There is an elementary school right across the street from the office where I work. I drive past the playground every day, and on my trips back from lunch last fall I began to notice somebody special. He's a little guy, probably six or seven years old. He has bright red hair, glasses and a wheelchair. While the other children play on the swings or run among the trees, his wheelchair is parked against the inside of the fence nearest the highway.
He spends his recess watching the cars go by.
I've missed him over the winter months, but now that the days are lighter and warmer, he is once again back at his post.
I feel badly that this little boy can't run and play with the other kids, but rest assured, he is never alone. Behind his wheelchair stands a brawny man; he has a dark complexion, bushy black hair and beefy arms. He looks quiet and unassuming; sometimes I've seen them laughing together, but for the most part he simply stands and guards his charge. It must get tiring at times, I'm sure his job holds many challenges. But there he is each day, watching over the little boy like a sentry.
He looks the picture of a guardian angel. And every time I see him, I wonder about mine.
The Bible isn't silent about angels, but in my mind they are shrouded in mystery. Do I indeed have my very own? Does he protect me when I forget to lock my door, or prompt me to drive a different route that will keep me from being in an accident? Maybe his roll in my life is less physical...perhaps God instructs him to comfort me when I'm sad or lonely, or encourage my spirit when I need it.
I wonder if God assigns multiple angels to a disabled child like this special little red head. Heaven knows he will need angelic assistance as he navigates this world with his limited physical abilities. Then again , when it comes to the areas of insight and understanding, compassion and faith, I suspect this little boy may run farther and faster than I can. Maybe I am the disabled one.
And maybe my guardian angel has the harder job after all.