All About You FRIDAY – Deus Ex Machina

It’s 5:33 a.m. and I am writing from a very fancy hotel in Indianapolis with a corner room view of the city. Today, I am honored to be a presenter at the 2025 EMS World Expo, a gathering of first responders including classes, demonstrations and a large exhibit hall. I am honored to be here, but my mind is back home, with my 85-year old neighbor who is at the mercy of the system who has deemed her unable to make her own decisions. Her fate now lies in the hands of family who are distant and uninterested who triggered an APS investigation.

“Have you talked to her?!” I asked the social worker. She assured me she has but things are “complicated”.

“I will not go into a nursing home,” she says. “I don’t eat condiments and I only use olive oil and lemon on my salads. And not that fake stuff from the bottle,” she adds. She asks me about all our neighbors every time I visit and when we were talking this week about celebrating Christmas, I asked her if she preferred artificial or live trees. She gave me a look that would make all of you laugh.

“Artificial?! Come on,” she said as she wrinkled her brow and frowned. “I always bought my trees from that place on the corner of John R and Wattles. And I take my time! It has to be perfect.”

Sounds like a bunch of decisions were made right there. She is more than capable.

Before we left town to come here, we stopped in for a visit.

“What are you girls doing here at this hour?” she asked as her face lit up. We told her about our trip to Indianapolis and caught her up on some of her bills. We shared a few laughs and I cleaned up her space a little. “Can I give you some money for the trip?” she asked. She is very sweet that way. I gave her a hug and felt her small frame in my arms for what might be the last time in a while.

On our way out the door, we were told we were no longer allowed to visit. The APS investigation deems only family is allowed to see her. Which means she will not get visits at all. We were lucky to have seen her as many times as we did before they told us.

My heart is aching.

I am praying for a miracle. For weeks we have envisioned her return home as we worked on cleaning up and renovating her house. We talked about the celebration we would have complete with all of her favorite foods: Pizza, tabbouli, pistachios, lamb and salad with olive oil and real lemon squeezed on top. And we anticipated her joy and excitement as we gave her the grand tour.

We need a deus ex machina.

“God from a Machine” is a plot mechanism originating in ancient Greek plays where an actor playing a god would be lowered from a crane onto the stage to untangle a messy situation in the final scene. An external force fixing a situation that seems impossible. Like in E.G. Well’s War of the Worlds where the aliens attacking the earth are suddenly annihilated by a common bacteria that mysteriously popped up.

Some people don’t like the use of deux ex machina in movies because the ending seems implausible. But, that’s what a miracle is, isn’t it?

I’ve been in several situations before in my life where I felt like there was nothing left for me to do, where despite my efforts to fix things, it looked like my world might crumble. Times when my business looked like it was going to fail despite my efforts. Or when I stared at the ceiling after I was widowed wondering what my next move was supposed to be. Or when I had to make the decision to put my son in a group home. Big moments. Hard moments.

In those times when my back was to the wall with nothing left to do, I cried out to the heavens. In retrospect, each time I should have cried out sooner. In the end, some miracle took place and things ended up better than I expected.

When I had to let it all go, a miracle happened.

I am tapping into that today on behalf of my neighbor. My God doesn’t have to be lowered from a machine. He is always here…just waiting for me to get out of the way. Sometimes I think things like this happen to remind me of that.

Pray for a deux ex machina. Or just send up a prayer for my neighbor. I hope all of our prayers light a fire under her to fight for her rights and stave away the loneliness. Until we meet again.

It’s been a long week. Don’t forget to celebrate. Yes, even now. Celebrate.

Until next time…