Do you know what a cherub is? It’s a little baby with wings. It’s pink and chubby. It’s supposed to be an angel. And I dunno, maybe there are angels like that in the Bible or what have you, but how could they possibly be of any use? Have you read the Bible? I mean the cool parts when an angel shows up. They’re intimidating. Every time. If a little winged baby showed up right now, you’d bend down and pinch its cheeks. You wouldn’t need it to say Be not afraid, which is classic angel intro talk.
And frankly, angels annoy me. Did you ever watch that show Touched by An Angel? Every episode two to three angels show up and help someone get over their issues with God. I mean it’s a positive show and there’s always a happy ending but life gets dark, and it gets dangerous. There’s a child on this planet right now sleeping under a tree, starving. There are children with automatic weapons fighting to stay alive. There are child predators and slavers. And those are just the dangers in this world I can think of without bursting into tears. Well almost.
BUTTERFLIES! PUPPIES! BIG BIRD!
Phew! Ok. Angels. So I figure, if you’re in trouble I mean real honest to goodness life or death peril, you don’t want cupid to show up and squee at the bad guy. You want an impossibly big Doberman to show up and help you out. Or a dude that’s impossibly tall and can kick really hard.
Whatever sort of Above you believe in, I think we can all agree that if someone’s going to be sent down to bail us out of trouble, we want them to look the part.
Once, during my middle-school years I was in my garage, probably putting away the garbage. I’m about to walkout the side door just a few steps from the kitchen door and I see this cockroach. Now I’m from Texas, and if you need to know one thing about that state, everything is bigger there. I mean the fireants alone are as big as your thumbnail.
They. Can. Fly!
So I was stuck…because I was scared of having a giant bug fly into my face but whatever. I couldn’t open the garage door because it was broken. Through that doorway was my only escape. I started to wonder how long I could live in my garage. Motor oil was probably chock-full of protein or something right?
Outside the garage was the family dog, Kofi. Well, she was my dog. I got her for my birthday and she was my responsibility, but the whole family doted on her. So she’s outside leashed to this trolley thing because we didn’t have a full fence and we wanted to make sure she could get her exercise.
Well she’s outside the doorway of the garage, looking at me like I’m crazy because I won’t come out and pet her like she knew I’d planned to do. She’s stretched to her limit on her leash trying to figure me out. But I’m just standing there waiting for Poppa Roach to skedaddle. Finally he does. He skitters around the doorjamb and outside.
But now I’m worried that if I go out the door he’ll still get startled and fly into my face.
That’s when Kofi sprang into action.
Stretched to the limit on her leash, she jumped up at the doorjamb and clawed at the Progenator of All Cockroaches. Then I watched her watch it scuttle off. Then she looked at me as if to say: “All clear”.
So I exited (re: leaped) the garage, and when I stopped to give my dog a good rub, I saw no trace of the mythologically immense cockroach.
So why then are my angel-types not shown as classic angel-types? Well for starters, that iconic look has been reserved for the Persons of Light. And second, I’d much rather have Kofi at my side any day of the week than Roma Downey or Michael Landon.
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