The Angels Gift There is a land of the living and a land of the dead, and the bridge is love. Thornton Wilder Gretchen and her husband, Fred, had had a long and happy marriage, but Fred had recently died. And although Gretchen had a son and four grandchildren who loved her very much, one does not easily recover from such a momentous loss. During the first few months, Gretchen had been numb with grief and unable to weep. But she had progressed beyond the initial shock stage, and now, it seemed, crying was all she did. I was beginning to dread meeting anyone, she recalls, because I was so afraid that I would burst into tears in the middle of an ordinary conversation. People had been very kind, but Gretchen didnt want anyone pitying her and she didnt want her sorrow to make others uncomfortable. On this Sunday, Gretchen went to church by herself and selected an empty pew. She saw no familiar faces, and she was relieved. At least if her anguish threatened to overwhelm her, she could slip out quietly. As she sat in the pew, she thought again of Fred, and desolation and grief swept in waves across her spirit. I could hardly keep from crying out, she says. It was hard to endure such continuous mourning. Would it ever end? In another moment, she was going to weep.... Suddenly, a small boy entered the pew and sat next to Gretchen. She eyed him through her tears. He had light-brown hair, was neatly dressed in a little brown suit and appeared to be about six years old. And he was looking up at her in the most familiar way, smiling as if he knew her. It was peculiar. Children rarely attended church alone in this particular congregation, especially at such an early hour. Where could his family be? Even stranger was the fact that, although the youngster had picked up the church prayer book to read, he kept edging toward Gretchen. He moved nearer and nearer, very casually. He would read, then look up, catch my eye and beam. His whole attitude made it clear that he had come to keep me many. What a darling child! As the little boy snuggled close to Gretchen, something else began to happen. She felt her heart lighten. Somehow, although she hadnt believed such a thing would ever happen again she began to feel, yes, happy. It was only a fleeting emotion, like a brief little kiss, but she felt it. And she would be happy again. She knew it now without question. A time to mourn and a time to dance ... Gretchen was still very much in mourning but the love and sweetness in the little boys face had given her a glimpse of a better time yet to come. But who was this child? Gretchen looked down at him, and again he smiled at her in that intimate and penetrating manner. She must know him.... Why else would he be behaving this way? Of course. He was probably the son of a younger neighbor or friend who, aware of Gretchens loss and seeing her sitting alone, had sent her little boy up to share the pew. Gretchen would have to thank his parents for their thoughtfulness. She would watch where the child went after the service. As the service ended, Gretchen and the boy left the pew and headed for the front door. There were people around, but not a huge crowd, and the child was right next to Gretchen. What is your name? she asked him. Do I know your mother? But instead of answering, he looked up at her for one last smile. And then, as Gretchens eyes scanned the crowd to find someone searching for him, the child vanished. He was there—and then simply wasnt. Gretchen didnt see him go, but when she glanced down, the spot next to her was vacant. I kept looking for him among the people until everyone had left, but I never saw him again, nor did I meet anyone who knew him or had sent him. But after that Sunday, Gretchen never felt quite so alone again. Gradually the truth seemed to come upon her—that an ordinary child, no matter how charming, would not have been able to lift her spirits in that mysterious and welcome way. Instead, the child had been sent by someone who understood her suffering and was reaching out to comfort and heal her. Perhaps it was Fred.
Posted on: Fri, 25 Oct 2013 15:04:39 +0000
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