Faith is abstract. Non-believers joke about the invisible, imaginary friend in the sky. We seem foolish, naive, even dumb. Fools for Christ? I will take it. With children, however, abstractions are incredibly difficult. Like Saint Thomas, they often need something more concrete.
When she was five our middle daughter, Katherine, had a spate of nightmares. Every night she woke from sleep, weeping and seeking comfort. We blessed her room, she made her cross, and she said her prayers. Christ was with her, the Theotokos was with her, her angel was with her, but she could not see them or feel them. They did not seem as near to her as did the terrors of her dreams.
After weeks of struggles, one night I slipped into Katherine’s room and found her peacefully asleep. Tucked between her and her favorite stuffed animals was her guardian angel icon. With head turned towards the icon, Katherine’s little hand, complete with prayer rope, rested completely on her guardian, beautifully mirroring the image of the child being led by the angel. The physical icon of Katherine, the physical icon of the angel, both revealed the spiritual truth of a loving and merciful Father. That window in heaven that bridged a gap between hearing the tale and feeling His side. And she could see, feel her guardian angel taking her, Katherine, by her outstretched hand.
Jennifer Moore lives in Steubenville, Ohio with her husband, Father Matthew, and their three daughters and three rescue parrots. They serve and attend All Saints Greek Orthodox Church in Weirton, West Virginia. Jennifer is the godmother of two, a writer, believer in the healing power of literature, and lover of all things lemon.
