She Talks to Angels

She Talks to Angels

         Delighted laughter erupted shrill and innocent within the fenced back yard. Sandy's mother looked through the screen of the back door and saw her six year old daughter squatting by the elm tree poking at something with a stick. Her smile was soon followed by a frown as she listened to the young chatter.

         "Mommy calls these box elder bugs." Sandy spoke with the matter-of-factness of a young lecturer as she continued to poke at the bugs with a stick. "Mommy says that pesty men have to come and spray the tree. The bugs are getting in the house...a lot."

         There was a quiet lull to the lecture as Sandy looked up at something behind the tree. Just as the young mother turned to move back toward the kitchen sink, she heard her daughter speak again.

         "Oh! Yes, indeed." Dorothy recognized the formula as something she often said and Sandy mimicked her precise tone. A proud smile crossed over her face as she wondered who her daughter was pretending to talk to.

         "I know! And that is such a sad shame.” Sandy stood and dropped the stick. She frowned and hung her head. “Mommy said she went to sleep and didn't feel any pain." She heaved a sigh as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders.

         Dorothy's eyes misted. Of course, her daughter was talking about her little cousin who died not more than a month ago. She’d just slipped away from this world after a serious illness. Sandy had been so full of questions and Dorothy had tried to explain about the special place for children in heaven as best as she could. Now she listened to her little girl as she pretended with one of her imaginary friends.

         "Oh no! Don't be sad and cry. Mommy says she is in heaven and has smiles all the time." She swiped the back of her tiny hand over her cheek and dried the tears there. "Mommy says she is so very happy and can sit on Jesus's lap any time she wants to. But my eyes miss her, see?" With that she held her hand for someone to see.

         Dorothy craned her neck from one side to the other to see if she could catch a glimpse of anyone behind the tree. She found herself struggling with the familiar tightness in her throat as tears slid over her cheeks. Her hand covered her mouth to shield the sob trying to escape.

         "Can I tell that to Mommy? Mommy may feel better if I do." Sandy gave a quick nod of affirmation then ran toward the back door. Her mother hurriedly wiped the tears from her cheeks as she pushed open the screen.

         "Mommy! The bright lady said I can tell you about cousin Jenny.”

         Dorothy squatted so she was at eye level with her daughter. “What can you tell me , dear?

         "Oh Mommy, the bright lady said our tears are jewels and very precious." Sandy then took her finger and touched her mother's wet cheek.

         "Our tears are jewels? You said a bright lady told you?" Dorothy looked again over by the tree wondering at her daughter's imaginations.

         "Oh yes! Mommy. The angel said that every tear is a gift because it comes from our love.”

         Dorothy wiped her wet cheeks. "You say you spoke to an angel, dear?"

         "The angel told me about precious tears."

         She picked up her daughter in a loving embrace partly to hide her growing frown of disbelief. Yet, as she turned away from the back door, Dorothy thought she saw a movement of light in the shadow of the elm.

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