Old folks used to tell about whenever babies look beyond you and giggle, they’re being touched by an angel. I think babies are angels themselves; their wings diminish as their limbs start to grow. When Michelangelo saw an angel in a marble, he immediately carved it right out of it’s stone.
Anyone can be an angel. In San Ramon, I took notice of this young man who was tireless in tending the needs of the people in the town cemetery. It was almost Todos Los Santos and everyone wanted their gardens well-prepared. He was everywhere.
It’s awesome to be blessed, but some people really prefers to be a blessing. My way of giving the hand a big hand: