Pewter Angels (2 page)

A
thoughtful man once said
that in between our thoughts or in between sounds there is a silence in which we can reach our Creator. I believe this to be true: often in my own mediations I have enjoyed moments of pure joy and love. I have also experienced this bliss and delight in everyday life, overwhelmed by the beauty of God’s creation and the love that resides in the core of each one of us. You see, Heaven is right here—not only in the silence but in between the spaces of everything in the universe. The Kingdom is within us, in the flowers, the sky, the rocks and mountains … it was all made by Him out of nothing, and so He is in all things seen and unseen.

It is the unseen that has always intrigued me—I hope to spend eternity in the presence of my God. It is my final destination and I know that what I do in the time between when I was born until I leave this earth determines the heavenly mansion prepared by the Lord in which I shall reside.

The Lord desires me and all mankind to be close to Him. So, to help us on our journey to Him, He has, from the beginning, created a legion of angels. At the moment I was conceived, a guardian angel flew to my side. For nearly a hundred years he has watched over me, protected me, answered my prayers, and entreated the Lord to have mercy on me when I strode off on my own, fighting fervently to set my feet on the true path each time. I can say with love and conviction that my guardian angel is my closest friend and ally—my unseen link to God.

And I am grateful. I have been one of the fortunate few to know of my protector and thus cooperate with him. For many, this gift from God might as well be a secret, their angel so taken for granted they are oblivious to the tremendous help and support available to them in their daily lives. As a result they forfeit a thousand blessings and fall victim to a thousand misfortunes that might have otherwise been avoided

Whenever I can, I speak of my protector and encourage others to do so as well.

“Have you never had a feeling you should visit someone, help another or lift in prayer a long lost friend?” I ask. “These are not just idle thoughts or whispers in our dreams, they are born of our celestial patron or the promptings of another angel seeking help for his charge.

Great indeed is our debt of gratitude to the angels for their tender care, protection and untiring solicitudes on our behalf. We owe our angels profound respect for their presence, their love and their power to watch over us daily, and humble thanks for the care they bestow upon us.

Not until we enter eternity shall we know the number of benefits our guardian angel has nurtured from the first moment of our existence. There are rare times, however, when just such a thing happens. Less than a year ago, I had cause to meet Zachariah, my personal protector. The medical community attributed my stint on the other side to “a near death experience,” but I know it to have been a miracle—and there was purpose in my return.

For the one who has been granted a second chance in life, memory of their visit to the other side is often almost absent, or so foggy and distant that their retelling of the experience lacks coherence. For me, the memory is perfectly clear, as if it happened yesterday.

What I learned from my protector during those minutes when time stood still was more than three lifetimes of learning, the knowing of the ages absorbed in a single thought. Tears of gratitude flowed from my eyes as I saw how he had guided, protected and assisted me in every endeavour of my life to help keep me in harmony with God’s will.

But perhaps Zachariah’s greatest sharing was the involvement of the guardian angels assigned to lives close to my own. Now, there is a love story if there ever was one …

When I returned to the land of the living, I knew what I should do. “Yes,” I whispered to the unseen, “it is the perfect way for others to see, as I do, the presence of God’s heavenly angels in their lives.”

H
enry lunged forward and
pressed his nose against the storm door glass as the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen passed by. She captivated him and held him spellbound, his attention drawn to her like a straight pin to a magnet.

She must have felt his gaze on her; she stopped and looked towards his door. Her initial quizzical look relaxed and softened into an engaging smile before she turned and strolled away, her hips swaying gently under the warm summer sun.

Henry’s nose slid along the windowpane as he followed her, a thin layer of fog forming on the glass from his breath. He pushed up on his tiptoes to rise above it. As he gazed at her, something powerful stirred deep inside him, turning the boredom he’d felt all morning into an unexplainable excitement.

He followed as far as he could until his head bumped into the door frame. When she was out of view, Henry lowered himself and took a few deep breaths to slow his racing heart before opening the front door and peeking out.

At that precise moment, she stopped and glanced back, her eyes meeting his. Henry gasped then jumped out of her sight behind the storm door. The momentary embarrassment was more than worth the peek at that winsome creature.

Still in a daze, he relived the thirty seconds or so it had taken her to pass his house. She had come and gone so quickly that he couldn’t describe anything more specific than her wheat-coloured hair. He needed to know the shape of her lips, the colour of her eyes, the complexion of her skin. Did she have any dimples? How did her mouth curl when she spoke? He could only imagine she would be perfect in every way.

Henry closed his eyes, pressing his mind to recall more. Her maroon sweater had curved over small breasts and her black skirt hung just below her knees. Spotless white bobby socks sprung from black and white saddle shoes. And she had carried something in her hand. A piece of paper, perhaps a grocery list. If it was a list, she was probably headed for the corner grocery a little over a block away.

