One theory I have is that sometimes we collide with the exactly right person in divine timing. In my mind, and now my Substack apparently, I call them Earth Angels. Someone who brings us the precise message we need to hear. Usually, this person is unaware (I think?), just being themselves.
Leaving us with words or wisdom or an act of kindness when we need it most.
Sometimes it shifts our perspective, sometimes, it saves our sanity or our life.
The first time I went to the Arthur Findlay College, I was determined to pack all my belongings in a carry-on. Being anxious about the flight from Boston to London, I wanted to be able to manage my things easily. To save space, the only pair of shoes I brought was a light pink suede pair of pointed-toe flats. It was on the third day that I saw my mistake.
The college is in Stanstead, an English village 35 miles north of London. Stansted Hall was Arthur Findlay’s family home, built in 1871. It was gifted to the Spiritualists’ National Union in accordance with his wishes to serve as a College for the advancement of Spiritualism and Psychic Science. Walking around the grand rooms of the house itself was no problem, but I soon realized that the grounds and surrounding paths were not meant for these shoes.
The grounds are beautiful, idyllic English countryside, and there is a mile-long dirt road that leads into town. I started out on the road, determined not to let anything hold me back.
I set out, staying on the dry patches of the path, avoiding puddles. I marveled at the fields of wildflowers and said hello to the horses and sheep as I passed. About halfway into town, the road began to narrow — caked in mud as far as I could see. I cursed my useless shoes, but at the same time, they were the only ones I had. With five days of classes left, I decided to roll up my jeans and walk barefoot through the mud.
I was cringing with every step, now dripping with sweat as I avoided the gaze of pairs of students happily heading back from town with items they’d purchased. What had seemed like a mild spring day initially felt unbearable as the sun beat down on me, and I struggled to keep myself upright.
I berated myself from the inside out for this foolish choice. Why had I not brought proper shoes? Why had I come here alone?
When I got to the end of the road, it finally became dryer, and there was lush green grass surrounding me. I gave myself a pep talk and decided to sit and let my feet dry off until the mud would be easier to remove. I sat on the grass looking up at the sky, pretending to enjoy myself until the mud started to dry, lightening and separating. Then I began to work my feet on the grass. They were disgusting looking. Red toenails rimmed with black mud. I looked in my bag and found one precious wet wipe, congratulating myself on not being a total savage. At least I had been prepared to wipe down the folding tray of my airplane seat. I cleaned the remaining mud as best as possible (it was not good) and begrudgingly put my shoes on my feet to walk into town.
The entry into the town was surprising. Suddenly I’d gone from grass, mud, and sheep-filled fields to a complete urban setting — all sidewalks and paved roads. I marveled at the stark contrast noting this was like a portal into another world. I walked aimlessly through the town, mindlessly purchasing whatever looked appealing at the food store.
I headed back to find the path, only it was nowhere to be found.
I looked for what felt like an hour, pacing up and down the street, trying to find the opening. There was no one around that looked friendly enough for me to approach. I was exhausted and regretting a lot of my choices.
I began to feel tears coming on when a woman approached me. I recognized her from my classes at the college, but we had never spoken. She offered to show me the way back, and I was so grateful I followed her into the thick woods without question. We began walking on a path through what seemed to be backyards and headed in the general direction of the college.
Our conversation was choppy because she was learning English, and I didn’t speak Dutch. She asked me about my family, my kids, and why I had wanted to come to the college. She looked at my feet but didn't comment. I didn't have to guess what she was thinking, she was wearing combat boots.
I asked her about her family, and she told me about her brothers and sisters and parents that had passed. Then she said something I’ve never forgotten.
“I’ve never wanted to have children, they are too much work. Plus, I love being alone,” she added.
At this time in my life, I rarely thought about myself and my own needs. The trip to the college had been one of the first things I’d done with my well-being in mind in a long time. She must have picked up on my amazement at her blunt statement because she smiled and said, “After this week, I can go home and do whatever I want.”
Huh…I thought. Imagine knowing exactly what is right for you and doing whatever it is. Then she added, “You will do whatever is in your heart, I can see that.”
I opened up a bit and shared with her the pain I had been feeling, how lost I believed I was, the emptiness of everything.
We were almost back to the college now, I could see the edge of the grounds coming into view. We stepped on a gravel path of a churchyard, and I looked down at my shoes, thinking they were not so bad actually, I could clean them up for the rest of the week.
Then my new friend told me, “You made those shoes walk into town and come out looking bright — you can do anything. That is really amazing, I can tell you have power.”
I had a strange sense of the world tilting slightly. I tried to focus my gaze on her as she walked off quickly in one direction and left me wondering if she was real or if I had imagined her.
I know I didn’t, of course. I know she probably went to grab a cup of tea and do whatever the hell she wanted for the rest of her life. But there were so many lessons in that journey with that stranger and that mud.
What a joy and a privilege to be able to receive them, if only partially, until we meet on the other side and reminisce about how we work on earth as angels for one another.
When you consider how by simply being yourself, you have the power to change someone's perspective, your existence feels more precious.
With love,
Sheryl
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Another beautifully written post packed with gems 🧡.
Thank you!
“Then my new friend told me, “You made those shoes walk into town and come out looking bright — you can do anything. That is really amazing, I can tell you have power.””
You do. You absolutely do. Your storytelling is an absolute delight, Sheryl. Forever and always 💘🥹