The angel plummeted, not in slow motion trailing flames toward hell, her former beauty twisting into ugliness. She toppled from the mantle so quickly I couldn’t follow her descent to the hearth where she broke a china wing and tiny hand. I was rearranging greens, clumsily it seems, and the pretty thing was maimed.
But not smashed. I put her back, her broken parts toward the wall and carefully tucked the pine and holly around her so she could kneel in her imperfection just as she has done for so many years. We are not idolaters. Things are things and pass away, but our hearts belie our reason, and the child in me imagines her persevering in a state of reduced capacity, just like me.
A touching allegory that reveals God's love. =)
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