Darling Little Angel: An Anthology Of Short Stories

by Hannah Parks

  Sophie sat for a moment, thinking. “Well, I feel that the therapy is helping me to regain my strength. Overcoming drugs, though, seems like an insurmountable goal. I wish I had your personality. You have something that I don’t have. It seems like you have the willpower to overcome everything. You seem like such a strong person.”

  Val sat gently on the edge of Sophie’s bed. “Sophie, I once was at the same point in my life as you are. I was married, had a fabulous husband, and a beautiful son. However, I felt so alone and so unloved that I turned to drugs as an escape from my failures.

  “One day in the hospital after I had just transferred to the Pediatric floor, at 3:30 p.m. that day, my first patient died. I was broken-hearted. At the same time, though, the parents’ response to this tragedy amazed me. Of course, they were devastated at the passing of their four-year-old son, yet they had such a sense of peace.

  “I went to the little boy’s funeral where I heard for the first time about Jesus. The pastor spoke about the fact that Jesus loves each of us so much that He laid down His life on the cross to pay the price for our wrong-doings. He knows all about us—even the drug use. He still desires that we accept His gift and allow Him control of our lives.

  “I prayed that day and asked Jesus to forgive me for all the bad things that I had done and that He would take control of my life. I will never forget how I felt after that, Sophie! I had never experienced such peace, joy, and freedom. It was Jesus that I was seeing in the responses of that little boy’s parents.

  “Now that I am a part of Jesus’ family, I know that He will always be with me. Through Jesus’ help and several months of making better choices, I was able to kick the drug habit. A year later, I changed positions to become a rehabilitation nurse. So, here I am, 10 years later!

  “Now, get to group therapy, Sophie, before I get you into trouble,” Val said laughing,

  Later that evening, Kyle and Kylie climbed into her bed. “Mommy, when you gonna come back and sleep in your bed with Daddy? I miss you.”

  Sophie hugged her daughter tightly. “I will be coming home before too much longer, baby girl. Mommy is getting all better.”

  As Kylie fell asleep in her mother’s arms, Kyle and Sophie began to talk about the day. “Kyle, I talked to Val some more today. She told me about Jesus.”

  Kyle looked up eagerly. “Oh, really? What happened? You certainly look more peaceful, and I bet I know why!”

  Sophie’s eyes shown as tears began streaming down her face. “Yes, Kyle, I asked Jesus to forgive me for all the wrong I have done. I asked Him to be in control of my life from now on. I’ve never felt so peaceful and so happy!”

  Kyle couldn’t speak for several minutes as he looked at his wife. Finally, he spoke. “I was so scared the day that you were taken to the hospital and so ashamed that I did not realize how much you needed help. Sophie, I asked God that night to let you live so that you would surrender yourself to Him. He answered that prayer and so many others!

  “I talked to your doctor before I came in here tonight. They will probably release you in a few weeks as long as you are willing to continue with outpatient therapy. I know you still have a ways to go, but we are in this together. Jesus has brought us through this valley and has taught you that He is your Shepherd.”

  Sophie was released a few weeks later, but continued outpatient therapy for almost a year. She began answering phones for the suicide hotline, hoping that one day she would be instrumental in giving someone else a second chance.

  Hospice

  I don’t pretend to know the “ins and outs” of hospice care. I am not a hospice nurse, aide, or anything. I have simply been a hospice patient—three times! Who knows whether I will get discharged again or graduate Home to Heaven. My point, though, is that hospice workers—no matter their position—are some of the sweetest, most compassionate people on earth. Only a special soul can cheerfully help change the sheets of a bitter, grouchy, old woman dying of emphysema or hold the hand of a philanthropist who will shortly be breathing his last breath and assure him that he will be okay.

  Some of these hospice workers are “angels unaware.” Of this, I am absolutely certain. I have met so many hospice nurses, in particular, whom I just don’t believe are mortal beings. Human or not, though, I am simply very thankful for the many hospice workers that have touched my life in so many wonderful ways—whether just a hug on a bad day or a birthday cake on my birthday! I will even say a truly heart-felt “thank you” to the clown lady whom I know meant well, although I am terrified of clowns.

  The Journey Ends Here

  Well, this is it—the final leg of my journey. Surprised? No, I am not surprised at all; however, the journey was like nothing I ever expected! I guess the easiest way to explain it is like this: once you are born and old enough to realize that you are alive, then you know your beginning. You also know how your life will end, or at least I believe you can know. I know that my earthly life will end as I am ushered into Heaven just as anyone will who has surrendered his heart to Jesus Christ.

