An Angel’s Tale

By Lindy Earl

The young angel knew he was ready for his wings.  With determination he approached his father.

“You do know what is required for angels like us to earn our wings,” stated the father.  The young angel wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement, but nodded his understanding.

There were lots of different kinds of angels in heaven, and they all earned their wings different ways.  It seemed to him his were the hardest to earn, but he was ready.  He was a Memory Angel, as were his parents.  Whenever a mortal was feeling bad or having a hard time, memory angels reminded them of nice things that had happened to them.  Some of the memories were easy to invoke, like a new baby or a wedding.  But the most useful memories were nice things that had happened for no obvious reason–someone had done something nice, a random act of kindness.  This is what lead to the requirement for Memory Angels to earn their wings.

A Memory Angel had to find a mortal doing a simple act of kindness.  The young angel’s father said it was easier years before, when he had earned his wings as a young angel.  But it seemed that simple acts of kindness were more rare today.  But the young angel knew he was ready, and he knew it even more strongly whenever he heard a bell ring.  Everyone knew that every time a bell rings an angel gets their wings.

Looking at his son’s determined face, the father said, “If you’re sure, son, I’ll take you down to earth, and we’ll look for some simple acts of kindness.  Do you know where you want to look?”

Oh, the little angel was all ready for this question.  He had thought a lot about what kind of people would do nice things for no reason, and he just knew he needed to go where all the rich people were.  So at his request the two angels set off for a very fancy benefit in one of the biggest cities on the earth, the father carrying the wingless son.

The little angel’s eyes almost popped when he arrived.  The room was very glittery, with lots of gold lamps and candles, even though it was very bright.  The male mortals all wore fancy clothes his father called tuxedoes and the female mortals wore dresses of the brightest colors.  All around their hands and faces they wore shiny stones.  The young angel assumed they were trying to look like cherubim with all that glittery stuff, but he knew cherubim’s glow was from an inner radiance.  All the people talked a lot about how much money they give to poor people, so the young angel knew he had come to the right place.

When a female mortal slipped, causing a tearing sound from her dress, the young angel was ready to watch someone offer assistance, but nobody came forward and the embarrassed mortal left as quickly as she could.  When an older mortal spoke of how much money he gave, others around him smirked.  This wasn’t kindness at all.

The father saw the sad look cross his son’s face and took him out of the room.  “Well, shall we return to heaven now?” he asked.  But the young angel wasn’t ready to admit defeat.  He had more than one idea of where to find kindness.  If rich mortals weren’t being kind, surely the very strong were kind.

The young angel immediately found himself at a quarry–that’s what his father said it was.  There were many male mortals, all trying to break large rocks with picks and axes.  Some of the mortals were tall and strong with big shoulders.  They broke their rocks easily.  Others were different heights and some were very young and obviously not as strong.  The young angel grinned at his father and said, “We only have to wait,” and sat down with a smile.  But after much waiting, he saw that nobody was helping the younger and weaker mortals.  In fact, they were totally ignored.  He was sure one of the strong mortals would show compassion, but after a long while, even in angel-time, the young angel had to admit that he would not see any random acts of kindness here.

The young angel felt totally dejected.  The father watched his son’s face closely.  He watched as his son’s look of confidence changed to concern, then to surprise, and finally defeat.  Just before the tears came, a sign of defeat for an angel, the father spoke.

“Well, where would you like to go now?”

“I guess it’s not time for my wings yet.  I guess we should just return home, but,” and his voice caught a little as he finished, “you’ll have to carry me again.”

“Why don’t we try one more place, son?” said the father, as he lifted the young angel onto his shoulders.  And as he was the one flying, the son had no alternative but to go along.

The young angel found himself in a small town on a sunny and warm day.  There were many mortals around, males and females of all ages.  None seemed especially rich, and none appeared especially strong.  In fact, everybody appeared rather ordinary.  There were grown mortals with miniature mortals, going in and out of stores.  There was a group of female mortals sitting on benches, each with at least one miniature mortal occasionally running to them to say or ask something.  One of the miniatures must have very recently been brought by the Birth Angel, for it was as small as he’d ever seen one in heaven.  The few times he had snuck into the Birth Angel’s area he saw that all mortals were tiny.  It wasn’t until his father had shown him the earth a few aeons before that he learned they only start out that way.

All in all, it wasn’t a very inspiring scene for the young angel.  What good could possibly be done here?  Even as he glumly watched, thinking this entire trip to have been a huge waste of time, he watched an older female mortal come out of a store. She was carrying two brown bags overflowing with food–something his father informed him mortals needed to continue on earth.

The young angel looked past her and saw a group of young mortal males playing a game.  Baseball he knew and he watched as the batter hit a foul ball and one of the other male youths race after it, bringing him closer.  The boy was as typical as anything else the young angel was observing today–medium height and build, curly hair that he was trying to hide under a baseball cap, buck teeth.  An ordinary young mortal, and with his limited research, of no particular interest to a young angel trying to earn his wings by observing a random act of kindness.

A beep from a car horn caught his, and everyone else’s, attention.  The elderly female mortal, with two bags of groceries obscuring her vision, had inadvertently walked too far into the street and was pushed back by the horn.  In reversing direction she stumbled and fell, and her groceries ran all over the sidewalk.

Then something he didn’t expect to happen occurred right before his eyes.  The young mortal threw the ball back to the game and signaled for them to continue playing without him.  There was some urging for him to continue the game, whether because he had thrown the ball well or because he was needed to continue play was unclear to the young angel.  Ignoring the calls from the other mortals, the youth started gathering the groceries that lay scattered near him.   After catching a few rolling objects he helped the female mortal to her feet before gathering the rest.

The young angel approached the two so he could hear their conversation.

“You look a bit shaky, ma’am,” the youth was saying.  “I’ll carry this bag, and you better hang on to me while we cross the street.”

The older mortal seemed surprised but pleased by the youth’s gallantry, but as they stepped into the street her surprise turned to appreciation for she was a bit shaky.  The female informed the youth that her home was a few blocks away.  Her husband normally drove her the short distance, but he wasn’t feeling well, and with the nice weather she thought she would enjoy the walk, especially because she didn’t think she was buying that much.  At this both mortals grinned, since each was carrying a full bag, all the bulkier as they had been repacked in the street by an inexperienced youth.

As they neared the female’s home the angel saw her digging in what she called her purse before she informed the youth, “It seems I’ve left my keys.  Would you be so kind as to ask my husband to let us in?”

The young angel had enjoyed the scene–in fact it somehow made him feel good, although why he wasn’t sure.  He turned to his father ready to ask for a ride back to heaven.  His father was looking at him funny–kind of like he knew something that the young angel didn’t.  He puzzled over it for a minute, then shrugged, when in the back of his mind, he heard it.  He quickly turned and saw the young mortal ringing the doorbell.

Together, the two angels flew home.

Lindy is a Speaker, Columnist, Author, and Consultant.  Contact her at LMEarl@EarlMarketing.com or find and like her page on Face Book, and join her FB support group, Single Again: From Devastation to Dating. You can subscribe (for $12/year) to her Life After Divorce Newsletter at www.LindySpeaks.com.