05.23.94
We can heal our angels’ wings
God gave me the privilege of being Tashia’s foster mom. Tashia gave me privilege of being her angelmom — forever-and-ever. Tashia died. She died because she was ignored. Tashia died of AIDS from sexual abuse.
Before Tashia came to live with us, her angel-wings were damaged. Despite many abuse reports, many abusers, many STD’s, and even with AIDS, the Florida “system” returned Tashia to an environment that killed her. A civil suit will soon decide if that system’s negligence contributed to her death by ignoring her cries for help.
As you read her story, please remember that Tashia’s two years with my husband Carl and I were a miracle. This is a story of rebirth, a story of celebration. This is the story of an angel whose wings were allowed to heal.
When my husband Carl and I brought Tashia home she was full of rage, covered with scars and bleeding sores, fearfully hid in closets, sucked her thumb, had undiagnosed multiple personalities (”Rage” destroyed her bedroom twice), hurt herself because voices told her she was bad, hoarded food under her mattress, and did not know who God was. She was broken in body, mind and soul — BUT THEY DID NOT BREAK HER SPIRIT.
In my opinion, she did not have to die — but her cries for help were ignored until it was too late: she was ignored, abandoned and erased. No one else would take her, but God had spoken to our hearts. How else would I have been able to work full-time, go to college full-time, care for my mom with Alzheimer’s, and care for this dying child? Obviously I have an amazing husband - that’s another story!
The sexual abuse by many men was not all this child suffered. When she finally learned to trust us, she told us stories no adult should have to hear, let alone a child experience. Stories of punishment: burning stovetops, baking ovens, closets with ropes and gags and chairs, choking cords, and never anywhere to hide — or anyone to listen.
You can imagine how hard this made Tashia’s care. For the first time in her life she was SAFE and happy, only to be dying a horrible, painful death. I’m often asked how we could even think of taking in a dying child, a child with AIDS.
If only they could have listened to her prayers, praying to a God she didn’t know before she came to us (she was baptized her first Easter Sunday). If only they could have heard her almost endless list of “Thank you Gods,” and her “Please Gods” as she asked His help for others. Then they would have seen her look at me and say, “Mommy, you make my heart sing!”
Not only would be KNOW why we did it, they would morn the lost privilege of knowing Tashia. But sadly, there are many wounded angels in our world, waiting for their wings to be healed.
How do you TEACH anyone (let alone a child) to die? Tashia didn’t know she was dying. She knew she had a disease that wouldn’t go away and we spoke to her often about God, Heaven, and about the fact that all of us die. But SHE told us at the end.
Tashia couldn’t wait to see God. She trusted God and her parents so totally that before she died she said to me: “Mommy, I hurt so bad, I want to see God, please help me die.” She was afraid that if she wasn’t Tashia Shipley we would not be able to find her in heaven.
Man’s laws would not allow us to adopt her; but God’s law said Tashia could choose. So our priest had a sacred adoption around her bed and Tashia chose us to be her mommy and daddy “for ever and ever”. I will never know a happier moment, while I am alive. She relaxed then; she was safe.
Relaxing was hard for Tashia; for our two years she was allergic to all of the opiates. So all she had for pain relief was Tylenol, our prayers and meditations, the sound of my voice soothing her, and the touch of hands constantly massaging her body. One night after her prayers she told me, “Mommy, I’m afraid, I don’t know how to get to Heaven.”
“Sweetheart, I haven’t been there either. But remember when I told you about your surgery? That you would hurt; you would go to sleep and not feel a thing. Then when you woke up you wouldn’t remember anything and mommy would be there holding your hand.
Mommy told the truth didn’t she? Well, I think dying is like that. One day you will say ‘God I don’t want to hurt anymore, please take me to heaven.’ And He will put his hand where it hurts; you will go to sleep. You won’t remember anything and when you wake up God will be holding your hand instead of mommy.” She smiled and relaxed; she trusted me, and God, so completely.
I believe that it happened exactly the way I told her, because twelve hours later she chose to go to heaven. She was not alone or afraid. She died in absolute peace, with God’s smile on her face.
That night I sat up and wrote her the letter which you can
read by reading ‘A letter to God’s newest angel’. http://angelaid.com/tome/1994/03/10/a-letter-to-gods-newest-angel/
