Angels are everywhere!
The Wisdom of a Child
By Christine Blake
There is a special blessing within children, a spiritual openness that often fades as we age. I learned from my son to look for angels everywhere, and he taught me this when he was just two.
It was just before Christmas, and my son, Camden, and I had gone to one of the paint-your-own ceramic stores to finger-paint coaster sets for the grandparents. As we left, I heard a friend from inside the store calling after her three year old who darted out of the door before her. Instinctively, I turned to grab the child. As I did, Camden ran out into the parking lot.
Cars passed between us in both directions so that I could not see him. I screamed, or I think I screamed as I watched cars hide my son from my view. When the cars parted, I ran through the traffic to find him safely on an island in the parking lot. After assuring he was whole and recovering my own breath, we went home and I thanked God for the safety of my son.
A few days later, as I read him the First Christmas Story, Camden pointed at the first page with a picture of the Angel Gabriel and asked, “Wha’s that?”
“An angel”, I answered and continued reading the book.
“Angel pick me up”, he interrupted again and pointed passionately at the picture in the book.
Brushing it off and wanting to get back to our story, I quickly said, “Yes, sometimes when we fall down, angels pick us up.”
But Camden had lost interest in the story and he persisted in telling me again, “Angel pick me up,” pointing at the picture in front of me.
“Ok” I said, again wanting to move on.
At this point, frustrated with his limited vocabulary and my lack of understanding, Camden climbed out of bed and went over to his match-box cars. He brought two back and ran them together on the head board and explained as best a two year old can, “Cars go boom. Angel pick me up.”
Finally, through the blindness that comes with adulthood, the “ah-ha” came like a flash. I asked about our trip to the ceramic store and him running into traffic, if that was the memory he was trying to show me. He smiled and pointed at Gabriel again saying, “angel”, knowing I had at last understood what he was telling me.
Sometimes it takes a small child to point out the big mysteries around us. I looked up toward the heavens and quietly said, “OK, I believe.” Camden in the meantime had regained interest in the rest of the story and eagerly turned the page as I read on...