Broken Angels

Last night late, after a few glasses of glugg, I finally got myself in the mood for decorating my poor tree. My bare tree was too much of a reflection of my soul as of late, with just a few lights perking it up. I put on one of my favorite CDs called In Search of Angels, and started hauling out the decorations.

I put on the 2 or 3 dozen glass icicles that we bought from this little old man at a fair several years ago. Larry came in and reminded me that the man had died and he was so glad that he had purchased them from him. Thanks Larry for setting the tone for the evening! So with each icicle I hung I felt a deep sadness for this man who loved glass. When I got to two beautiful snowflakes made from porcelain, I remembered my friend Mary who gave them to me. She was one of the first people who loved me unconditionally right up to the day she died. She died very young of cervical cancer and was the most amazing role model for putting up a fight with dignity and love. I have a sweet collection of ornaments given to me by various people over the years, thank GOD most of them still alive. Each one I hung whispered soft memories in my heart.

I came to the angel ornament and put it back. I used to collect angels and over the years something has happened to each one. They get knocked over by cats or people, or things mysteriously fly across the room and knock them down. I have a collection of handicapped angels that will never fly again because they are missing a wing.I figured I was saving this one from a similar fate. Later on it mysteriously appeared on the tree. Larry said, "oh, I want this one out". I did not say anything, but murmured a little prayer for its safety. I did tell him I am no longer collecting angels, that I am going to stick to pixies and elves because I relate to them so much better.

Then I remembered my mantle, which houses two sculptures which I bought because they were broken. A head from a statue, and a beautiful cherub torso from a 19th century architectural piece. They were beautiful in their imperfections, as were my collection of broken angels. (they are in the photo)

I mused about it for a while and realized we are all broken angels, our characters chipped, wings clipped, but we still strive to fly. My broken angel collection will forever be a reminder of the strength of love and of the human spirit. And that we can all fly in our dreams and imaginations.

To my friends who are MY angels, a kiss and a long warm hug to you, and may visions of sugar plums or something REALLY good, dance in your hearts tonight.

Patti