I asked God to let me see angels at work in my life, but like with anything else, be careful what you wish for, right?

Especially since I know that God has a sense of humor.

A God-sized sense of humor, if you ask me. Here’s why:

Back in early December, we decided we wouldn’t set up a Christmas tree this year because we planned to spend December 22-26 in New York City.  Since our first grandchild arrived there in October, we decided to make this Christmas an event with all our kids in the Big Apple. Privately, I wondered if I’d miss a festive tree in our house; it would be the first time in our 40 years of marriage that my hubby and I didn’t put up a tree. The thought made me a little sad.

Then we attended a Christmas dinner party for my husband’s orchid society. At the end of the dinner, the table centerpieces were awarded at each table to whoever found a winner sticker attached to the underneath of their dinner plate.

I won!

The centerpiece was a small lighted Christmas tree.

I got my Christmas tree after all, even if it was only 12 inches tall, instead of 7 feet.

Kind of funny, don’t you think?

Synchronicity? Random chance? An angel making sure I sat in the right place at dinner?

Another incident:

When I took the dogs for their early morning run in our park last week, I realized I’d forgotten to bring doggie bags to clean up after them. Michael, Mr. I-Always-Poop-In-The-Same-Place, immediately dumped a pile along the side of the parking lot.

“Crap,” I said, more in frustration than in observation. “I need a bag.”

True confession: As I said that, I consciously hoped an angel would hear me, but figured asking for a poop bag was really pushing the limit. The Christmas tree, at least, had spiritual significance for me. But a poop bag?

A minute later, I spotted something in the grass ahead of me. It was a snack-size empty Fritos bag.

“Too small,” I told Michael, as he sniffed at it. I could manage it, I supposed, if I had no other choice.

What the heck, I thought. Why not ask for a bigger bag?

“Could I get a larger one?” I whispered.

As we approached the playground at the park, there it was: a plastic grocery bag.

Empty.

“Thank you,” I said as I cleaned up Michael’s pile.

One last piece of evidence:

I ordered a book on Amazon.com, and when it came to the checkout page, I owed nothing. I’d forgotten that I had a credit on my account (from returning the ‘indestructible’ frisbee – did you read that post?). The credit was $9.74 – exactly the amount I needed for the new book, including shipping.

Mary, Images of the Virgin in Art, is now on its way to my home. At no extra cost.

A gift.

So don’t tell me there aren’t angels waiting in the wings. I know they’re there. And I’m going to make it a habit to invite them into my life. The only thing I wonder: who’s doing the entertaining?

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