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Angels Among Us

Written by April Tribe Giauque

Short Story:

Angels Among Us

My daughter, Marianne, has been studying impressionism and expressionism in her art class. Below is what she created that was influenced by these techniques. 

On a busy Thursday evening at home, during the night routine of bathing, brushing teeth, and final check-ins (do you have your socks, backpacks, homework finished, etc.), my daughter Marianne timidly approached me. 

“Mom,” she signed, “I want to show you something.” With socks and my nine-year-old’s backpack in my hand, I stopped my progression in the hallway and looked at her.

“Mom, can you put down your things?” She signed, “I have something important to me.” I tossed what I had in my hands into my son's bedroom and turned to face her. 

From behind her back, she pulls out an 8X11 piece of paper. She slowly turns it over and holds it just under her chin. The image stops me. My eyes fall into the yellow and slowly rise to their soft but intense faces, then down to the white patch, where I first see the scrambled heart and then up to his confused face. 

Next, my eyes scan around the reddish outline surrounding the yellow color, and then they are pulled outward to the edges of the page as my eyes try to follow the squiggling, wiggling multicolored lines. My daughter is examining my facial expressions as I scan over the page, which gives away the emotion that my heart is feeling.  

By the time my eyes drank their fill, they returned to my daughter’s bright face with a huge smile. I could feel my cheek muscles pulled upward as well. She suddenly walked past me toward the kitchen. I obediently followed. I stepped into her view and signed, “Please share!” 

She placed the picture on the table at an angle so that I could see it and see her hands start to fly in explanation. “The light is power, it is positivity, they are angels.” My eyes scanned the light and their sweet, prayerful expressions. “Angels,” I thought to myself. 

“Look at her heart,” she signed next. My eyes went down to the tangled mass of yarn-like heart. “She is confused—but look at her eyes. She is still a little hopeful.” I understand that feeling. “Do you see all of these lines and wiggles? This is the world in its confusion. She sees it and feels confused but hopeful.” My head nodded in agreement, and my smile fell to a shocked “o” expression. 

The question flew from my hands before I could stop them: “What is this red line that seems to outline her and the angels ?” She smiled. That is blood—the blood of Christ’s sacrifice protecting the angels and her.” 

My breath caught. I was not expecting something that profound. She continued, “His sacrifice protects all of us. We need to trust it even in these confusing times.”  That pierced me.  I could feel from my heart the dam of water behind my eyes well up and slightly spill over, running two side tracks down the wrinkled corners of my eyes. 

She quickly signed, “I want to show Dad.” I wiped my  left eye with the back of my hand and signed, “Yes, of course.” I flashed a smile. “Mom, why cry?” she asked. “Your light touched mine.” I signed. She smiled and slightly shook her head. “Let’s share with Dad.” I first hugged her, then pulled back and nodded. I followed her downstairs, and the Spirit impressed this thought on me. “See, they are getting it. Keep teaching in the everyday moments—angels are on your right hand and on your left.”

I’d love to know your thoughts about this picture, and if you would be so kind to share, that would be incredible. Thank you so much for reading through this long “short story.” 

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