Angels unaware

Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it. (Hebrews 13:2)

I recognized the face immediately, older, certainly, and her hair was a different color. But the shape of her smile had endured years of crippling arthritis, transporting me to the high school classrooms we shared more than 50 years ago.

Her name was … is … Diane. I didn’t know her well. We were not friends, just pleasant acquaintances occupying the same spaces for a few short years in our little high school. Most classes were required and elective opportunities were few, so we saw the same people over-and-over from one hour to the next until the bell rang at 3:57 p.m., setting the prisoners free.

So, then, what is this flood of gratitude as she smiles at me from a Facebook obituary, recounting her death at 71 and naming family members who were blessed by the life she lived?

I know almost nothing of that life beyond a few brief moments we shared in the narthex of my childhood church while visiting my mother. The first time, I was surprised to see her there, since she was not part of the church when I was growing up.

Reading the names of her children and grandchildren, teary words of purest gratitude rise unbidden from the center of my soul, praise to God for a life with which I had but fleeting connection, long ago.

But why such praise and spontaneous emotion? Perhaps this: She was an unassuming presence, making no demands and offering no judgments at a time in my life when I felt insecure, uncertain and even more confused by life than I am now. It was enough for us to exchange greetings, comment on the class assignment or whatever rumors were buzzing through the hallways.

There is a certain grace in this, moments when it is enough just to be, free of expectations to be something or someone at a time when you weren’t sure of who you were … or are … or might or want to be.

I certainly wouldn’t name Diane as having much influence on the development of who I continue to become. But maybe I should.

There are far more channels of grace, unnoticed streams of Presence, than the obvious ones we can see and name. Our days are sprinkled with little moments—incidental, nothing-special, entirely forgotten encounters—that direct our paths, change our course and shape our hearts in incalculable ways beyond our awareness.

All of which is to say life is a greater mystery than we imagine, and God, which is to say the presence of Loving Grace, is woven more deeply among the twisted threads of our days than our blinkered eyes can see.

But moments come when the heart is grasped by an intuition, when it knows what the mind cannot teach, and tears offer their silent prayer, moved by Love’s Living Presence that was always there … unnoticed … in places and faces that were more important than you ever knew.

No one needs to tell you to be thankful at such a time. For a beatific presence well beyond you moves you to gratitude for the great mystery of your life and for the greater mystery of the Love who managed to find and bless you … even though you were clueless about it at the time.

But when, finally, your heart sees and knows, love flows as easily as your breath. Just so, Diane, beloved of God, I return the blessing.

May the angels lead you into paradise; may the martyrs greet you at your arrival and lead you into the holy city, Jerusalem. May the choir of angels greet you and, like Lazarus, who once was a poor man, may you have eternal rest.

David L. Miller