Angels

Recently I was referred to as an "Angel." Sounds nice huh? It was. However, I don't think the author of the comment meant one of the frilly Halloween or Christmas Angels. And not the dark angel either. Defintely not dark.

It's not the first time I've been called this. My friend Emma sent me a passionate, heartfelt card a few years ago. We were great friends in State College, PA. She's glamorous, tall, insightful, and as is often the case with women of those qualities, beaten down and misunderstood. But not by me. Her card read "you are an angle (she misspelled it-- I hope I'm an "acute" one instead of "obtuse.") sent into my life to enrich it.

It was such an honor to watch her grow, think and learn to love. That angel Sophia was a sweeter guardian type. That was what was needed. A warm hand, a kind thought, experience of being older. Encouragement. Validation, and unconditional love. Even when I wasn't confused and knew what would happen, I let her stumble and fall and find her own way. When she reached out her hand, mine was always there. Emma, you are my sister.

The new Sophia angel is a warrior. Because that is what is needed. Fierce in love. Courageous. Focussed. Powerful and strong. Enough for 2. I have had to practice fighting, endure countless battles of emotional tests. And each time something comes up, it's easier and easier. This angel learns. She wasn't strong enough before. But that has changed.

I will watch the stumbles, and the falls of confusion. Over and over. But my light is bright. And these arms are oh so strong. All my enegy harnessed and ready.

I will drag you out of the beige, colorless darkness. But not until you ask.

This is what the author of the comment meant.