Mornings usually find me raring to go, but today I dragged myself into work after a night of insomnia. Reading, counting sheep, soft music–nothing soothed me into a sleepy state.
Lying there frustrated and miserable in the dark, I thought the only thing that might have comforted me was a hug from my mom. She’d been dead for years, but still I often missed feeling her arms around me.
My coworker Gloria met me on the way to my desk. “Surprise!” she said, handing me a small blue box. “I knew you had to have this because you love angels so much.”
It was true. Gloria had heard me talk about angels dozens of times. Too bad they couldn’t help me last night, I thought as I opened the box. Inside was a small, round medal. Funny, I didn’t see any angels on it.
“Oh, no!” Gloria said, looking into the box. “I must have picked up the wrong one!”
I admired the mother and child on the front and read the message on back: Daughter, know that my arms will always be around you.
The wrong gift? It was just the right gift. Angels had helped me after all.
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