On a downtown street in Annapolis hand-knitted scarves are tethered around trees and telephone poles.  Each bears a small card that reads:

“I am not lost.  I was handmade for you.  If you are cold and in need, please take me.”  —  Naptown Knitters

In a chilly wintry wind, these colorful scarfs offer warmth – and hope – fashioned by the hands of angels.

Such helpers are the hope of our communities.

Along the road to recovery – both my son’s and mine – were many helpers:

• Jacob’s friends who first alerted the teacher that Jacob was in trouble.
• The teacher who then alerted me.
• The counselor who warned against coddling and taught me a new term, “enabling,” but with such gentleness and patience it stung less.
• The counselor who broke through my silence and shame and said, “Your son will have his own program. What are you going to do for yours?”
• My boss who understood silence and stood by ready with support.
• My work colleagues who guessed my pain and helped best by staying to their tasks.
• The woman who embraced me at my first Al-Anon meeting with “C’mere, Momma. You need a hug.”
• The sponsor who said “yes” to Jacob, and stayed close for years
• The sponsor who said “yes” to me, and remains close today.

As Mister Rogers recalled his mother’s words, when things are scary…”Look for the helpers.  You will always find people who are helping.”

Today, as Jacob celebrates nine years in recovery, and I as well, I hope we may be among them.