Angels on my doorstep...

Yesterday the doorbell rang in the middle of the afternoon. This usually means only one thing, roofing salesmen or some other contractor trying to hustle up some business.

Although Cooper never barks when someone is at the door, I always take him with me when I open it with my hand on his collar to try and be a little intimidating. His waggin'  tail however always gives him away.

This afternoon though, the people interrupting my day weren't sales people, they were angels. And oddly enough I quit believing in angels many, many years ago.

They were a group of kids, mostly young girls, though I later found out they were young college men and women. They were here in Richardson for I think they told me for some training at a church just around the corner from our house. They were cleaned-faced, dressed casually and most important, a smile that reached across their face from side to side.

They politely introduced themselves and before they had a chance to go any further, I told them, with kind of a fake grouch face, "I normally escort people off my property without any hesitation for ruining my day". I think that might have scared one or two of them. But it's true. Although I am one of the kindest people,  I still am very territorial.

They simply asked if there was anything I needed. I looked at them and realized they had been sent to my home by a friend, actually two friends, both of whom who had passed away less than 24 hours ago. My friends, who I have known for over 60 years had left this earth, without me having a chance to say goodbye.

The young people could see I was struggling when I went to reply to them. I briefly told them about my friends passing and was having somewhat of a difficult day.

Obviously since they were church kids, the best thing I could ask for was prayer. Again, something I haven't done myself in a long, long time. Usually I tell people when informing them that someone needs spiritual help to simply say, "keep them in your thoughts". Saying the word prayer, well, it makes me feel vulnerable and I sure don't ask it for myself.

I then put the responsibility on myself and asked to hold hands, which I rarely do unless at a dinner table and someone grabs my hand and certainly never in public,  and I said "Hit it", which left a look of confusion on a few faces, but one of the girls took the cue and immediately had God's number and a direct line of communication and asked for blessings on Jack and Rosie and all of their friends and family and asked particularly for blessings on me.

I felt at peace. Mostly because I knew it was a sign from above that Jack and Rosie were fine. I knew that their families would be fine. And, I knew I would be fine.

I thanked them for being there for me. I thanked them for reminding me that despite the hate and anger in this country, there are young people who will truly save this world.

I don't want this to be a piece about anyone commenting and complaining about sales people who come to your door. If that's what you read, well, then read it again. It's about hope, strength, and something greater than ourselves.

Thanks for listening.