Early Christianity saw the concept of angels shift from beings as messengers of God (Gabriel, Michael, Raphael and Uriel) to manifestations of God himself. Then, within little more than two centuries (from the third to the fifth), the image of angels took on definitive characteristics both in theology and in art. By the late fourth century, theologians agreed that there were different categories of angels with individual missions. Mostly, angels are represented throughout the Christian Bible as a body of spiritual beings intermediate between God and humanity.

Do these ideas hold true today? To many people, they do. To many people, they do not. And still more people believe in angels but have personal depictions of them in their minds with varying capabilities. Some imagine angels to be like "Clarence" in the timeless classic, "It's a Wonderful Life." Everytime a bell rings, an angel gets its wings. Some imagine angels like the cast of "Touched by an Angel," complete with golden glows. If you do envision an angel in what is your metaphysical world; and if it brings you comfort, joy, or in some cases a miracle . . . the angel is real, no matter how its presence surfaces.

I have an angel. I have no idea what he or she looks like, however. For that matter, I don't even know if my angel is a he or a she. Genderless, perhaps. I do not know if my angel has wings or if it glows. I do know that my angel has not - via an awe inspiring, supernatural means --  delivered my children and me from the burdens we bear . . . yet, that is. But, I do know my angel has boundless strength and endurance and has taught me the same. A physical symbol of this truth hangs above my bed.

I have stood challenged many times in my life as we all have. On one particular morning, however; I stood nearly paralyzed with fear before going to the first of several court hearings regarding a very difficult divorce. The outcome would effect my three children who were (and are) the three reasons I wake each morning. I walked begrudgingly toward my car, opened the door, and, to my surprise, there it was: My best friend had left on the seat a delicately crafted, pewter angel that would become my symbol of perserverence.  

Though I immediately treasured it, I did not know in that minute what truth this angel would behold forever. I picked it up and ran my fingers along her outsretched arms and wings. Engraved, it offered the words of Eleanor Roosevelt, "You must do the thing that you fear the most."  I exhaled, sat in my car, and turned on the ignition. As the angel beckoned, I forged on.

After I parked my car in the parking lot of the court house, I grabbed my brief case stuffed with a myriad of legal documents that I barely understood. (I did not have an attorney due to financial limitations; I represented myself, and it has been said by many that I do not represent myself well.) Also in my brief case was my angel, though after I made my entrance into the court house, I realized it had fallen out. I dashed back out to the parking lot to see it lying on the ground, and within an instant, I saw a car back out of a parking space and over my angel.

The outstretched arms and wings were no longer outstretched. One arm was bent backwards, and one wing was bent forwards. Both feet were flattened beyond recognition. I was devastated as I picked up my mangled angel to re-enter the court house. Could this be a foreshadowing of what was to come? Well, yes . . .

But, instead of my angel becoming a symbol of battles lost and hopes for my children dashed, it became a symbol of the tenacity to move forward despite the bumps and bruises my children and I had sustained over the years. Again, my angel was a symbol of boundless strength and endurance. It had a broken arm, a broken wing, and flattened feet; but, after the court hearing, it felt no less sturdy in my trembling hand than it had before.

So, a nearly dismembered angel hangs above my bed to remind me not of hurt and loss, but of the blows that we can sustain while holding on to fortitude. I still do not know what my true angel looks like . . . perhaps Rocky Balboa after a few rounds . . . But my tangible symbol quiets my fears in the night, saying not just, "You must do the things that you fear the most," but "you can do the thing that you fear the most, even if you feel depleted of strength".

By Erin Heffernan

Erin Heffernan is a photographer in Scituate. Her Wink South series, "Shutter to Think", explains how looking at life from a different angle, even if it's via the viewfinder, can offer valuable lessons (and sometimes comic relief!).