An Angel Named Amos

Some years ago, I wrote a personal essay about Barry and a horse named Amos. I sent this essay to a company that published anthologies on various subjects. I hoped my story would make it into a book, The Cup of Comfort for Horse Lovers edited by Colleen Sell.

When I received the acceptance letter, I was overjoyed. I knew this book would be widely read as were all the The Cup of Comfort books. It was published in 2008. Little did I know that my husband would die in 2009.

My story was about Barry and how he became deeply depressed after he had heart surgery. That was not unusual, I learned, but I could not find a way to bring back the man I knew and loved. While he was recuperating, trapped at home with nothing to do all day, I saw the sadness that slowly sapped his enjoyment of life.  

We had both had horses at one time and loved riding until Barry found he loved golf more. But he could not play golf while healing. I did not want him to do anything but take it easy and get well. Barry, however, had a different idea in mind. 

BARRY BEALL ON THE FARM IN GEORGIA

My story in Cup of Comfort for Horse Lovers is inspiring and touching. In the book, the title was changed to An Angel Named Amos, and rightfully so. Barry was pleased to be the subject of a published story. 

The book is out of print now, but used copies of it are practically free on Amazon. It can be purchased for your Kindle. I think you can get a used paperback for just the cost of shipping. 

http://www.amazon.com/Cup-Comfort-Horse-Lovers/dp/1440505799/ref=tmm_hrd_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=

Click on the link above and get yourself a copy. All the stories in the book are uplifting and interesting, whether or not you love horses. I'd love for you to read how Amos changed our lives.

I'd appreciate your thoughts on my story and on the book.

Melissa, the Hospice Nurse

Melissa is a nurse with compassion and a great heart. She cared for both Barry and me for several days. I watched her tenderly wipe his brow with a damp wash cloth and carefully re-position his head on the pillow. She sometimes sat beside me and hugged me as I wept.
How does she do this day after day, I wonder. Her business is smoothing the journey of the dying as they travel on to another realm.But she also tends the living who stay behind and grieve.
I could never do what she does, but I am oh, so thankful that she can do it.
Melissa made up for my frustration in dealing with a medical world that no one could understand. I told her she was, indeed, an angel of mercy.
She told me that I had inspired her. How could that be? I saw nothing in what I was going through that could inspire anyone.
"You have inspired me, " she said, " because I see the love you have for your husband, and although I've seen many people pass through this place, I've never been touched by anyone as I have you. I have been married twenty years, and I hope I can love my husband as much as you love Barry."

We never know what our actions say to others even in the most difficult times. I saw myself desperately trying to help my husband transcend this world in peace, to be relieved of suffering, and to know he could leave me with no fear for my well-being. I agonized over my decisions and begged doctors to help me make them. I'd never have thought of myself as inspiring.