Saturday, September 26, 2015


          My belief that a child is born an Angel is a cornerstone of my reality. A newborn, an Angel, welcomed and appreciated in an environment of love and goodness, will become a loving human being. Like a sponge they will absorb their surroundings and create their cornerstone for a life of happiness or not.

Sometimes Angels lose their wings. Stories are ways to let wingless Angels know the truth . . . stories of truths that are too difficult to perceive or reflect on by one’s self.

My first Angel story is about a young girl who worshiped her Father. He was her fairy-tale prince and she was his princess. She imagined him like a God. There was nothing he could not do. His gifts were plentiful. Joy surrounded her . . . until . . . one day her happiness disappeared. She was eight years old.

Evie no longer danced and sang her fairy tale songs; no longer dreamed of being a beauty queen or a movie star, or marrying her daddy; no longer was she daddy’s girl. Evie’s heart and soul cracked like the neck of a baby bird fallen from its nest.

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