As we travel from one year to the next, the sights we see and the events that unfold, surround, and impact us change; some are positive and some are negative; some profound and others mundane. Whatever the new year brings, the angels that dwell within us will guide our attitude and disposition through whatever turn the clock of time spins for us. They guide us to choose smiles over tears and effort over complaint and regret.
This week I’ve chosen a tale authored by Mary Stewart as a wonderful means of thinking of this coming year as more than just a mortal stage whose beyond our control props we must maneuver. Rather, this new year offers us an opportunity to be born again into a new year and a new world – a world of the sacred that dwells within us all…our better angels, if you will.
Five little angels perched upon the golden bar of Paradise peering down curiously at the world below.
“See it shine in the sunshine, like a ball of fire!” cried one.
“See it dance around like this—” exclaimed another, springing off the bar and flying around in a circle.
“Look at the gay colors, like broken bits of a rainbow!’ cried the third. “They must be the earth’s flowers. I like them better than the flowers of Paradise, all gold and silver!”
“Do you see those tiny white spots?” asked the fourth. “St. Joan of Arc told me those were flocks of sheep. They are so sweet, she says. She took care of them when she was a shepherdess upon the earth.”
“Listen, listen!” cried the fifth. “That’s a sound we never hear in Paradise! What is it?”
They all listened, their bright angel faces growing puzzled and troubled.
It was the sound of a child crying.
“Oh let us fly right down to him and comfort him!” cried one.
“Yes, let us tell him that Heaven is near and angels are guarding him and let us take him a little star for a present!” suggested another.
“We have no feet; we could not walk upon the earth and he might not know how to play with us,” objected the third.
“Look!” cried the fourth. “It is growing dark upon the earth; there are clouds around it hiding the stars. There must be many children who are afraid or lonely, for listen, now!”
The sobs and whimpers of many children rose to their ears. Perhaps the happy children were all asleep, for there was no sound of laughter or singing.
“Come, come!” cried the fifth little angel. “Let us fly to Gabriel, the guardian of the angels’ nursery. He loves all small things, babies and angels, and he will give us feet so that we can run upon the earth and play with the lonely children.”
Gabriel was bending over a great bed of silver lilies when the five angels came flying toward him. They were all talking at once.
“Please, dear Gabriel, we want to fly down to earth!”
“Oh, give us some little legs and feet that we may play in the meadows with the earth children who are crying!”
“We want to tell the lonely children that Heaven is close to them always!”
“Ah, Gabriel, listen to the weeping children and send us right down to them that we may make them smile.”
The little angels fluttered about the big beautiful one, who stood straight and shining as a great lily himself, his wings folded like closed petals.
“Little angels, listen,” he said, and his voice was music. “It is a long, dangerous journey which you wish to take. It is hard to live on the earth and remain an angel. Every time you are cross or selfish a feather from your wings will fly back to Paradise. If you lose them all you will never be able to return. The children below need you, but those who need you the most do not live in green fields and tend the sheep; they live in ugly cities, in houses where the sun seldom find his way. Can you keep your golden smiles and your angel wings there?”
“Yes, yes, dear Gabriel! Listen to these sad sounds, and help us to hurry away!”
Out of the golden box where gifts for newborn babies are kept Gabriel took five pairs of small legs and feet. The toes were all pink and dimpled and the five angels were filled with delight. They put them on and danced about, clapping their hands and fluttering their wings.
“All the children upon the earth will be dancing like this before we come home!” they cried. Now, dear Gabriel, are we ready?”
Gabriel stooped over and kissed each one upon his forehead.
“Keep the blue of the skies in your eyes, the light of Heaven in your smiles and love in your hearts!” he said.
“Farewell, farewell!” they cried. “Here is a shining cloud to carry us down. Watch us and listen; you will hear no sounds of tears tomorrow night!”
But alas! The little angels were so excited over their journey and the strange sights of the world that they kept putting off the work they had come to do.
Reaching the earth just as the sun rose they fell into a meadow full of daisies and buttercups. Of course they had to try their new feet, dancing over the flowers; they had to answer the calls of the birds, and gaze at their own reflections in the pool. By that time they were tired–a feeling they had never known in Paradise–and they lay down in the long grass to sleep. When they woke the moon was shining and the only sound they heard was “Kerchonk! Kerchonk!” from the gay young frogs. Laughing with merriment they ran to the stream and waded down it, splashing their pink toes in the silver water and imitating the frogs.
