Worm Angels

wisdom from a walk

Photo by Jonathan Kemper on Unsplash

“Mom, we’re like worm angels,” my 5 and a half year old son said on soggy, Saturday morning.

It had been a copious rain and there were hundreds of worms and we had to “save them, Mom!” so we started with leaves and helicopter seeds. We rescued little ones and big ones because “someday when we need help an angel will help us, right Mom?”

“Exactly,” I answered.

Here’s a quick piece of situational wisdom. When the twig came to airlift the worm off of the asphalt and onto the dirt they recoiled and tried to go the other way. Understandable, they were scared. The bigger the worm the harder they fought, some of them slipping back down to the ground restarting the whole process. Some worms relaxed, and we easily transported them from the street to the grass.

It was interesting that they all were headed in the right direction, but upon arriving at the curb, they couldn’t get where they needed to go. They needed intervention. They needed help from another, higher perspective; the easier they surrendered, the faster they got to where they needed to go.

“We saved like ninety-nine hundred worms, Mom.”

“We sure did save a lot.”

“If you want to be helped, you be a helper, right Mom?”

“Yup.”

“But where’s our help?” he asked.

“It comes just when you need it, like the worms didn’t need us yesterday.”

“Oh, got it.”

I was hoping I got it and remembered it the next time I resisted what is actually trying to uplift me.

One of the best ways we can surrender is to feel safe in our form and trusting of our own guidance. Curious? Sit In Your Center is a great place to start.

Small Kindnesses by Danusha Laméris

I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you”
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying.
And sometimes, when you spill lemons
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other.
We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile
at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.
We have so little of each other, now. So far
from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange.
What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these
fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here,
have my seat,” “Go ahead — you first,” “I like your hat.”

Did you know it’s independent bookstore weekend?

• The Bookshop is offering free shipping April 29 + 30th. You can pick up any book & the link (affiliate) does go to some of my recommendations. Support local!