Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Angel of God, my guardian dear...

It would seem I have angels on the brain. But not those angels-in-people's-clothing this time...I mean angels. Halos, wings and all.

I stood behind our sea-green polyester curtain in the women's clinic, interpreting for a painful procedure happening on the other side. As often happens when I know my patients are in pain, I breathed a quick prayer for her. For strength, for God to hold her close, and bring her through as comfortably as possible. And suddenly - I knew they were there. Five angels, guardians of the five people in the room. Real. Present. Watching. Helping.

"Perhaps the most significant continuing activity of the good angels is to be the agents of God's particular providence for mankind. Thus, the Church teaches that everyone has a guardian angel, based on references to them throughout the Bible."

Catholics are very attached to their guardian angels, and it isn't a figure of speech when I say they were here with us. They were as present as the doctor, the MA, or myself. When I was little and had nightmares, Mom would sit on my bed and remind me of the strong angel who was always with me, my protector. As she tiptoed back down the hallway to her own bed (often for the second or third time that night), I would park my angel on whichever side of the bed was scarier, roll over, and go to sleep. Forgive the casual assignment, Angel; I'm sure you always chuckled at this tiny little girl trying to decide which side you should be on - as if you couldn't guard both.

I realized there in the clinic room that even though I couldn't be next to my patient (privacy screens keep the patient comfortable when there are already too many people in the room), she was not alone. I thought I could almost feel the presence of those silent guardians there with us, and even though I knew that for what it was, just imagination, I still shivered. I could see them in my mind's eye - next to the doctor, guiding her hands; next to the patient's mother, as she watched anxiously; next to the patient, a strong and steady companion. And knowing they were there filled me joy. Our world and theirs are so distant and different, but here we share a middle space. I've become more and more aware of that as I move through the hospital. It's amazing to think of them as I move through the crowded hallways; past the trauma bays; by the newborn unit. What a beautiful thing that is. We're not alone - we're never alone.

More writing by this author

Blogs on This Site