Grace as Jewelry

Of course, I finally lost them. I hid them so well I could no longer find them.

I cried and then I cried and then I cried.

They were gone – out into the ether of wherever lost relics go, my earrings, my Grail. And so, I stopped looking for angels, but the piece of me that is made of God kept praying, without thought, without hope.

Yesterday, they came back. I don’t know how, know from where, know what happened, but I do know that she brought them back to me. Three weeks ago I moved into a new house. The dresser that had seen me through the last five years and four moves, that had been emptied and filled and shaken and dropped – bare and blank as any cipher, became full. I opened the top drawer to put away clothes, and there, by themselves, in their own burgundy bag, were the earrings.

My thoughts of heaven and angels had become vague and unsure. Angels became lawn ornaments and lapel pins. But those guardians of my childhood came back to me yesterday.

And again –

I cried.

I cried.

I cried.

This time the tears were because I knew that my angels had never really gone away. They protect me now. They will protect me always. And I don’t need the earrings as proof anymore. But I will keep them, wear them and love the angel that gave them to me.

Twice.