In the car tonight, on the way home from church, Lex asked me if angels are real. "Of course," I told her, "They're real."
"Hmm. Well, I've never seen one."
"Well, the angels are like God," I said. "You've never seen Him, have you? But you know He's real."
She thought for a moment, and said, "I can't wait to be an angel."
"Um-Lex: you're not angel," I said.
"But I'm going to be-when I get to Heaven!"
"No, no-you're Alexis, not an angel! Angels are-well, they're angels! You're a human being! When you get there, you're gonna be...well, not an angel; like a spirit human, but not an angel!"
She said, "No, I'm going to be an angel." I argued with her a bit more, until she finally said, "Dad, I'm going to be an angel. I know I am, because my Sunday School teacher told me so." I threatened to call her Sunday School teacher just to set the record straight. But she said no, it didn't matter. "Just wait-when you get to Heaven, find me; you'll see that I'm right!"
And with that, she inspired me. Because, you see, she knows me-all my faults; all my idiosyncricies, the fact that any time I have to do physical labor I get grouchy and yell a lot; I never take the garbage out, and then get gripe when the garbage piles up; and I'm impatient. She knows all this-just ask her, she'll tell you. But, even knowing all that, in her mind, it's settled; she'll see me in Heaven!
Now, I'm firmly convinced that if I do make it to Heaven, it'll be due to a typo in God's big book, or perhaps because God told Peter to take it easy-that PJ's always good for a few laughs-because I know me. I see the real me, and, frankly, sometimes, it seems hopeless. But then Lex comes along and reminds me that true love sees past all that, and sees the man I'm trying to be, and that man-he can make it!
And so, no, I'll never be an angel, but I think, if I can remember that God, like Lex, actually loves me, I'll make it! I think I'll be ok!