Blue people? Blue people? are you kidding me?
Darryl was sick. He was taking experimental medication for a brain tumor. The tumor was gone. They had removed it in surgery and it didn’t come back, but they insisted he needed to take medication or it would. And anything was preferable to death by brain tumor.
I am sure it was killing him.
Not the tumor. The medication.
He would not get out of bed, even though he was perfectly capable of it. He spit his food at me when I tried to get him to eat. He rambled on about things that made no sense. He said a little girl in a white dress was in the room. He said his brother was sitting in the rocking chair next to him.
All that I could handle, somehow, even though it was devastating to me. At least it seemed within the parameters or normality—for a brain tumor.
But when he told me not to worry because the four blue people would take care of me, I lost it.
I told him I was leaving him. I packed a small bag and drove to the pier—my place of sanctuary. I called a good friend and she talked me down. How could I leave him in this condition? He needed me. He could not take care of himself. After 27 years of marriage, it was my duty to be at his side.
So I went back.
Two weeks later, he died. I won’t bore you with the details except to say this, he died in his sleep and I was in his arms.
It wasn’t until a year later that I remembered something a pastor friend said to me.
He was in my kitchen long before Darryl even got sick. He told me I had four angels. I asked him to describe them and, in truth, all I remember was that one was female and she was small. I think the others were male, but there was nothing out of the ordinary about the description—at least for angels—because I am sure I would remember it if there had been.
So what did that have to do with blue people?
Well maybe nothing.
But there were four.
I looked up blue people online. I found a reference to people with odd bluish skin living in Kentucky.
I didn’t think that had much bearing on my question.
I also found a reference to Atlantis. There was a race of blue people—tall, intelligent, blue skinned. Interesting. As I kept looking, I found stories—many stories—of people who saw other-worldly beings with glowing blue skin. In every story, these were good beings who brought wisdom and enlightenment. Hmmm.
I have no answers. Not definitive ones, anyway. But I do know this; Since my husband passed away, I have had help. I like concrete answers, even if they are spiritual ones. But, I know I can’t always get them. Or sometimes I have to wait patiently for them to come.
In the meantime, I know there is someone, or someones helping me. I see it nearly every day. I think of things I desire and they come to pass. I ask for signs of encouragement and they appear. It’s like the universe is aligning itself on my behalf. I do believe in God and I do think He is the Creator of all that we know. But I do not always understand the channels God uses to help us. Some people talk about angels they have seen. Some talk about spirit guides or good energy. Apparently, I have Blue People. And for now, that’s ok with me.