On this American journey on which I am one traveler, I have not been alone. Most of you know that I set off with my puppy, Minnah, who is now an adult of three years, and some of you know the second traveler I called El Juglador to protect his privacy. David and I met because we had a similar spiritual mission to travel to the Hopi in Arizona and to points further west. We have continued together on our mission to be Servants of God because what we share is more than a spiritual connection to the Almighty. We three, David, Minnah, and I, share a connection that surpasses time itself. We are truly SoulMates.
One of the things I have learned on this journey is how to reach inside myself and find those parts of me that don’t meet up with what the Almighty has asked of us. The lessons, as I’ve detailed sometimes, are heart-wrenching and painful until I no longer resist. My latest lesson is that Pride comes with many faces. For me, it is one of the hardest things I have had to learn. My Ego, which has protected me from pain for most of my life, has been too proud to ask for help.
Recently, a friend reminded me that others like to feel needed, but if I don’t ask, it helps no one but that dark shadow that loves to keep us down.
I now “suck it up” to tell my readers about the most recent lessons I have had to encounter.
On my birthday last year (April 7,) David got me a real, honest-to-goodness, Starline twirling baton. You know, the kind the majorettes twirl as they lead the band in a parade or swing their magic at a football game. It was my 50th birthday and I felt like a child again as David taught me the skills he learned when he twirled in high school. Within days, we decided David would be picking up his old fascination again and competing in Disney’s TwirlMania this February. We resettled to Central Florida for the winter. Then, just weeks before the competition, he began to feel something just not quite right.
The day before, we went to an emergency room. He just needed help with the pain, or, maybe, something to help him breathe easier. Maybe an inhaler or some pain medication stronger than Motrin. The doctor ordered an Xray. I was not in the room when the doctor returned with the results. David stormed into the waiting room, intent on leaving. The doctor wanted to admit him; something about his lung. It was the day before the competition. There was no way he was going to miss this, he said.
As it is, he had to miss it. We hiked through the venue at ESPN’s Wide World of Sports complex in Kissimmee that hot day, David barely able to catch his breath. The one lasting memory we have is the little boy my son noticed watching us as we walked out. David stopped to catch his breath and say hi to this baton-twirling fan who reminded him of himself. We promised him David would be competing in the Men’s Masters the next day. We never made it. For the next few days, David lay in his bed in MJ, our RV, barely able to walk around.
I took over full duties with MJ, driving her around Orlando, hoping David would feel better, then driving us to my mother’s house in Miami. I pumped the gas, I drove, I, dumped and filled the tanks, I also smudged with sage and spread tobacco as part of our daily ceremonies … I took over every responsibility David and I had shared for the past two years. Well, almost. I still had problems jerry-rigging our generator to start the way the mechanic in New Mexico taught us.
Within a week of arriving in Miami, David gave in and admitted he needed help. March 8 we called 911. He couldn’t breathe and after walking just a few steps, he would pass out. One doctor said he wouldn’t have lasted more than six hours that day if he hadn’t sought help when he did.
That, I believe, was David’s lesson which mirrors mine today, when I created a GoFundMe account. But I don’t really believe this is anywhere close to what David had to go through. So I had to ask for help from my family and friends. Big, whoop! He had to admit that something insignificant was getting the best of him. He is truly a strong man that I love more deeply than words can say.
So this is the GoFundMe page I created: GoFundMe
March 8 David was rushed to the hospital when he couldn’t breathe. A common, non-contagious bacteria had collapsed his lungs when it took over his thoracic cavity. After 22 days, he was released from the hospital with a prescription to continue the aggressive antibiotic treatment. We cannot afford the bills. He has been assured his tribe, the First Nations Ojibwa in Michigan (Chippewa) can help, but he must apply in person.
After almost two years serving God throughout the nation, our last funds were able to bring us to my family in Miami, which has been very helpful throughout this ordeal. Minnah, our beloved dog, was well-cared for, and I found emotional support. I now find myself asking for financial help from my friends.
Please help us get David home to Michigan so he can get the treatment he needs in order that this bacteria is completely out of his system.
The treatment, we were initially told, would have to be for a year, but they amended it to five months. The name-brand medication prescribed for this aggressive treatment would cost $4,000 a month without insurance! (We found an alternative to that, but that’s what led me to finally admit we needed help.)
These past few years, we have been guided by our heart. We believe we were being led by a force much higher than ourselves who does not have to live in this 3D world in which most of us reside. We have been God’s hands and His voice, sometimes not even understanding the effects of our actions. We have trusted that God would provide, and the Almighty has definitely provided when we needed help in the past. In our travels, we have encountered human angels and I hope we have been human angels to those we have met along the way.
Today, I finally admitted that I have to allow others to be human angels, too. We can all play a part in this movie that has been produced and directed for us by something that cannot be defined, something that created all and sees all. Something that is defined as the Great I Am.
He is truly the ultimate Director. Will you play a part in His blockbuster or will you decide to be part of the audience, instead? Will you stop to help the man with the overheated engine on the side of the road? Will you give the lost tourist directions he can actually understand? Will you call you grandmother and remind her about the time you gave her the ceramic handprint in kindergarten?
Or, even more importantly, will you admit that you need help so that someone else can play the part of your angel?
Much love, my friends,
The Dragonfly’s Student