Angels do abound.

I very much believe in the unseen celestial ones that watch over us day and night.

But today, I’m speaking of the more earth-bound and visible sort we encounter in our everyday lives.

Last weekend, there was a whole band of angels on hand at Greenville’s First Baptist Church.

You would have recognized many of the faces and voices seen and heard as those of your friends, neighbors, teachers, counselors, co-workers and former classmates.

Many of these gracious ladies have made (and continue to make) such a positive impact on my life.

I know they have done the same for many of you.

Oh, they may not have an elegant pair of wings; their haloes might sit a bit ‘catty-wampus’ on their lovely craniums.

Nonethe-less, they are ministering angels, sharing their hospitality, encouragement, wisdom and kindness with those they encounter.

It took many of them working together to bring off an event like &uot;Crosswalks&uot; and make it a success—and boy, they did just that.

Everything was splendid—from the well-prepared seminar instructors, to the fine musicianship of Eileen Wright and Karrie Murfin, right down to the delicious homemade lunch wrapped in gauzy ribbon (what a pretty, feminine touch!).

Kudos are deserved by all those angels who had a hand in planning, praying for and putting on this wonderful biannual event.

Ladies, if you didn’t make it, I strongly encourage you to plan to attend in 2005.

While space limitations won’t allow me to elaborate on all that I gleaned from this year’s Crosswalk, I will be sharing more with our readers in upcoming articles

I just wish I could have sat in on all nine of the seminars instead of only three!

Again, thanks, local ‘angels’.

Long may you soar!

My mother and I were so blessed by our Sunday visit to my dad.

It had been such a very long time—months, actually—since we’d had much physical response from him.

Mom and I had come to face our visits with a certain degree of dread.

There's been a profound sadness that settles over us each time we leave him. We always wonder what (if anything) he will remember or understand from our visits.

But Sunday was different.

Daddy’s eyes were open.

They stayed open.

He was visibly listening, reacting, even trying to talk a little.

We hadn’t heard him say anything since last year.

The speech was too garbled for us to understand that afternoon but it sounded as sweet as Shakespeare’s most august words.

I’m thinking those angels might be working overtime.

Thanks to all who continue to pray for Daddy and to all who ask about him.