© Yoon Wan-Hee (Faith Column #22, LA Christian Today, March 7, 2007)

Among the church families, there is one home so filled with angel figurines that it could be called an “angel museum.” Looking closely at each figure, you see angels praising, angels dancing, angels praying, angels guiding the way, guardian angels, angels proclaiming peace, angels of flowers, and more. Gathered from travels across the United States and abroad, these angels came in every shape and size. Each expressed a beauty so mysterious and exquisite that every empty space in that home was occupied by sculpted angels.

This couple had an only daughter named Cindy. From birth, Cindy carried multiple disabilities and was never able to live independently as a human being. Her life was spent moving between hospitals and care facilities. The couple called her their “Special Angel,” and devoted themselves to her with the utmost love and care. Yet, in her fortieth year, Cindy passed away before them. After her departure, the couple poured all their passion into collecting angels, soothing their longing for their daughter through this devotion.

When I think of angels, a particular image remains in my heart. It is a picture that hung in the church education building during my Sunday school days: a lost little sister trying to cross a mountain stream. The current looked swift and frightening, and the children stood frozen in fear. Behind them stood a beautiful angel with great wings, protecting them. Even in my unconscious childhood world, angels were always present in such a beautiful form, standing by my side.

Yet, there are angels who do not match our imagination at all. These angels come to us as the physically disabled, the mentally challenged, sometimes as those living at society’s lowest depths, as lives covered in wounds. The suffering and poverty they endure cannot help but be heavy burdens and pains. They need ceaseless love, attention, and quiet fellowship.

So then, what is the role of such angels? Surely their mission is to sanctify us. Through their weakness and imbalance, our souls learn compassion and love. Through their unhealed pain, we are made to acknowledge human limitation. In the suffering they endure with every breath, we discover that the moments we take for granted are in fact immense gifts of grace.

And yet, we cannot deny that angels also dwell within us. When we take time to visit a nursing home, when we suddenly remember someone forgotten and reach out, when we send a friendly smile to a stranger, when we send a warm card to the lonely, when we show concern for those we once ignored, when we discover and affirm another’s talent, when we live each day quietly as a calling—at that moment, do we not become angels ourselves? Thanks to neighbors who live unaware that they are angels, the world today seems all the more beautiful and worth living in.