“To me, it feels as if this day is made for me not to remember the mighty, the company of heaven, so much as the unknown angels in this world, those who work quietly and almost invisibly to help others and to advance the kingdom of God, no matter how hard and how dangerous that particular ministry is.”
We tell the story, or cherish the memory, consecrating that moment in time, instead of recognizing that all of time is consecrated, and what set those times apart was the opening of our eyes.
May we all be drawn there, too. Drawn toward the Love that turned and slept in his mother’s arms. Love that offers us everything and demands from us everything in return. Love that stands against principalities and powers
This originally appeared as part of the Daily Sip, a ministry of St John’s Cathedral in Denver, CO by Charles LaFond Blue
Sometimes, when looking at the ceiling of the cathedral, I wonder if those slight marks are smudges left by our angel wings. I wonder what soars up there, like an upside-down water fall, as we pray together. I wonder if the tips of our wings brush the stone. I think they do.
The National Gallery in the UK is producing a series of short videos on angels based on paintings in their collection. They are a delightful exploration of the meaning and presence of angels in art and in the psyche.
…it is as if God reaches for us in every single moment, whispering, “Come back. Come back to me. You are beautiful beyond measure, and you are meant for me. Your essence is to expand, like the tiny tendrils of trees, into the heaven of my love.”
The memory of my ordinary angels has stayed with me. I suspect that neither of them know they were my angels, but they couldn’t have been more heaven sent if they had had wings and halos.