Angel in Blue Jeans

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Angel in Blue Jeans

Frances Wilcox Matheson

For he will order his angels to protect you wherever you go. They will hold you up with their hands so you won’t even hurt your foot on a stone.

Psalm 91:11-12 (NLT)

We were on our way by bus from Brasilia to Cuiaba in central-western Brazil to spend Christmas with friends. My over-stuffed shoulder bag hung on my left shoulder. Our nine month old son was balanced on my left hip. My right shoulder was weighted down with the carry-on bag and I had our five year old son’s hand firmly gripped with my right hand. My husband had gone to the other end of the crowded station to check two suitcases.

Vendors of tangerines, candied apples, popcorn, and cotton candy lent a circus-like atmosphere. Beggars leaned against the walls, or shuffled through the crowd. My eyes were drawn to two beggars. One had a crutch, but was neither using it nor limping as she pushed her way towards me. The other’s legs were wrapped in stained bandages. Beggars are not unusual, but what startled me was the malice in their look. In all of our travels, we had met with nothing but friendliness. Now I was afraid, for our belongings and for our blond boys. I glanced behind me, a three foot drop off the edge of the platform. Theft they might try in the crowd, would they be so bold as to attempt a kidnapping? I breathed a quick prayer, as they came closer. The sense of danger grew. 

“Don’t be afraid. Those two mean you evil, but they won’t harm you while I’m here,” said a pleasant voice in Portuguese. Surprised, I turned. Beside me stood a college age girl in blue jeans and a white blouse. I hadn’t seen her come. I looked back at the two beggars. When they saw my glance, they shook their fists at me, turned, and melted into the crowd..

“My husband’s coming now.” I said, as I turned to thank her. No one was there.

We boarded our next bus with no further adventures. As I watched the moon-silvered fields of rice unwind past my window, I wondered. Do angels ever wear blue jeans?