Last week when the snow had stopped falling for a time, I saw an angel.  Well, the shape of one like you see on Christmas trees or cards.  It was hard to make out at first, but the more I looked, the clearer it became.  It was a gentle reminder to search, scavenge and scrabble for signs of hope, especially when we’re in the wilderness.

In the past when things were particularly difficult, I used to look back on a tough day and notice the good stuff – a shared smile with a fellow-patient in the hospital waiting room, a text from an old friend, the first birdsong after a sleepless night, the glimmer of sun through the clouds on a gloomy day.  All of these were heaven-sent gifts for me.

I’d forgotten about that until the angel – perhaps because people close to me are having a dark time, or perhaps the lack of trouble in my own life is making me complacent.   All these signs are still there, even when we don’t notice them.

On the flip-side, I wonder if all it takes is a smile, a text or an offer of help, can you be an angel too? There won’t be any halos or wings, but it will be as good. Almost.