I walked into the tea room at the hospital earlier this evening, wanting only a sandwich and iced tea. The person who took my order said, “Have a seat (pointing to the dining area, such as it is). Your sandwich will be ready in a minute or two.”
I sat down at one of the small tables. A man was sitting at a table near mine. I got up to throw away an empty packet of lemon juice and noticed his Bible. I touched it and said, “It’s a beautiful thing to see a well-loved Bible.” He looked at me but didn’t offer a smile in return. I sat down at my table once more.
What I didn’t know was that an angel strolled into the small tea room with a sandwich and drink in his hand, making the head count to only the three of us in the room. Mind you, I do not call him an angel carelessly or in a cavalier manner. The angel took on the appearance of a tall black man with graying hair. He sat down in the far corner as if he might have been sent as an observer.
The man with the well-loved Bible turned to me and said, “Do you have someone in the hospital?” I told him about Mom … about the stroke … about her progress each day. I heard a soft, “Amen” from the corner of the room and then a “Praise God” (again, almost a whisper). I glanced his way. The angel had a face that seemed to glow and a smile that was all-knowing.
I asked the man with the Bible if he had someone in the hospital. “Yes, my wife. We have just been told that she has cancer.” It was all too fresh of a wound for him. I asked her name as well as his. It seemed right to speak to him, using their names. His wife was to start treatments the next morning. I told him that my mother had gone through cancer surgery, chemo and radiation in 2013 and shared what we had learned during that time. It wasn’t a lecture. It was just sharing. The man’s heart had been split-opened by the news his wife had just received and so he listened to all of the moments of hope that I shared with him in the midst of what would most certainly be very hard times ahead for his wife.
Again, the angel in the corner praised God in his baritone whisper in such a way that the man and I both looked his way. The angel declared that Mom had been blessed to be a blessing to others. And then he raised his big hands out with palms up and said, “The LORD has you all in the palm of his hand. The LORD is loving and faithful and is ever-present in your lives. Trust in God and be at peace.”
As the man and I stood up to leave, I stopped and turned to look at the angel. He had that same all-knowing smile on his face. He looked into my eyes and ever-so-slowly, ever-so-slightly nodded his head as he smiled.
I could have stayed in the tea room for another hour, sipping my iced tea, sitting in his presence and basking in the light that he had brought into a darkness.
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