Angel Michael: A Birthday Miracle

The Hilcrest air hung thick with salt and spring blossoms, a cruel mockery of the storm raging inside me. It was my birthday, and Henry, true to form, had gifted me an hour of venom before I opened my shop. His words were like acid, dissolving what little faith I had left. Henry’s hour-long tirade, designed to dismantle every ounce of worth I possessed. "Happy birthday," he'd snarled, the words laced with venom, "hope you choke on it."

Thirty-seven years old, and this is my life. I plastered on a smile, the kind I’d perfected over years of hiding bruises, and opened the shop.

Rose, my quiet anchor, saw through the facade. Her Asian eyes held a depth of compassion that shamed me. She moved through the day like a guardian, deflecting Henry’s lingering darkness. Rose, my steadfast employee, did her best to shield me from the well-meaning birthday wishes that felt like salt in an open wound. I was a shell, going through the motions, desperately clinging to the frayed edges of my faith.

Then, around nine, as we were closing up, he appeared. A tall, gaunt black man stepped off the bus, looking utterly out of place. He wore clothes that belonged to a different era; black hat, leather coat, and beige pants. His presence was unsettling, like a character from a film noir. looking utterly displaced in our vibrant Hillcrest neighborhood. When he stepped off the bus, an aura of quiet intensity surrounded him. Rose and I exchanged glances – maybe visiting a son? - but there was something unsettlingly deliberate about his approach.

"Can I sit here?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. His voice was deep, resonant, as if from another world. I nodded, my usual forced politeness kicking in.

"I've been on a long mission," he said, his gaze distant. "Euclid Avenue," he said when I asked where he was from. A two-hour bus ride.

Rose, ever perceptive, fetched him water. He drank deeply, a silent gratitude on his face. When he finished, his eyes met mine. "Isn't it your birthday?"

My breath caught. A chill ran down my spine. How could he possibly know? I'd never seen him before. "Yes," I whispered, with apprehension tightening its grip.

Then came the unbelievable. He stated matter-of-factly, "The Angel Michael told me it was your birthday today, and I had to tell you a joke." He paused, a strange solemnity in his eyes. "A sucker went into See's Candy and said, 'Stick 'em up!'"

It was so corny, so utterly unexpected, that a genuine chuckle escaped my lips. A real smile, breaking through the layers of pain. How did Angel Michael know? A flicker of warmth ignited in the icy cavern of my depression. Angel Michael? Corny humor? It was so unexpected, so me. How did he know my love for terrible jokes?

"I have to go now," he said, rising abruptly. "My wife will be worried." He walked across the street, boarded the next bus heading back to Euclid, leaving Rose and me in stunned silence.

Rose and I stared at each other, completely speechless. "What was that?!" she finally exclaimed.

I didn't know. All I knew was that in my darkest hour, a messenger, sent by an angel, had delivered a lifeline. The suicidal thoughts didn't magically vanish, the bruises still ached, but something had shifted. A crack of light appeared in the darkness. Someone, somewhere, was watching. God was watching. I wasn't alone. God hadn't abandoned me.

Years later, long after the shop closed and I’d rebuilt my life far from Henry’s reach, I asked Rose if she remembered the man. To my surprise, she didn't. Perhaps the message wasn't for her, but for me. A desperate sign, a divine intervention.

I still struggle, but I haven't forgotten that unexpected birthday gift. I now know angels are real. They aren't just bedtime stories or sentimental images on greeting cards. They are God's messengers, working in ways we can't comprehend. They intervene, not always in grand gestures, but in small acts of kindness, whispers of hope, and corny jokes sent by divine messengers. That day, an angel, came disguised as a weary traveler, reminded me I was loved, not forgotten. That I was worth saving. It reminded me of the truth that had been buried deep in my heart. And now, when I feel lost in the dark abyss of depression, I remember that even in the most isolating moments, I'm not alone. "For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways." - Psalm 91:11

AUTHOR: Sarah Lester

LOCATION: United States