angels

Gifts from My Angel

| Flower Roberts

I opened a special package this morning. The gifts were given by the two beautiful daughters of my soulmate, Sandra who died in July of 2024.

Treasures from Sandra

Sandra’s two girls were about the same age as my son and Rose. We went to the same church for decades. Our families were involved in many of the church’s children’s activities together.

This meant that we spent alot time laughing together. Things never go as planned when young ones are involved.I remember vividly when Sandra and I were supposed the be helping with the Christmas program. The two of us were sitting on the floor out of sight of the audience facing the stage. I think our role was to mouth the words of the songs for the young performers to mimic.

Mayhem broke out on stage. Angels were everywhere. Hay was pulled out of the manger and thrown. Lines were forgotten. Wings were bent, halos were tilted. I think someone picked up rubber baby Jesus.

One of us looked at the other and mouthed the word, ” Fiasco.” We both burst out laughing while doubled over on the floor of the sanctuary. Modeling singing and mature behavior became impossible.

This is who we were together. One word or facial expression was all we needed to communicate. Sandra’s photo is by my bed. I miss her every day. Sometimes when I see something hilarious I start to think…” I need to tell Sandra.”

Now, she is my angel. Her symbol for me is the hummingbird. She is missed greatly but somehow I feel her with me.

Her girls sending me these treasures is proof that she is still doing things here. How did they know to give me a Nativity pin and an angel? Maybe they heard the ‘Fiasco Story’ from her or maybe Sandra told them what treasures to share with her buddy Flower?

Thank you girls.

Flower

The Butterflies and the Figs

| Flower Roberts

I am a scientist, but I believe in signs. Mine come from nature.

Today was tough. I won’t share my troubles. I needed to be alone.

I went down to sit in my sad chair. It’s where I sit to sort out my crises.

I was pondering my problems when I was distracted by fluttering in the fig.

This is the “Miss Robbie” fig tree. It has a history.

That history did not include butterflies until today.

Now we can say these flutterbys were passing through and stopped for a snack.

This may be true, but this is the first time of my seeing them on a thirty-year-old fig tree.

Mama was on my mind and Miss Robbie was sending me a sign.

She is on the other side with my daddy you see.

They probably saw me crying in the sad chair and felt compelled to send those butterflies.

They may have been angels stopping by to put my troubled mind at ease.

Nature has a way of healing me when I am hurting.

All I have to do is be still.

Flow