  So, if you ask me, life is like a short story. You get an idea at the beginning, and you know the ending, and then the details fall into place in between! Of course, we don’t “choose” our beginning or all of the details in our lives. I have come to realize, though, that even those details beyond our control can be good.

  May I share with you the many details that have made my life so blessed? Well, it started a LONG time ago. Wait!!! Who put that sentence in here?? I am only 36 years old! Oh, but the story . . .

  Friday, March 26, 1976, was a bit of an overcast day in Lynchburg, Virginia. From what I was told on that day of my birth, the dreariness of the day outside crept into the faces of doctors and nurses who worked in this one of only two Neonatal Intensive Care Units (NICU) in the entire United States at the time. I was born at 26 weeks gestation, weighing one pound 12 ounces. My parents were told to make funeral arrangements.

  Well, my parents didn’t make funeral arrangements, and I continued to fight as people all over the United States began to cry out to the Lord on my behalf. I was in an incubator for three months and was also on a ventilator. My lungs were only the size of tea bags and I had every complication that there was to have, including a severe lung disease. Doctors continued to be amazed at my growth and continued progress, but they still warned my parents that even if I survived, I would be blind and severely mentally handicapped by the time I was 18 months old. The big day came when I went home, four months later, having only minor vision problems!!

  The biggest miracle here is the sustaining power of God when it looked as though there was no hope. Chances are, I would not have survived if I had been born in Indiana (the state where my parents lived). I was born in Virginia at Virginia Baptist Hospital. That hospital housed one of the NICUs in the United States t that time. The other one was at a hospital in Texas.

  I am blessed to see how even back then, God began showing me how He is always faithful! You see, my mom and dad had a ten-month-old son and had little choice but to fly back to Indiana where they lived to take care of him. However, God even had that remedied. A sweet lady gave birth to a baby boy about the same time that I was born. Her son, Brian, was in the incubator next to mine. This lady, dealing with her own son being a very critical preemie, noticed that I did not have visitors and asked if she could hold me, also, while she spent time with her son. The nurses agreed.

  My mother was not aware of this amazing lady until she came to take me home and noticed a small, yellow, plastic bunny in my bassinet. The nurse told my mother the whole story of this beloved angel of a lady. I still have that plastic bunny and have often wondered how this lady’s son faired. I hope to find and thank them someday.

  There are so many things that I could add to this short story. I guess I should continue much closer to the present time. In September 2005, I began to have numbness in my feet almost overnight. Over several weeks, the numbness ascended to my knees. I saw many neurologists an
d had so many tests done. The doctors suspected that I had multiple sclerosis, but the test came back negative.

  Finally, in January, 2006, I was sent to the University of South Florida Medical Clinic where I had yet another MRI done on my brain and underwent various other neurological tests. This time the doctor noticed that my brain showed atrophy in the cerebellum, brain stem, and spinal column. I was officially diagnosed with an extremely rare, neurological disease known as Spinocerebellar Ataxia (SCA). This disease has many subtypes and is often fatal within 5 to 7 years of diagnosis. Symptoms are usually caused by the atrophy of the cerebellum.

  Since the cerebellum controls motor skills, speech, balance, gait, etc., all these are eventually affected. As one can imagine, this came as a complete shock to me. Here I was almost 30 years old and barely able to walk. The disease progressed somewhat quickly from there. I began using short leg braces and then a walker for short distances. Then came the wheelchair. I was placed on hospice care in 2007 and given six months to live. Well, a year after that, hospice was able to discharge me!

  My point to this remains that our life is truly a short story. God knows it from beginning to end. While sometimes He gives us glimpses of part of it, He is the only One who sees the big picture. Why is it then, that we sometimes have a hard time trusting Him? Matthew 21:18 states, “But not a hair of your head shall be lost.”

  So, what is holding you back from allowing God to make a beautiful short story out of your life? Is it fear? Discouragement? He can make your wildest dreams come true, and He promises never to leave His children. The best part is that you can KNOW how your story ends, because Jesus Christ died and took upon His body the sin (wrong things) that we all have done. Romans 5:8 states, “But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” All it takes is surrendering your life to Him, asking His forgiveness, and giving Him the “pen.” The end, then, of your short story will be an eternity in Heaven praising Jesus! Until that end, He will guide you in the most adventurous, abundant time of your life. Hand Him your life, and watch it unfold!

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  Also by Hannah Parks

  Under His Wings: A Collection of Poetry