Her name was Rebecca. I knew it as sure as any child knows her imaginary friend is real. She was invisible to everyone else, but I saw her, clear as day.
Rebecca had brown hair down to her waist. The tips would swing and dip into the brook while we looked for pebbles. There was no end to our adventures around my grandparents farm. We searched for owls in the orchard, sought out kittens in the hayloft or collected leaves on a fall day.
Rebecca didn’t come into my house—she waited for me in the crooks of trees, or down by the brook. She sat by me while I drew, something I loved. I believed in my friend just as I believed in God. I couldn’t see him the way I saw Rebecca, but somehow, because of her, I knew he was with me.
Rebecca was my little secret. I didn’t even tell Grandpa Max and Grandma Mexie. I grew up on their Michigan farm after my parents separated when I was two, and I didn’t really have a friend until Rebecca appeared. I don’t remember when I first saw her, but she was always with me during those growing-up years.
Then in high school Rebecca got relegated to a pigeonhole in my mind. I didn’t see her for a long while, but I still had my little secret. Somehow I believed she’d be with me forever.
“Forever” was the way I felt with Michael. We met on a blind date in college. “We’ll always be together,” we promised. But after only nine years of marriage I stood by the grave at his funeral. God, I asked, what happened to forever? As if in a reply I sensed a presence, close and comforting. There among the trees I saw Rebecca. My heart leaped. I hadn’t thought of her for years, but I wasn’t surprised that she’d come.
I’d never told anyone my secret, not even Michael. I wanted to go to her, but someone distracted me with a question. When I looked back my old friend was slipping into the woods, her head bowed.
In 1991 I returned to college to get a master’s degree. My hair was graying, and I was surrounded by students young enough to be my children. That is, if I’d had any. I hadn’t married again. I’d met some interesting men, one in particular named Craig. We dated off and on, and sometimes talked about marriage. But I’d resisted. Hadn’t I learned that nothing lasts?
I decided to concentrate on getting my degree and put some distance between Craig and me.
The morning of my first midterm exam I was a wreck. I had to do well if I was going to continue in the program. Don’t let your nerves get the best of you, I told myself. Scrunched over the desk, I felt a familiar presence behind me, so comforting I didn’t have to see her to know.
Sensing Rebecca there made me feel sure of myself, and as young as the girl who ran to the creek to hunt for pretty stones with her best friend. I aced the midterm that day and eventually earned my master’s.
Not long after, Craig invited me to a medieval festival. I had to admit I was happy to hear his voice. Craig and I had more fun than we’d had in years. There was something timeless about the costumes and the outdoor celebration. It struck that “forever” chord in me that I thought I’d put aside.
I couldn’t let my past keep me from having a future. Craig and I saw more of each other and soon I could no longer deny my feelings. We chose an outdoor medieval wedding.
I sewed my dress and 50 costumes for our guests. The weather that day was perfect. Then, completing the first turn in the traditional procession around my groom, I saw Rebecca. She was dressed in a beige robe with a rope belt, her feet bare on the grass. She reached up to touch the branch of a crab-apple tree, a gesture of hope and new life.
Joy filled my heart. I made my second turn and looked for her, but she was gone. I felt that she had come to bless us. God seemed close. Especially when Craig and I made our wedding promise to each other: “Forever and ever and a day.”
Who is Rebecca? Is she real? I have no simple answer to that question. She is real for me. An ever-present love. She will be with me forever, even when it is my time to leave this earth.
All that is left to reveal of my secret is that the last time I saw her, standing under the crab-apple tree, Rebecca was in one way different from all the other times I’ve ever seen her. Rebecca had angel’s wings.
Read more stories about heavenly angels and angels on earth.
