I believe in angels. I suppose many people do, yet I have a suspicion that folks divide when it comes to job descriptions. 

 

Some subscribe to the Security Guard model. The cherub on duty peruses a dozen monitors at once. He or she is loosely aware of the comings and goings of the earthlings in his or her care, and if any trouble flares up sends in a deputy. 

 

Others lean toward the Roman Gladiator format. Heavenly hosts watch us from the stands, cheering when we conquer the lions in our lives, and heaving a collective groan when we are devoured. 

 

Then there is the Disneyland prototype. These attendants are cordial enough, willing to give us directions, pick up our trash and explain the rules, but they do not go so far as to know our names. And if you come back two hours later there is a different shift working. 

 

I heard about a cave in New Mexico that is a popular hang out for bats. On a given day there will be seven hundred thousand creatures there. At night the moms go out to do their bat shopping, leaving a few babysitters behind, and when they return to the vast, inky black cave amidst the swarm of four inch brown balls of fur, each mother manages to find her own baby bat. 

 

I also trust that angels love marriage. They are even more motivated to help us find eternal love than we are, sort of like how I get way more excited about my kids being kind than they are. Just the other day, I was feeling overwhelmed about the children's program I was trying to put on for fifty kids. All the details, and last minute changes were swirling around in my leaky brain.

 

"I am scared that it won't work."

 

"Let's pray, Mom." Hope and Aurelle closed their sweet brown eyes and curled their arms around me. 

 

"Oh Lord, please help Mom to do a good job on this children's program. Help all the kids to have a great time and not get sad or lost. Amen." Wooosh. The anxiety seeped out of me and into the absorbent ground.

 

These are the same girls who pray every night to have good marriages, and be good wives. They just think they are saying an ordinary prayer, but I am moved by their innocence every single night. 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by Jenny Stein

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