I have long pondered the question of whether angels exist. I have certainly had the sensation that someone or something was "watching over me." It may be the only plausible explanation for surviving several incredibly stupid youthful exploits.
In my mind's eye, I picture angels as the spirits of those loving friends and family who have passed on to whatever lies beyond. There is one person I often picture, someone whose love and friendship saved my life, and whose time on this earth was much too short. I also picture the playful ghosts of my beloved pups, Rusty and Shaggy, dancing around the yard with glee.
Yet I'm unwilling to rule out that it's not all just dumb luck. How else can you explain the seemingly random nature of tragedy. I am certainly no more deserving than so many others who have passed on. The idea that it's all part of some master plan defies my personal sense of logic.
But this morning I drove to Durham to pick up my wife's wallet, which she had left at the bagel shop, found that not a cent was missing, and decided that the angels have been here all along. They are in the actions of the kind staff of the bagel shop who safeguarded her wallet, and the anonymous customer who turned it in.
We are surrounded by so much suffering and violence, so it's easy to forget the abundant kindness that exists in the world. Each of us practices it everyday without thinking. We are often reminded on Facebook and in sanctuaries that we should be kind to others. But I'm convinced it's our natural tendency. I think what's more important is to notice that others are kind, frequently and excessively, because it's all too easy to forget and focus on the evil.
Are there winged cherubim flitting amongst the clouds? I have no clue, and don't mind waiting a while to find out.
But I'm now convinced that there are angels among us, and maybe that's enough.
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