the lovely pearls around her neck, “These are plastic pop-beads,”
she said, and explained they were a gift from her grandson. He had saved and saved his pennies so he could give
her a set of pearls. Before departing, we held hands and prayed … to know that angels would comfort my mother
and me … to build a pearl.
I never saw my mother again as she died a few days later.
When I returned to the nursing facility to pick up Mother’s things, for the first time I realized that throughout her
convalescence she had been visited by countless angels. All Mother’s children and grandchildren had spent time
with her whether they lived hours or continents away. Mother’s nieces had visited and made her laugh, reminding
her of good memories. Since she had retired from nine years in the nursing profession - nine years at that very
facility – her colleagues had brought flowers to her room, offered special encouragement, and contributed their time
for special attention. Even the nursing facility honored Mother’s years of service and waved a gracious portion of
mother’s fees. And when Mother’s family was unable to be with her, one nurse sat and held Mother’s hand in her
final moments.
Mother had angels, and I had one angel with plastic pearls.
© 2009 Teresa Newton-Terres. All rights reserved.
Photo © Suto Norbert | Dreamstime.com
white sands. My heart was heavy. It had been another restless night juggling thoughts about Mother. Her health
was failing quickly, and I had recently returned from one more trip to be by her bedside. Each time I traveled from
my home in Hawaii to hers in San Francisco, the miles seemed farther ... and farther away.
The morning hours by the ocean proved comforting; so I arose, put on shorts, T-shirt, sandals, and headed for
seaside solitude. Although I usually walked alone, drank in the sunrise, cleansed my soul, and filled my spirit, this
morning was destined to be different.
As I paused a moment at the beachside dunes, finishing a cup of coffee and gazing across the turquoise sea, a
woman walked up and paused beside me. I looked into her eyes and they sparkled back. She smiled as if to say,
"Good morning." Yet, she said nothing as not to intrude on my serenity. She was dressed head-to-toe in white
cotton and a single strand of pearls encircled her neck.
A lesson from the oyster
“You are dressed up for a walk this morning!” I said, nodding toward her neckline.
“Pearls are so spiritual, so I love wearing them as I take my morning walk,” she smiled, gently stroking the iridescent
spheres… her voice revealed a soothing Scandinavian accent.
“Spiritual?” I said a bit confused.
“Yes,” she began, “Just think of the oyster … how irritating it must have been to have a grain of sand inside it. And
slowly, over time, the oyster placed layers, upon layers, of LOVE around the irritation and made a beautiful and
lustrous pearl.”
This woman in white raised her left palm and cupped it upward as if it were an oyster and with her other hand
touched the center with her fingertips to represent the sand. Then she encircled her palm representing the building
of layers … she looked up at me smiling.
It was irresistible not to smile back as I understood just what she was saying - take my irritations or problems, and
transform them … with time and love … into peals. Was my mental anguish so transparent to this woman, I thought.
I found myself walking the length of the beach alongside this woman I came to know as Annie. I had wanted to walk
by myself, but this morning I found comfort in spilling out my sorrows.
I explained to Annie that I had recently returned home to the island after yet another trip to my mother’s bedside. I
was struggling because I was doing everything I could; yet, it didn’t seem like it was enough nor effective. Mother’s
health was spiraling downward … I couldn’t turn the tide of her condition which seemed to have more to do with
mental anguish then physical ailment.
I told Annie that Mother had been in a facility in San Francisco these past five months, and that I lived here with my
husband who was stationed at Camp Smith in Honolulu. I said that I had now made six trips across the ocean skies
to be with Mother. She had never needed my assistance (nor had she ever requested it before this recent year),
and now I couldn’t do enough for her. I planned to return to her bedside in two weeks when a large contract I was
working on was completed. Then I could devote all of my time to nurturing Mother back to health. I didn’t know what
condition I would find Mother in the next time I could return to her side because her health was declining so rapidly.
By the end of this last visit she was unable to get out of bed or hold a conversation beyond brief responses.
I was an emotional mess as I struggled with what to do for Mother, in addition to running a business and giving
attention to my family.
God's angels
Annie listened to my heart's anguish. Then she stopped walking and laid a hand on my shoulder and looked deep
into my eyes, “When you have done all you can do … you can pray knowing that God will send his angels to meet all
needs. You don’t know what form an angel will take for your mother – be it a nurse, a rose, a song, a verse – but you
can rest peacefully knowing that God sends just the right angel, at just the right time,” she said reassuringly. I
nodded as tears' moisture lingered on my cheeks. We continued walking in silence, and we returned back to where
we had begun.
As Annie turned to say goodbye, she touched the lovely pearls around her neck, “These are plastic pop-beads,”
she said, and explained they were a gift from her grandson. He had saved and saved his pennies so he could give
her a set of pearls. Before departing, we held hands and prayed … to know that angels would comfort my mother
and me … to build a pearl.
I never saw my mother again as she died a few days later.
When I returned to the nursing facility to pick up Mother’s things, for the first time I realized that throughout her
convalescence she had been visited by countless angels. All Mother’s children and grandchildren had spent time
with her whether they lived hours or continents away. Mother’s nieces had visited and made her laugh, reminding
her of good memories. Since she had retired from nine years in the nursing profession - nine years at that very
facility – her colleagues had brought flowers to her room, offered special encouragement, and contributed their time
for special attention. Even the nursing facility honored Mother’s years of service and waved a gracious portion of
mother’s fees. And when Mother’s family was unable to be with her, one nurse sat and held Mother’s hand in her
final moments.
Mother had angels, and I had one angel with plastic pearls.
© 2009 Teresa Newton-Terres. All rights reserved.
Photo © Suto Norbert | Dreamstime.com
Teresa Newton-Terres, is a consultant, trainer, and project management professional
(PMP®). With over 20 years of running a project-based business, Teresa has designed
training seminars, coordinated multi-cultural events, developed brand-building
endeavors, facilitated planning initiatives, edited two Microsoft Project training manuals,
and authored and illustrated a book for youth. She is the President and CEO of
Project-TNT, LLC and has served thousands who are executives, managers, and
team-members from a variety of industries in over 36 states and internationally. She
lives near Little Rock with her husband, Colonel Kenneth H. Newton (US Army retired).
(PMP®). With over 20 years of running a project-based business, Teresa has designed
training seminars, coordinated multi-cultural events, developed brand-building
endeavors, facilitated planning initiatives, edited two Microsoft Project training manuals,
and authored and illustrated a book for youth. She is the President and CEO of
Project-TNT, LLC and has served thousands who are executives, managers, and
team-members from a variety of industries in over 36 states and internationally. She
lives near Little Rock with her husband, Colonel Kenneth H. Newton (US Army retired).
| a true story by Teresa Newton-Terres |