I almost walked past this angel on a grave marker at Bury Saint Edmund’s Cathedral. The lichen is taking over his wings and his face; in another hundred years he could be invisible.
He would not be the only unnoticed angel but the setting sun illuminated his features and I paid attention. He’s very serious about being an angel, ready to lead his people, those buried here, to heaven where he is always basking in the Divine Presence which far surpasses our sun.
I was very serious about being an angel along with Cy at primary school. My mum made the costumes for us both and rehearsed me through my lines. We were narrators as well as heavenly messengers so the Nativity Play depended on us. Then, disaster! I got poorly and Cy had to manage both sets of lines. We had rehearsed together so often that we knew each other’s parts, so there was no disaster after all. Bravo Cy! I think I got over the jealousy some years ago.
We can miss the angel voices, time and again, but the Star, our sun in this case, can cast an unexpected light. The tombstone angel will not shine out like this every day, only in wintertime, and only for a few minutes each evening. This time at least, I was watchful enough to see him.
What message am I in danger of not hearing or seeing this evening, as I sit across the fireplace from Mrs T, comfortably quiet together? What message am I in danger of not sharing clearly with you, dear reader?
Look out for that unexpected beam of light; follow the star!
agnellusmirror 