His plan to go for a bike ride to kill time while waiting for Timmy Linder to get out of summer school suddenly changed.

He just had to get a closer look at this intriguing girl.

Henry dashed out the door and scooted between his house and the neighbours’. His shiny red bike—a present for his fifteenth birthday two days before—waited for him. He knelt beside it, fumbling with the lock.

“Henry?” Mrs. Goronic called from her garden when she heard him unlock his bike. “Can you carry away the weeds for me?”

Oh, not now!
Henry enjoyed helping his neighbour, but not even the promise of being paid a nickel for the job could distract him from his mission.

“Sorry, I have to go to the grocery store, Mrs. Goronic,” he answered, desperate to be away. “I’ll help you when I get back.”

Henry flipped the bike around and pushed it to the street. He grabbed the handlebars, stepped on the left pedal and threw his leg over the seat. His right foot hit the other pedal—and slipped off; the bar of the metal bike frame slammed into his groin.

A fiery rocket of pain surged through his body as he fell, knocking the breath out of him. Henry crouched over, unable to straighten up. Embarrassed, he glanced around to see if anyone had witnessed his accident. Thankfully, it didn’t appear so. But every moment he spent recovering was a moment that kept him from meeting her. Consciously he inhaled through his nose and out through his mouth to control his breathing, straightening as the pain subsided. He gingerly remounted the leather seat, planted his foot on the pedal and propelled himself down the street, weaving from side to side to ease the sting he felt each time his right leg rose on the pedal’s upstroke. Hopefully, no one watching would think he was drunk.

As he made his way to the grocery (much more slowly than he would have liked), Henry marveled at his bold and impulsive behaviour: chasing after a girl! He’d had crushes on girls before, but until that morning he’d always lost his gumption when it came to matters of romance. It wasn’t that Henry was particularly shy or uncouth—he had plenty of friends and was generally well-mannered and well-spoken—he just always seemed to lose his cool and ability to speak coherently around pretty girls. But today, something felt different. He didn’t know what had gotten into him this morning, but Henry was not only smitten with his new neighbour, he was bound and determined to meet her as soon as possible. And, with that thought, despite his aching groin, Henry’s feet began to pedal faster and faster, his bike propelling him forward through space so quickly it almost felt like he had wings.

Henry had hoped to beat her to the store and meet her at the front door—assuming that was where she was going. But a good ten minutes had elapsed since his little accident. By the time he arrived at Engelmann’s Grocery, she was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she was already inside. Or maybe she had taken the trolley that had just pulled away. Or maybe she had gone to Victoria Pharmacy, two blocks down the other way.

Still, he was here now. Better check the grocery first.

He set his bike on the walk in front of the stairs, even though he knew Mr. Engelmann would holler at him for blocking the entrance. He wouldn’t be long.

He pulled open the heavy wooden door and was greeted by the pleasant odour of fresh ground coffee. Dust motes hung in the sunlit square of the doorway before it clapped shut behind him. Mr. Engelmann was at the counter serving a customer; over the years his regular place by the till had worn a slight groove into the wood. The store only had two aisles, so Henry walked over to the one nearest him and glanced down it. No one. The wooden floor boards squeaked and creaked as Henry stepped to the other side. It too was empty.

“Henry!”

He jumped.

“Are you looking for the young lady who came in here a few minutes ago?”

Henry’s face burned. He swung around to face Mr. Engelmann and as he did so, his arm caught the edge of a huge pyramid of salmon tins, sending them rolling and skittering everywhere. Henry wanted to dive through one of the open knotholes in the floor to escape the tide of red surging up from his collar to the top of his head. It was bad enough to have an accident in Old Man Engelmann’s store, but for the girl of his dreams to see his clumsiness was another thing entirely. He only hoped that she’d already left and hadn’t witnessed his accident.

“Sorry, Mr. Engelmann,” Henry said in a low voice. He knelt down and began gathering the tins. Crawling on all fours, he reached for one on the other side of the aisle and there she was, squatting in front of him.

She picked it up and handed it to him. “Here, can I help you?”

Henry looked up.
My God, she
is
beautiful
, he thought. The morning sunlight was beaming in the front window behind her, and its glow on her blond hair gave her a soft halo. It reminded Henry of the painting of the Virgin Mary hanging in his parents’ bedroom.

Humiliated, he couldn’t answer right away. He felt another flush of heat on his cheeks and ducked his head.

“Yes, yes, please help him,” Mr. Engelmann called from across the store. “Looks like he could use another pair of hands.”

That broke the tension and a wave of relief washed over Henry.

Trying to be cool, he looked up at the girl again and this time he smiled. She did not avert her gaze and he was inordinately pleased. Her sky blue eyes looked on him with compassion and her lips curled just enough to let him know she was not laughing at him, though they conveyed a lightheartedness, nonetheless. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she leaned towards him to pick up another tin and Henry smelled lilacs.

