I was mowing the church lawn, an acre and a half, this afternoon. Big riding mower that makes a terrific clatter, so I had on a bright orange helmet that has those ear protection devices on them. You clamp them on and you can’t hear a thing. But you can think.
I was cogitating. Contemplating. And as I did so, I teared up. In fact, I could hardly see where I was going. I do this now and then. Driving down the highway and something hits me and I get momentary blurry vision. In this case the cause was the mindless tune of a song that has a refrain that goes “Calling all Angels….”. I don’t even know any other words to the song.
I got to thinking about Angels. I got to thinking about the verse in Hebrews that talks about entertaining angels unaware (a good reason to practice hospitality). And then I got to thinking about our situation with Cammie and how we have been blessed with all sorts of angels. Not angels “unaware”, but angels we are wonderfully aware of.
I know Judy has her own list. Here are just a few on mine
Bill Eubanks is our pastor, but he freelances as an angel on the side. Every single time we have had any sort of an issue with Cammie, the first call I get is from Bill. He always wants to do something, as if his words of encouragement are somehow insufficient. And, voila, Fran, his wife, comes over with dinner. Or he comes to the hospital. Once, a couple of years ago, he drove all the way to Houston and was there when Cammie came out of surgery. Surprised us all, but that is what angles do. And then drove the 4 hours back to Dallas that same afternoon.
And then there are the Blacks, Bob and Linda. We have known them for 20 years or so now. Bob was a VP with Exxon in Houston and took an early retirement to be of service to the Kingdom, particularly sharing his expertise with missions, much of that with Wycliffe. They have a nice home in Bellaire. Bellaire happens to be ten minutes from the Medical Center in Houston. The Black’s doors have been open…wide open. In fact, they gave us a key to their home and we stay there on our frequent runs to Houston. I have not had a single conversation with Bob when he has not said, “I prayed for Cammie this morning.”. I am telling you they are living, breathing angles,
Shirley Perkins would tell you she is no angel. But she is lying (I had no idea angels lie). At every surgery she organizes food. She is a real good organizer. She hovers around the kitchen waving her magic spatula. Food appears
Gary Shepherd is another one. He always has a quiet word from the Word. He does not say much. Doesn’t have to. He has been through so much pain in his life he knows exactly what we are going through. He is just there.
Then there are the angels who live afar. Tickie McKee, the mother of our friend Rob from Africa days, sends us a missive each time we send an update out by email. They are masterpieces. Crafted, packed with wisdom—angel balm.
And there are angels who live near. The nearest one I know is Judy. She is amazing, juggling home, business (she does our accounting), family as well as being doctor mom. Like another angel I knew (her mom) she has abounding patience, and loads of love, a never ending supply of which she sprinkles liberally on all who pass near. You should be so lucky as to pass near.
It is not the “angels unaware” that caused my tears. It is the host of angles I am aware of that did.
(And there are a lot more of them I did not mention. But they don’t mind because they are…angels.)