Every home in the neighborhood had one
a beautiful, fragile Christmas angel
kneeling beside each window
reflecting the love and light of the Master Artist who created them.
The troubled young man walked the street on which they lived, observing these angels,
each unique in its design,
each treasured in its home,
each perfect in its innocence and perfection
and he hated them.
Once, he’d been like them
but now, no light penetrated the darkness of his armor,
he couldn’t see the beauty of his own reflection
so he thought it was lost forever
and believed he would never shine the way they shone.
They were treasured and loved.
If he was treasured, he didn’t feel it.
If he was loved, the warmth of that love didn’t seep beneath his protective shell.
So he walked the street and
shot a bullet into each little angel,
shattering them
beyond repair.
He thought it would heal him.
He imagined that when they were lying, broken along the street,
he would feel whole again
or at least he wouldn’t be mocked by their perfection.
Then he saw what he couldn’t have imagined,
above each pile of shattered crystal
there hovered a light, ethereal being
more beautiful than its housing had been,
like love perfected and freed.
He hadn’t destroyed them after all.
He’d only set their light and beauty free to testify to the power of the Master Artist who had crafted them.
He collapsed at the end of the street, the spirits of the little Christmas angels dancing and singing above him
and as he wept, he thrust a piece of shattered crystal
into his own broken heart.
The little Christmas angels fled to the Master Artist crying out, “What’s wrong with him, Father? Why did he break us and why is he choosing to die alone?”
“Come home to me, little angels. There’s no crying or dying where I Am. Leave him to me. He was broken long ago and I hold the pieces of his heart in my hand. His future is now between him and me alone. Come home to me, little angels. He cannot hurt you anymore.”
And as the young man died, he saw the little Christmas angels reaching the Master’s embrace
and their perfect laughter and singing bounced off the stars and was the last sound that echoed in his ears.
Praying for all the survivors of the Connecticut school shooting. May God have mercy on us all.
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Wow…beautifully written, Lori….
Thank so much for not so much focusing on the obvious heartwrenching tragedy that transpired today, but for shining the light on God’s amazing love and grace which heals each hand small and large as they entered the beautiful Kingdom of life. There they will be kept safe and loved until they are reunited with those that loved and cared for them.
Beautiful.
Perfect.
Wow.
this was the story I needed to read today as I grieve for each life lost. thank you Lori for your gift.
How heart rending it was to watch the news and know one could only pray for “the peace that passes understanding” for the families of these children. Your blog quieted my heart as it reminded me that His Grace is sufficient. MOMMA
I held my breath while reading each word — incredibly powerful, moving, and divinely soothing. Thank you, Lori. Wow.
Thank you, all. I’m glad the words I used to process this tragedy in my own heart were able to minister to yours. May God have mercy on us all.
This is beautiful, Lori. Thanks for every word, every image it evoked. Lovely to realize there is no more pain or fear where those angels are now. May their parents and loved ones find peace in knowing that.
Amen, Teresa
You brought me to tears. What a beautiful allegory to the Connecticut tragedy. Praying for the families who’s arms are aching right now without their cherished little angels.