Angel encounter

We stood in front of the Little Free Library perusing the books. As we flipped through the selections, we were also busy munching on frozen Dilly Bars. We'd just picked them up prior to stopping at the book box. Although it was a chilly day, the treat sounded too good to pass up, especially since it was dairy free. 

A few minutes later, I heard a male voice saying, "Ma'am? Ma'am." Turning to see who was speaking to us, I noticed a black man standing on the sidewalk. His appearance indicated he was either homeless or very down on his luck. A tattered jacket, unkempt hair, and dirty clothing spoke volumes. As he leaned on his walking stick, I offered a greeting. In a soft voice, he said, "I sure am hungry. I could use a chicken dinner or something." At that very moment my heart broke. I hadn't brought my purse with me and didn't have a dime to my name. My daughter had purchased our ice cream and she didn't have any other money on her person either. Instantly, I apologized and then, doing the first thing that came to mind, I held out the rest of my ice cream bar (which was about half eaten) and said, "Sir, if you'd like to have it and if you wouldn't mind eating after me, I'll be more than happy to give you my ice cream." He refused and smiled. As he turned his body to move up the sidewalk, I glanced down at his shoes. He was wearing old brown work boots and his shoes were untied, the laces dragging on the ground. I don't know why, but I had the strongest urge to go over to him, kneel in front of him, and tie his laces for him but before I could make my way over to him, He was gone! My daughter and I stood dumbfounded between the book box and the sidewalk. Neither of us had seen him leave. 

Did we have an angel encounter? We're not sure. But what I do know is this - I felt horrible that I wasn't able to help the man in any way. Yes, I was kind to him, but I didn't do anything to meet his physical need. He was hungry and wanted money for food, but I had none to give him. I felt silly afterward having offered him a half-eaten ice cream bar, but it was all I had. 

As my daughter and I left the area, I told her I was going to make a point of being prepared in case I ever faced a situation like that again. 

Was the man an angel with skin on? I don't know. Or was he just a guy in search of quick money to buy a bottle of liquor or drugs? I have no idea. I prefer to think he was an angel because of his quick disappearance. If we'd thought quickly, we could have offered to go and buy the man food with my daughter's bank card, but before we had the chance to process the encounter, he was gone. 

Maybe God allowed that quick meeting to test our hearts - to see if our motives were pure, or maybe He used the meeting to prompt us to realize how blessed we are. I'm sure we'll never truly understand but it did make us think. 

All the way home I felt horrible. I'm a fixer at heart - a fixer with the gift of mercy. Being unable to help the man bothered me terribly. 

I still wonder why I was fixated on his untied boots and why I felt the need to kneel in front of him and tie his laces. It was the strangest feeling. 

One day, when I get to heaven, I'm going to ask God about that day. I'm sure He'll have a perfect explanation for me, and I'll look forward to hearing the details. 

I've had several encounters with angels unawares in the past so I don't doubt the man could have been an angel. In each past event, God has allowed me to cross paths with someone in need. In many of the cases, I was able to help but in some of them, I was the one who received the blessing. I guess this meeting was a teaching moment reminding me to always be ready in season and out of season. I'd have loved to have talked to the man about Jesus, but I didn't get the chance because he disappeared so quickly. And if my daughter hadn't been with me to see him too, I wouldn't have believed it. 

Many people don't believe in angels being here on Earth. I believe God allows them to take on human form when necessary. Sometimes He uses them to comfort us, to bring a word of encouragement, or for other reasons only He understands and ordains. If you've never experienced an angel encounter, perhaps one day you will. Believe me when I tell you, you won't see wings peeking out from underneath their clothing. They look like regular folks, just like you and I. The best advice I can give is to treat them with love and kindness. Listen closely and ask God for discernment. The encounters are rare, but always for a reason. 

Art, art, and more art!

I never considered myself an artist, although I wanted to be. Since I was a very young child, I'd loved to dabble in all types of art mediums. From the moment I held my first crayon, I'd fallen in love with art.

In grammar school, although I didn't have many tools in the way of art supplies, I found my finger was useful. When I was working on a project for a local social science fair, I chose to do my report on Brazil. For weeks, I read everything I could find on South America. My project was going to focus on the art of bull fighting and the rigorous training fighters must endure. As I compiled my information and wrote my report, I wanted to add a visual aid. Digging through my mother's closet, I found an old canvas and some used oil paints. (She liked to dabble, too.) Flipping through the pages of a large book I'd checked out from the library, I found a photo of a bull. That photo became my inspiration.

I had no idea how to use oil paints back then and was unfamiliar with their properties. But in my haste to complete my project, I sketched the bull's head enlarging it to fill the entire canvas.

I had no brushes with which to paint. My mother's art days had been long ago and apparently she'd thrown out her old and worn brushes. What a dilemma! What could I use? I didn't have time to beg, borrow, or steal brushes. It was after 11:00 p.m. and my project was due the following morning. So, I had to become creative. Ingenuity led me to look at the ten digits on my hands. Maybe they would work.

I took a dab of black oil paint and gently placed it on the canvas just inside the area I'd sketched for the bull's ear. Taking my little finger, I began to smooth and spread the paint into the areas it needed to be and found, by taking extreme patience and care, I could manipulate the paint to do what I needed it to do.

I continued working on the painting until three or 4 in the morning and then lay down to rest. When it was time to get up and get ready for school, I gathered my things and started to head out to my mother's waiting car. As I pressed the painting to my body, I realized the paint had not dried completely! What was I going to do?

When I arrived at school, I went into the girls' bathroom. Their, hanging on the wall, was a convenient hand dryers Holding the painting beneath the dryer, I used the other hand to press and turn it on. I stood there as long as possible trying to dry my painting but knew I'd have to get to class soon or be counted absent.

Thankfully, when I returned to class, the teacher was telling us it was time to go and prepare our displays. That's when I realized no one would touch my painting but me as we set up our presentations. The teacher explained that judging would begin the following week, that would give my art time to dry!

By the time the judges reviewed the work, my painting was dry to the touch. I was thankful I'd had sense enough not to use a lot of paint in my work. I'd skimmed on tiny amounts of paint while using my fingers to work it into the canvas.

I can still see the tips of my fingers that day at school. They were covered in dried paint. I'd scrubbed my hands before school but the oil paint was difficult to remove so I'd gone to school with black, brown, and deep red stained fingertips.

Fast forward to my post active breast cancer stage and I find myself loving to paint again. This time I've graduated from using my fingers regularly to only using them on occasion. I paint with acrylics now instead of oils because I'm an impatient person and don't want to wait for the paint to dry.

Painting has helped me pass the time and I've found, when I'm painting, I don't think about my health.

Yesterday, I participated in a local event called Free Art Friday. It's an event where artists create works of art and then randomly place them around the downtown area for people to find and take home. It's a great way to bless others and my husband and I often enjoy watching the finders as they discover my works of art.

Not only do I hide art and give it away for free, I often send packages to friends or family without their prior knowledge. Giving is a gift I enjoy just about as much as I do creating.

My theme for the past month has been angels. There's a verse in the Bible, Psalm 91:11, that says, "For He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways." That verse seems very fitting to write on the back of my paintings. When I send those paintings off in the mail, it is my prayer that the recipient will know that God is always watching over them.

Art is therapeutic and I'm thankful I discovered it at a very young age. I hope I'll still have the energy to create well into my 90s, that's the plan anyway! And hopefully, my hands won't be too shaky to hold a brush, but if they are, I know how to use my fingers.