Tuesday, December 02, 2003
Angels in Ohio
I'm so tired...
...but I wanted to get the angel story out there. I guess it makes as good a December story as a November one, considering it's somewhat religious in tone, or at least mysterious.
Okay, let me preface this by writing that I don't really consider myself a Christian. I don't like to be categorized, especially in terms of religion, but for those of you who must have some sort of box to put me in, you can put me into the "casual seeker" box. Maybe the "I want to believe" box, or the "agnostically inclined neo-pagan" box, or the "I don't really know, but this feels kind of right" box. There's no box for all the little nuances, moods, or concepts of spirituality I have, but that will give you a reference point. I am not a bible waving, icon-wearing, blind believer in anything.
But I think I may have met an angel once.
It was in November, in the late eighties, and I lived in a fairly affluent suburb of Cleveland called Bay Village with my mom and stepfather. My mom and I were on our way to the grocery store when we saw this old man shambling along the sidewalk looking hopelessly out of place among the well groomed yards and upscale houses.
I couldn't take my eyes off him. He was dressed entirely in brown, in a vintage suit that looked like it was part of a community theatre production of Guys and Dolls. His hair was longish, wavy and pure white. He kept glancing up at the sky.
My mom saw him, too, and said something like, "that poor old man". As we drove out of view, we decided to bring him something hot to eat from the store.
As we shopped, I could not get the image of him out of my head. We bought him hot sandwiches, some fruit, and something to drink, and gleefully anticipated making this old man's day a little brighter. But, as luck would have it, we could not find him on any of the sidewalks as we drove up and down Bay, looking for him.
Just as we resigned ourselves to never seeing him again, we pulled into our own driveway. I looked up and there he was, walking on the sidewalk in front of our house. I leaped out of the car with the food, and stopped him as Mom pulled into the drive.
"Hi! These are for you."
Looking at him up close was even more unsettling than from the safety of the car. It wasn't so much his appearance that was riveting; it was his presence. His coloring was odd: light brown skin, hair so white it looked like it was lit from within, and clear blue eyes that were vivid, intense...seeing. His face was indescribable-- young and old, deliriously happy and horrifically sad, sharp and off-putting, but somehow lovely, all at the same time. He wore an old fedora, that odd 40's style brown suit, and no socks.
I had made 20 dollars from some sort of the oddball work I did as a teen, and I had the bill in my pocket. I fished it out and put it in the bag, reasoning that this old man needed it far more than I did. I gave the bag to him, feeling only slightly uneasy at his enthusiastic thanks and "God Bless You's". I wanted to tell him that I was a pagan, but lots of people have the wrong ideas about pagans, and I didn't want to scare this old man. He asked me if there was a nearby church, and I pointed him in the direction of the nearest one, warning him that it probably wouldn't be open.
He seemed completely unworried. Before he headed off, thanking me as he went, I stopped him.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Raphael," he replied.
"Like the angel," I remarked.
At once, he laughed, long and loud and clearly, a laugh much larger than he was. I looked away, down the driveway, for just an instant. When I turned back, he was completely gone. I looked down the sidewalk, across the street, but there was no sign of him. I started back up the driveway, putting my hands in my pockets for warmth. The 20 dollar bill was there, and on the grass of the lawn was a large white feather. I did not pick it up.
I'm so tired...
...but I wanted to get the angel story out there. I guess it makes as good a December story as a November one, considering it's somewhat religious in tone, or at least mysterious.
Okay, let me preface this by writing that I don't really consider myself a Christian. I don't like to be categorized, especially in terms of religion, but for those of you who must have some sort of box to put me in, you can put me into the "casual seeker" box. Maybe the "I want to believe" box, or the "agnostically inclined neo-pagan" box, or the "I don't really know, but this feels kind of right" box. There's no box for all the little nuances, moods, or concepts of spirituality I have, but that will give you a reference point. I am not a bible waving, icon-wearing, blind believer in anything.
But I think I may have met an angel once.
It was in November, in the late eighties, and I lived in a fairly affluent suburb of Cleveland called Bay Village with my mom and stepfather. My mom and I were on our way to the grocery store when we saw this old man shambling along the sidewalk looking hopelessly out of place among the well groomed yards and upscale houses.
I couldn't take my eyes off him. He was dressed entirely in brown, in a vintage suit that looked like it was part of a community theatre production of Guys and Dolls. His hair was longish, wavy and pure white. He kept glancing up at the sky.
My mom saw him, too, and said something like, "that poor old man". As we drove out of view, we decided to bring him something hot to eat from the store.
As we shopped, I could not get the image of him out of my head. We bought him hot sandwiches, some fruit, and something to drink, and gleefully anticipated making this old man's day a little brighter. But, as luck would have it, we could not find him on any of the sidewalks as we drove up and down Bay, looking for him.
Just as we resigned ourselves to never seeing him again, we pulled into our own driveway. I looked up and there he was, walking on the sidewalk in front of our house. I leaped out of the car with the food, and stopped him as Mom pulled into the drive.
"Hi! These are for you."
Looking at him up close was even more unsettling than from the safety of the car. It wasn't so much his appearance that was riveting; it was his presence. His coloring was odd: light brown skin, hair so white it looked like it was lit from within, and clear blue eyes that were vivid, intense...seeing. His face was indescribable-- young and old, deliriously happy and horrifically sad, sharp and off-putting, but somehow lovely, all at the same time. He wore an old fedora, that odd 40's style brown suit, and no socks.
I had made 20 dollars from some sort of the oddball work I did as a teen, and I had the bill in my pocket. I fished it out and put it in the bag, reasoning that this old man needed it far more than I did. I gave the bag to him, feeling only slightly uneasy at his enthusiastic thanks and "God Bless You's". I wanted to tell him that I was a pagan, but lots of people have the wrong ideas about pagans, and I didn't want to scare this old man. He asked me if there was a nearby church, and I pointed him in the direction of the nearest one, warning him that it probably wouldn't be open.
He seemed completely unworried. Before he headed off, thanking me as he went, I stopped him.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Raphael," he replied.
"Like the angel," I remarked.
At once, he laughed, long and loud and clearly, a laugh much larger than he was. I looked away, down the driveway, for just an instant. When I turned back, he was completely gone. I looked down the sidewalk, across the street, but there was no sign of him. I started back up the driveway, putting my hands in my pockets for warmth. The 20 dollar bill was there, and on the grass of the lawn was a large white feather. I did not pick it up.
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