For those of you that don’t know, I am putting together a book of essays and commentaries that I have written, spanning over what appears to be the majority of my life. Not that I feel that I have anything unique or novel to say, but rather because it’s just a goal of mine that I intend to see through to the final end. So, for your reading enjoyment (or lack thereof)… here is the very first essay that I ever wrote, not counting high school papers. I was nineteen-years-old when I wrote this idea out. And, for those of you that know me best, you know that I rarely proof or edit anything… so there’s a good chance that this is pretty much exactly what came out. I’m actually re-reading it today for the first time in years.
To put it into perspective… the person who is the main focal point of this essay is now married and has a new child of her own.
Do You Believe in Angels?
by Senator Brett
When people ask me if I believe in angels I always answer with a definite “Yes.” when people ask me if I believe in a place called Heaven it is the same response. And, most of the time, those questions are generally followed by yet another question. The eternal question of “Why?” And, the answer I give to that question is not nearly as complex as you might think.
You know, I wish it were. I wish I had this long, carefully thought out, well-educated answer to give to people. But, the truth is that I don’t. I haven’t studied all the religions of the world. I haven’t been exposed to all the modern philosophies. But, I do have my reasons. And, they are valid, at least to me. There is no deep personal theology involved here, or any God-given Divine revelations. I have not pondered this issue for hours at a time hoping to conjugate some new ideology. And, I’m not, nor do I plan to be, the type of person that would accept someone else’s thoughts on this issue just because they have a doctorate, or because they have written some book on the matter. Or, for that case, I am not willing to readily believe anyone else’s opinion on this constituent just because they spent some time studying philosophy, or because they were top of their class at seminary. Issues like this are more personal. Spiritual beliefs are products that are best made from the heart. And, this is what my heart tells me is Heaven, and angels. It’s really rather simple.
Her name is Adrian. She is eight-years-old. She lives down the street. And, she is my niece.
She looks like everything that you might think an angel should look like. She has long, bright blonde hair and soft fair skin. She has these nice amber eyes that light up with fire when she smiles. She has this small petite body that appears so innocent that you are almost scared to touch her for fear that she might break. She is the very image of all that I consider good, kind and pure.
But, it is more than her outer appearance that makes her angelic to me. It’s the things that she does. Like the way she laughs and giggles with her friends. it’s the way she loves horses, and her mother, and her father, and, well… even me. It’s the way she sighs when she holds a baby. Or, the way she cries when she is hurt or sad. it’s a lot of little things that she does. Like the way she throws her arms around my neck when she hasn’t seen me in a while. Or, the way she hides in closets when she sees me coming. And, some of you might not understand this, but if you have raised kids of your own, and watched them grow, and wished to yourself that they would always be your little baby, well, you’ll understand. It’s her quiet voice that whispers, “i love you” and “Goodnight” at the end of the day. and, it’s that same sweet voice that awakens you that lets you know that no matter what happens that day, everything is going to be all right. It’s the little things that she does, day in and day out, that make her angelic to me.
Now, I understand, of course, that she is not a real angel. All the angels that I have ever seen in paintings have wings and halos. She has neither. And, I’ve never seen her fly. And, I imagine she is not too gifted playing a harp. So… no… she is not a real angel. But, she is my kind of angel. The kind I can see, and feel, and touch. The kind I can pick up and hold close. And, I think that those are the best kinds of angels.
As far as my thoughts about a place called Heaven? Well, that’s a little harder to explain. I know the Bible states that there exist this place where streets are gold and where lakes are made of glass. Where everyone lives in a utopian society where there can be no famine, no sickness, and no death. And, I also know that there are other religions out there that believe in a higher place. A destination somewhere in the afterlife that betters than the one we presently know. And, that’s fine with me. I think it’s good to believe that. And, i sincerely hope that it is true. I hope that what we have here is all that there is. I desperately wish that there is something out there beyond ourselves that is bigger, and brighter, and better than what we see now. But, if there isn’t? Well, I’m okay with that too. Because I found heaven right here… right here in my own little world. There is such a place.
It was my niece, her and me out in the woods on some lonely trail. Nothing grand or spectacular took place. It was just us walking hand-in-hand, picking flowers, and talking. And, we didn’t talk about major issues, just everyday stuff that happens in the life of an eight-year-old. I don’t even remember all that we talked about. and, to be honest, it doesn’t matter to me. Those conversations are great… not because they are of large magnitude, but they are great for the simple fact that they happen at all. And, so, that was it. That was my idea of Heaven. That was my glimpse of a better place. You may disagree. Your idea of Heaven might be totally dissimilar to mine. And, again, that’s fine with me too. But, that was my slice of Utopia.
No. The streets weren’t made of gold. And, the lakes weren’t made of glass either. But, every one of those minutes that I spent out there with her were golden. And, for a brief time, everything in my life was that much easier to see. And, that’s all i needed. If there is nothing more out there after this temporary stay of breath… I’ll manage along just fine as long as I have moments like that to accompany me along the journey.
Do I believe in angels? Do I believe in a place called Heaven? Yes. I do. Her name is Adrian. She is eight-years-old. She lives down the street. And, she is my niece.
May you find the same.
Your Friendly Senator