Angels

She had been living in an apartment with no electricity for over a month. It was July and hot, especially for Asheville. Jean was riding a streak of bad luck and now this. Her case worker with social services had somehow gotten my name and called me, desperate. The landlord had been patient but it was the end of the month…again. Time to go, and no one to take her. The youth group from Mississippi happened to have a van and a trailer, and we became the moving company. It is hard for me to imagine the indignity of being removed from your home. Somehow, Jean went about the task with gratitude toward us and grace in general. Three neighbor girls watched our carrying and loading from a distance. Turns out they were her twilight companions, coming by most evenings for visits and smores from her small charcoal grill, her only means of cooking. I could see the hurt and confusion on their faces that day. Jean pulled them close and assured them she would be back to see them, giving each of them some special comment. “Angels,” she said, “you are my angels.” Then we all stood in a circle, held hands and prayed, thanking God for sending us angels.