Angels Unwares

Friday afternoon
I do not think it coincidental that certain acquaintances—you know, those ones that you have pretty much pegged as to personality and role in your life because you only see them in specific settings—suddenly surprise you by revealing a wholly new and different side.


While making a stop at a bank this morning, I greeted, quickly and in passing, someone I kind of knew in a community organization. I was just being "nice" by saying hello. In short, this was someone I do not know terribly well and only have the lightest of interaction with on any random day of the year.


To my surprise, this person started chatting vigorously, first about small things such as running errands, and then leapfrogging to larger topics. In a few seconds, we were having a quick, intense discussion about time, about personal possessions and their ultimate meaninglessness ("I still have my father's 8th grade report card," the individual, probably on the other side of 65, said), and about death and dying. All upbeat, all surprisingly simpatico with my own views, and none of it what I would have expected from such a brief encounter from someone I really didn't know. 


We parted on exuberant terms, each of us buoyed the way you in the way you are when you have a discussion—with a stranger, an acquaintance, a friend—that touches you deeply. 


As I walked home, I found myself thinking of the Bible verse about entertaining angels. "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares." (Hebrews 13:2) I do not believe I was chatting with an angel back at the bank, but I would not discount the encounter having been blessed with the brush of angels' wings. I imagined a few downy feathers drifting down over us, not unlike the tiny ones that connect under out bed when we use the down comforter all winter.


We have been through a lot of changes and challenges around here lately. While most of them have been positive, all of them have added to the already full pace of our lives. Add to that the two holiday concerts, approaching with the deliberate acceleration of a steam locomotive, and you have a pretty good picture of where Warren and I are these days.


While I write this, sitting at the kitchen table, Warren is expected through the door shortly, so we can go volunteer (for the Symphony) at an annual pig roast put on by our senior organization, Council for Older Adults. From there, we are slipping down to Columbus for the first of the summer movie series. Tonight, it is "Casablanca," a film I love. As I write this, I can glance over and see a stack of notes on a very special project I plan on starting this weekend. And as I write this, my son Sam is in a car somewhere between there and here on his way to Ohio.


Last summer, I also wrote about angels, angels with big feet. Hump, diddywim tum...Hump, bump, stunt. I wrote that I could use some of the angels shaking things up in my life.


One of my big footed angels is on his way home right now. 

All the Angels

He ordered his angels

to guard you wherever you go.

If you stumble, they'll catch you;

their job is to keep you from falling.

                          Psalm 91:11 (The Message)

Walking downtown in the humid, sultry air last week, I kept my eyes cast down. It was already hot. It was only 10:15 a.m. My mind was on the heat.

I don't do well in heat. I was definitely not in the moment.

When I walk along in that mood, I am absent. I miss the little threads that make up the tapestry of the world: a cardinal alighting on the tree branch, a spray of petunias blooming despite the heat. Small moments whisper by me and I don't even catch them.

All the same, I snapped out of my trance long enough to notice the battered concrete planter sitting cockeyed on the downtown sidewalk. It was full only of foxtail grasses and a weed or two. Clearly no one had tended it this summer. I couldn't even tell if it belonged to anyone.

Just a weedy, discarded, beat up and battered planter. But it had cherubs cast onto its surface.

A whole planter full of angels!

A lot of us could use a planter full of angels, never mind the weeds. I could use a planter full of angels.

In recent weeks, there has been a whole lot of taking care of others going on in our household. I am helping an elderly family member through some major medical appointments. Amy's already precarious living conditions imploded and there have been several crises. (We hope she will be joining our household soon.) Warren is shepherding Season 33 onto the main stage while tending to a myriad of other demands and needs, including two rehearsals and a concert this weekend with another group in a town an hour from here. Sam leaves this Wednesday morning and we are trying to cram in just a little more time together before I put him on an airplane back to Oregon. I have missed him deeply this past school year and will miss him again this coming one. I miss my older son, Ben, and my daughter-in-law, Alise, deeply; this weekend was their wedding anniversary. 2500 miles away, I am too far out of the fabric of all of their daily lives and am feeling that distance keenly.

I am feeling stretched thin. I am feeling worn down. The heat has finally broken, so I can't blame it today as I type, but it certainly has played a role.

I don't know. Like I said, I could use a bucketful of angels.

Composer Lukas Foss wrote a percussion concerto titled "All the Angels Have Big Feet." This line was taken from lines by Ezra Pound:

All the angels have big feet.

Hump, diddywim tum .... Hump, bump, stunt.

I'd never heard of Lukas Foss. My eye had caught the concerto title in an article Warren was reading and the image has stuck with me.

All the angels have big feet.

I could use some angels with big feet right about now. I want some big footed angels stomping around, shaking the ground, shaking up things right now. I need some angels leaving big footprints as they tread firmly through my life right now.

All the angels have big feet.

Saturday a week ago Sam spent the afternoon with me baking. (Yeah, yeah, I know. It was hot. Even with the air on. And we had the kitchen heated up for baking?) He made two pies, one apple, one key lime meringue. I introduced Sam to yeast dough and he made a deep dish pizza that was just excellent. Tomorrow when he comes over we plan on making mozzarella cheese and pasta. In the evening, I hope the three of us go to a favorite ice cream stand, about 20 miles from here, and sit on the steps of the nearby church with our sodas and our sundaes. Maybe we'll talk. Maybe we'll just watch the village life all around us.

Any time I spend with Sam is a gift to me. We have seen him only in spurts as he visits with this friend and that friend. All these weeks, we have been ready with a meal and a bed as he has come and gone. I have mended his clothes, done some of his laundry, and given him rides. Tomorrow we will cook and share a meal and maybe an ice cream cone.

"Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, 

for thereby some have entertained angels unawares." 

Hebrews 13:2 (KJV)

Sam is no stranger, but his feet are good sized, in keeping with his 6'4" frame.

All the angels have big feet.