Myndi and I often speculate that perhaps our own lives seem to halt, stall, and sputter in such frustrating ways because we’ve been lending our angels to others. Certainly it’s taken an crack-team of angels to get lil’ e through these past few years.  Lately, since things are looking up for her, I’ve been praying that her angels will lend a hand to a little friend of hers.  This kid was way too young to be dealing with the kind of mess she had gotten tangled in, and it looked like she was short of reliable, understanding adults.  Myndi and I had been plotting for weeks to get this kid some help, but we simply couldn’t get our hands on her.  She was always grounded.  Finally – finally! – she was able to join her friends for an overnight, the angels got their act together, and without any help from any adults… the whole thing sorted itself out.

When they all came for a visit Christmas-eve afternoon, I was so happy I kept having to go into the kitchen to cry.  Instead of sitting a little girl down for a very scary grownup talk, I handed her a cookie and a bucket of sidewalk chalk, and all the kids in the neighborhood ended up out on the street, drawing Christmas trees and writing love notes to the neighbors.  Should someone still have that talk with her?  Yes (and certainly E and A will both be getting Useful Books for Young Ladies early in the new year), but it doesn’t have to be on Christmas Eve.  This year, they can still be kids, and I officially believe in Christmas Miracles.  I will take my chances on my own for a week or two; my guardian angels may take a well-deserved holiday.

I imagine them at some sunny seaside, sitting in beach chairs, wingtips tracing idle circles in the sand, clinking tall glasses of frothy something or other and watching the sky turning pink and gold.