Friends are angels

"Friends are angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly." Anonymous

I wake giving thanks for another day. I hug my family members, and I review the day's activities at the breakfast table. Wrapped in love and compassion I leave the house with energy and purpose and high spirits. I open the school library door, flip on the lights, start the computers, and greet the first students. With such a positive start, what could go wrong?

On most days, nothing. On others the world turns contrary. The volunteer scheduled for the morning calls to report a sick child will keep her at home. A teacher has not returned a TV to the AV room, and the next user takes out his frustration on the handiest person, me. Two children want to check out the same book and my negotiations end with both in tears. "I'm leaving on the afternoon plane because the business meeting has been moved up a day," says my husband on the phone. My daughter slumps in, dropping her book bag by the door. Her contorted face tells the story. "It's not fair," she says. "They picked all the popular girls. It didn't matter how good the rest of us were." Cheerleading tryouts did not give her the hoped for result.

We struggle silently through supper rearranging the food on our plates. I'm unable to find words to ease her hurt. She retreats to her room while I clear away the meal. The phone rings, and Sheila says, "You sound down. What's wrong?" She listens while I list my woes. The telling lifts the weight. Her voice is soft, empathetic; she reminds me that words won't help my daughter, but a hug will.

She's my friend; she hugs me over the phone. "You're an angel," I say. What is that fluttering I hear as I climb the stairs to my daughter's room?