A Story of Lost Christmas Angels

I want to thank those of you who left comments about the photograph on my last post. I really do enjoy taking photos. Photos fill the gaps in my not so great writing, and help to communicate what I'm thinking and feeling better than words.

I have our Christmas decorations sitting out waiting to be placed. As I was going through them, I came across two kissing angels. I treasure these Christmas angels because they were given to me 25 years ago this Christmas by my best friend. They come with a story, so I think I will let him tell you himself. Welcome, guest blogger . . . my Hubby . . .


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It was Christmastime, and my sweetheart was 600 miles away.
All I could think about was not being with her. I was miserable.
Then I came up with the next best thing: I would send her The Perfect Gift.
All I had to do was find it.

The jewelry store had dazzling gems and shining gold and silver trinkets, but it wasn't there.
I found lovely scarves and delightful ornaments, but it wasn't among them.
I was beginning to think a nice card would have to suffice – and then I saw them, standing together.
In minutes, I was on my way to the post office.

The long line of fellow last-minute gift mailers finally brought me to a clerk, just before closing time.
"Three dollars and sixty cents," he said.
I had three fifty.
"Um, I need another ten cents," I mumbled, hoping the Christmas spirit would work its magic on him.
He stared at me until I said, "I'll be back," and slunk out of line.

After digging through my empty pockets for the fifth time, I wandered the halls, scanning the floors desperately for a dime. Finally, with moments left, I called out for help. "Lord, all I need is a dime. Please, just a dime."
Rounding the same corner once again, I saw it there on the floor, waiting for me.
Merry Christmas, my dear!

But Christmas came and went for my sweetheart with no kissing angels.
New Year's Day passed, then Valentine's Day, but no angels.
They faded from my mind.

We were apart once again for Spring Break, when she called.
"They're wonderful! I love them!"
"Love what?" I asked.
"The angels! They're here!"
"What angels?" I asked again. Oh . . .
"Thank you so much!" she said.
"Merry Christmas, at last," I answered.

It was my first experience with the phrase, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder."
It was also my first experience with the importance of knowing the right address.