The Angel of Hope

She stared at the computer, the deafening silence of the blue and gray screen screamed: fatal_errors Christmas 2014“Fatal Error…OK.” No, it is not OK, she thought. Unfortunately, it is how life seemed to be coming at her: fatal errors. The challenges appeared to be amassing exponentially, home, family, friends, work, life; it was hard to make any decisions let alone to know if they were the right ones. She came to the office to get her mind off it all; but now the office was quiet, too quiet and she felt alone, too alone; and obviously her computer had taken on human characteristics and taunted her: “Fatal Error”. She shut her eyes tight to hold back the tears that were forming in the pit of her chest, her heart hurt. Lord, I am so sick and tired. I don’t even know how to hope. Help me. The words formed in her mind, an unspoken plea that went into the ether, seeking someone, something — seeking. When she opened her eyes the screen had changed: “If this is the first time you’ve seen this Fatal Error message, restart…” She felt a strange sense but didn’t quite know what it was. If ‘belief’ had a feeling, she thought this is what it might feel like. She tentatively hit “Esc”; escape, that felt — right. A ray of light stream over her shoulder from the rising sun, then with a sense of anticipation she sat upright, positioned herself opposite the screen and performed: “Control, Alternate, Delete”…and she felt a small change.

He sat in a dark room in the middle of a moonless night — purposefully dark — no lights on, curtains closed, he had even put black tape on all the electronics to block the led lights. He squinted his eyes to see if he could distinguish shades of darkness. The only light was from his cigarette which he snuffed out in the ceramic mosaic dish as he blindly pushed butts aside to find a bit of hard surface to extinguish the little fire that was left. He remembered the Christmas his Grandpa had made these dishes for everyone. Money was tight that year, and even though the family wasn’t one much for craft projects, that’s what they all decided to do. Grandpa gave up smoking and used the saved coins to bargain with the local junk dealer for the little mosaic tiles. Actually, it was no secret that Grandpa was proud of himself and these little dishes. He missed his Grandpa, and it was odd and maybe disrespectful, but using his dish as an ashtray made him feel closer. The pale blue, green and white tiles once had a gloss; but now they were dull. Dark and dull, that’s how life felt for him as he once again wondered why he couldn’t figure out what he was doing with his life. If only Grandpa were here…but then again, if he were here he’d probably give a lecture, or be angry, or disappointed or kick him in the rear or …. The darkness enveloped him and he felt an undeniable weight on his chest and his throat tightened. He hadn’t cried in years, but this night he mourned in his self-imposed misguided obscurity: “Lord, what hope is there? I am so lost.Burning-match-008 Christmas 2014” Time passed, he thought he’d hear an answer, some sign — but nothing. He pulled out his matches to light another cigarette when he noticed printed on the inside was “Be the Light.” He struck a match watching the light, with excitement he struck another, and another…and he felt a small change.

 

I hear you, but I am trapped in the Pandora Box that is your heart. Release me. Oh do not doubt it, there is definitely evil in this world. It takes many shapes and guises. Please do – not – doubt – it. I know this is not what you want to hear at the time when the birth of Christ, the coming of the Messiah, the time when the Price of Peace is celebrated. People want merriment, happiness in the Holy days, joyousness to abound, to dwell in all that is good, not to hear of that which is malevolent. Yet, here I am, and I am so very sorry, but I must bring this unpleasant reminder of darkness — there is evil in this world it — and it breaks my heart. Release me, break open your heart.

The people cry out in anguish, in disappointment, in emptiness, in confusion, in despair, “Where is Hope?” And then the people, in an act of denial and self-protection close their hearts to further rending. The gates to feeling are locked tight. And evil rejoices.
The people seek. In the still of the night, if one but tries, one can experience peace. In the warmth of being honestly held, if one but accepts, one can experience love. In the innocent giggly smile of a baby, if one but allows, one can experience joy. These moments can happen, without preparation, they happen. But Hope — I am different. To experience Hope, something almost miraculous must happen — one must look for and accept the Light. In the face of the legions of darkness, one must burst open a shackled heart and know without a doubt that this bleak moment in time has only diminishing power.

It typically happens in the hearts of the innocent ones first. So often feeling helpless, they start with small acts: a hug, a treat, sitting quietly, a word of understanding that is wise beyond their years. A candle is lit and an ethereal light begins to permeate the darkness, heavy hearts start to lift, lives starts to change, and as in the story of Pandora’s Box, Hope — I am finally freed, released to strengthen and embolden those who believe. I cannot thrive if I am kept in the Box that is your heart. Open your heart, even if you don’t know what to do next, open your heart, and listen; light a candle, say a prayer, be still, be present. As Hope, I do not often shout; I am a whisper in your soul, the longing that something needs to change to make life better.

Figurine  angel.Oh, do not doubt it, there is definitely evil in the world, I should know. Please, it wearies and weakens me. I need you, just as much as you need me. Do not only believe in a better world, know that it is you for whom I have been hoping.

I love you,
The Angel of Hope

“I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” John 8:12

Our Christmas blessings to you and your family,
Love, Richard and Lisa

Christmas Angel of Hope written by Lisa, 2014

 

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About richardandlisa

Richard is the photographer, typically. Lisa is the writer, typically. We've both been know to cross-genre...is that allowed?
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