Michael

I've always believed in angels. When I think of all the "bullets" I've dodged throughout my life, I am convinced that much of it was divine intervention. Sometimes, they come to me in dreams, but other times, I have to be still and listen. Of all the angels, Michael, the protector, has always been my favorite.

When the receptionist at therapist #1's office stopped me from leaving, it was to talk about "a payment I could afford". Therapist #1 insisted on talking to me about it. Finally, I asked him if he could beat my fifteen dollar co-payment and he had to admit he couldn't. Must be tough times for therapists.

I mentioned that Big Daddy (Dr. X) had actually recommended two therapists. Therapist #1 asked me what therapist #2's name was, and I, of course, didn't remember. So I go digging in my purse for the other card, which is brown and looks like a pack of "Raw Sugar", until I finally find it. His name is Dr. So-and-So.

It turns out that Dr. So-and-So has his office in the very same building, and Therapist #1 is excited to introduce me. I'm still like "Yeah, whoop-dee-doodie, but does he take my insurance?" After calling Dr. So-and-So on my behalf, two things are determined.

1. Yes, he does accept my insurance.
2. Yes, he would love to meet me. He'll meet us in the lobby.

Once again, I am thinking "Must be hard times in the therapy business."

Off Therapist #1 and I go to the first floor lobby. The offices are housed in a huge Victorian house that has been converted. There is a long, grand staircase that runs from the second floor to the first floor where I am standing. Next to me is the front door, which has a huge beveled glass window that is very ornate.

As I look up the steps, here comes Dr. So-and-So trotting quickly down the steps, with what can only be called "flair". When he gets to the bottom of the steps, he asks me if we've met before.

Thinking I'm hilarious, I say "I don't know, do you feel like we've met before?"

Simultaneously, the next things happen: He reaches out his hand to shake mine, as I reach out to shake his. I notice he doesn't take my hand, but waits for me to take his. I'm thinking this is another thing like the stare down I had with Big Daddy the week before.

Right at that very moment, he says "Hi, my name is Michael" just as the sun suddenly hits the beveled glass window throwing rainbows all over his face. As I marvel at his name and the rainbows dancing on his face, I realize that Michael is completely blind.

Then my inner dialogue started. I wished someone had mentioned it to me. I thought about how my body language is half my message. I thought about how, while I didn't need to look my best, I better smell my best. Then I wondered if there were deaf therapists anywhere and was relieved that mine was blind. This whole thought process lasted about five seconds.

At the six second mark, I had an epiphany. Who better to get insight from than a blind man named Michael? I knew he was my destiny.