I believe in angels.

I believe that good teachers who make little or no money and work hard day after day to help children develop physically, emotionally and socially are angels. I believe that people who follow the teachings and pleas of Jesus Christ, the Dalai Lama, or Mother Teresa are angels.

I believe  Botham’s  Jean’s brother  Brandt was an angel in a Dallas courtroom yesterday, come to earth to remind us what it really means to be a Christian and to love and forgive in a country choking on hate and anger.

The other day I put up a photo of a plaster angel I rescued from the garbage dump and brought home and forget. After I took the photo, the angel disappeared, and I asked Maria where it was and she said, “oh, I put it outside, you’ll find it.” She knows I have a thing about angels,  I believe Red and Lenore were Angels.

Rose and Fate and Frieda were not angels. Neither is Bud. Zinnia might be. And Fanny.

I forgot about the angel again and when I went into the barn to water the animals, I saw that Maria had put the angel by the barn window.

As I looked at it, I saw that Lulu was outside the barn window staring at the angel, and for the longest time. I’ve never seen Lulu stare at anything in the barn window before. I’m not sure what it means, but I knew it was a picture.

I suspect the angel may keep moving around our farm. She’s a thing now.