So the days went by. Their wings were invisible to the people of the world and passersby thought them merely beautiful children, the most beautiful they had ever seen. For a time the angels were not hungry for our kind of food and when they were they walked boldly up to a palace and asked for part of the feast that was going on.
“What princely children!” exclaimed the guests. “Your family of course?” they asked the old King.
Now the old King had had very ugly, disagreeable children who had grown up and had equally hideous and cross children of their own. He was delighted with the looks of the little angels in the starry clothes and was glad to receive them as part of the royal family. They were given all the sweets they could eat, crowns were placed upon their heads, and at first they had a splendid time. Then they were put in charge of teachers who tried to make them study out of dull books.
“We know more than any books; have we not come from Paradise?” they asked each other. They tore up the books and stamped upon them and, all unnoticed by them, a few feathers flew back to Heaven.
Then their star robes grew dingy and the old King, who spoiled them and let them have whatever they wished, ordered the finest clothes in the kingdom made for them.
Proudly the angels strutted around in purple and gold, eating the richest food, playing all the time and never contented. Every day feathers drifted back to Gabriel’s garden, but the angels did not mind.
“Wings are of no use to us here,” they said. “We can have whatever we want and when we wish to return to Paradise we will.”
They had forgotten the lonely children they came to play with, the frightened, sick children they had longed to comfort.
One day, discontented with everything, they were playing in the royal garden at sunset.
“These roses have thorns on them!” cried one angel pulling an enormous crimson rose to bits.
“Those lilies don’t stand straight!” scolded another, tearing down a splendid white lily.
“This butterfly won’t stay still long enough to let me catch him!” complained the third.
“Look at this one; it is far bigger and I will catch it!” cried the fourth. He chased the gorgeous black and orange butterfly over the garden, trampling down whole beds of fragrant flowers as he ran.
“Ah see, I have it!” he cried. “It shall follow me wherever I go!”
He opened his clenched hand in which he had crushed the poor butterfly. Its wings were broken and its color rubbed. It crawled painfully over the angel’s hand, and the child began to cry. They were the first tears an angel had ever shed, and the others looked bewildered and frightened. Suddenly they remembered when they had heard a child cry before. It was in Paradise when, leaning over the golden bar, they had heard the lonely earth children and had longed to comfort them.
“We had wings once too,” cried an angel. “We have lost them like this butterfly, and we are not of any use either!”
The littlest angel began to cry also.
“I want to fly back to Paradise!” he sobbed. “We are all too little to be left here alone.”
In a bed of lilies they all gathered, watering the crushed flowers with their tears. They were lonely and ashamed. “What must Gabriel think of us now?” they wailed.
Then the fifth angel sprang up.
“Tears don’t help a bit!” he cried. “We are still angels and there are many children who need us. We cannot go back to Paradise, but listen to me. We can make the world so like Heaven that we won’t be lonely here anymore!”
“Let us start right off!” cried the other angels, struggling to their feet.
“Brave little angels! What will they do next?” asked Gabriel, looking down upon them and smiling.
Out through the garden gates in the moonlight the five ran, and as they thought again their angel thoughts, tiny wings began to sprout from their shoulders. No one saw the wings, at least no grown-up person did. But perhaps you have seen them. I am sure you have hear them fluttering near you!
For from that moment the angels lived with the children of the earth. They sought them far and near. Whenever a child is ill, wherever a child is lonely or sorrowful, one of the five little angels is by his her side in a flash, bringing smiles and laughter to their eyes instead of tears. We hear their angel voices in the songs of the happy children; we see the five little angels in the eyes that dream, in smiles of love and of courage everywhere.
Their wings are quite grown out now; they could fly back to Paradise if they wished, but they are so blissful in bringing Heaven to the children of the earth that they never think of leaving.
“Dear little angels,” said Gabriel watching and listening. “May the blessing of Heaven be with you day and night!”
No evil shall befall you, nor shall affliction come near your tent, for to His Angels God has given command about you, that they guard you in all your ways. Upon their hands they will bear you up, lest you dash your foot against a stone. – Psalm 91: 10-12
Have an AWE-full Weekend!
William “Bill” Bacque