The article of the month

The Holy Guardian Angels by Jennifer Hubbard

No longer the restless little boy peeking over the pew, he sat confidently praying, his head gently resting on the fingertips of his emerging man hands. I am drawn into the sacred moment as, like a mist that silently envelops an awakening landscape, a soft voice arises and sings to my soul. I am left breathless as the truth fills the church.

After my little one died, I received notes filled with encouragement. I would find myself lingering over the ones that were certain I had an angel watching over me or promised my angel was with me. Assurances similar to the one I gave my brave one on the day we laid his sister to rest : surely she would be with him all the days of his life ; surely he had an angel in his midst. In the weeks, months, and years that would follow, somehow I forgot this and I would beckon them. I would call them in when all else seemed futile - armies of angels to surround him or to be a companion for the broken-hearted.

The sweet serenade and his sacred posture remind me of the communion of heaven and earth. The words of the hymn sing truth, “I can hear the rush of angels’ wings, I can feel his mighty grace.” We need not summon ; we need simply to rest in knowing the angels are among us all the days of our lives. They are our guardians, our guides, and our constant companions. Surely, I can feel the rush of their wings ever so slightly brush my cheek and know: they are in this space.


  Jennifer Hubbard resides in Newtown, Conn. The younger of her two children, Catherine Violet, was a victim of the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting in 2012.