“Yeah, I could use the help,” Henry finally replied with a semblance of composure. He took another can from her hand. “I’m a bit clumsy this morning.”

Her smile broadened and she handed him more tins.

So far, so good,
thought Henry. Although he had already made a complete fool out of himself, he had actually managed to smile and speak to a pretty girl. And she had smiled back! He certainly wasn’t out of the woods yet, he could still easily blow it like he usually did. But for some reason, today felt different; Henry felt different. He was overcome with a sense of assurance that he was doing exactly what he was meant to do.

As they crouched, gathering up the tins in silence, Henry studied her covertly, hoping she wouldn’t notice. The sunlight continued to dapple and tint her honey-coloured hair, and now he noticed that it fell just below her ears. As she reached for a wayward tin, her hair swung forward, hiding most of her facial features except for the tip of her slightly upturned nose. Her neck was long and slender, reminding Henry of Egyptian ladies he had seen in the encyclopedia.

Suddenly, she turned to Henry as if to speak, catching him off guard. He didn’t have time to pretend he wasn’t staring. He’d been caught. Their eyes met now for a second time and although he felt his face warming again with a blush, this time he couldn’t turn away. Her gaze locked with his and his with hers. They rose from their knees simultaneously, as if lifted, and were at once standing, facing each other. Nothing existed except this moment and this place…

A charged, earthly attraction united their hearts while a spiritual energy traveled the length of the gaze they shared, drawing their souls from their bodies and joining them at the halfway point. The aura around them brightened, enclosing both in the surrounding glow of their celestial connection.

Time stood still…

Mr. Engelmann looked up. “How are you two doing over there?” The sound of his voice pierced the rapture of the moment.

Henry caught his breath. His soul slammed back into his chest. “O-okay,” he answered, though he wasn’t sure what the question had been. Heat returned to his cheeks. What in the world was he doing, staring at her like that? She would think he was a nut. He blinked several times as though something were in his eyes.

She tilted her head and moved back, then bent down to retrieve the remaining tin cans at their feet. Henry looked at Mr. Engelmann, saw him nod in their direction and wink to the customer he was serving. The pink staining Henry’s cheeks deepened to red, his composure crumbling. Whatever confidence he had felt a few moments ago was quickly diminishing. Looking away, Henry placed the last of the collected tins onto the stack.

“Guess I should watch where I’m going, huh?”

“We all have accidents.” Her voice held a gentle humour, erasing his lingering embarrassment.

“Thanks for your help. Did you find what you came for?”

“No, not everything. I better go ask for help and get back home before they send a search party.”

As the only other customer in the store gathered up his bag and left, she approached Mr. Engelmann.

“Hi. Could you please show me where the sugar is?”

Henry stole another look at her. She sure didn’t need any sweetening.

“It’s just down this aisle,” Mr. Engelmann pointed, “at the end on the second shelf.”

“And the baking soda? Where might that be?”

“Also with the baking supplies but on the first shelf.”

Henry continued straightening the stack of tins, propelled by a yearning he could not suppress. He felt ridiculous. On the one hand, he just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, but on the other, he was rooted to the spot and seemed to have no control over his actions. It was obvious he was stalling now, but the girl seemed to be stalling, too—or so he hoped. By the time she’d found her items and paid for them, Henry’s mountain of salmon tins was perfectly stacked. As she strolled towards the door, taking her time and looking at everything along the way, Henry sprinted to the front.

“Henry,” Mr. Engelmann called. “What did you come in for? Were you supposed to pick something up?”

Henry froze.
Of course!
The girl was probably wondering the same thing! He didn’t want to let on his real reason for being there. Silently, he begged the girl to wait for him. He turned and spotted several loaves of wrapped bread, lined up neatly on the paint-chipped shelf. He snatched one up.

“Please put it on our account,” Henry said as he dashed to join the girl lingering by the door.

“Don’t you want a bag?”

“No, no. This is fine. I’m really sorry for being so clumsy.”

“It’s okay, Henry.” Mr. Engelmann leaned forward to rest his hands on the counter. “I think I stacked the tins out too far in the aisle. Not to worry.”

Henry nodded towards Mr. Engelmann and at once turned back to the girl. She seemed to be holding back a chuckle, which then turned into a wide warm smile.

He dashed past her, opened the heavy door and held it for her. She cast him a furtive glance then looked down, her cheeks faintly tinged with pink.

Henry’s heart skipped a beat. Together they walked down the two steps to the pavement. The bike Henry had dreamed of and hoped for and had been so happy to get only two days before blocked the path. Henry did the unthinkable. He stepped over his longed-for birthday gift as if it were a discarded candy wrapper and walked on, in step with the girl. Just then, she turned to him, her crystal blue eyes sparkling, and made Henry’s day. “By the way, I’m Jenny Sarsky. We just moved into the neighbourhood a few days ago.”