My Valentine’s celebration with Freya made me curious about my old charges. And since Freya is trying a new experiment that requires my absence—she is trying to sense the other angels who guard her, which is more difficult when I am nearby—I had some time these past few days, so I’ve gone to look them up.
I’m encouraged by how many of them are thriving. I know that I only set them on these paths, but it is still a joy to me to see their happiness and remember that I had a hand in making it real.
One of them, however, was not doing as well as the others. Mary, who is midway through her freshman year in college, is struggling. She is attending a community college not far from home, while the rest of her friends are out of state, and while she talks to them nearly every day, it’s not quite the same. School has been online for her for the most part, and she feels that the walls of her room are closing in. Every day is the same for her, and it seems more and more bleak to her.
Today, I was visiting with her, watching her fighting with an English paper. She would write a few words, stop and rub her eyes, write a few more, then erase them and reword the sentence. Through it all her frustration and stress were building. She felt that everything that was happening in the world, and the life that she wanted for herself, is all crashing down on her head.
In the end she gave up on the paper and went to the website to see if she could help anyone there. It was the middle of the day, though, and there had been no activity in the chats. Mary sighed and leaned back in her chair. She was thinking that it was probably for the best—she didn’t feel that she had any helpful advice for anyone just then.
“You don’t have to have all the answers, you know,” I murmured to her.
I really intended only to comfort her, but something else happened. Perhaps because I have become so accustomed to throwing my words into a computer, another window appeared in the chat screen. At the top, where the username usually appeared, it only said “Ace”, and the message read, You don’t have to have all the answers.
Mary blinked at the chat screen. Frowning, she leaned forward and typed back, What?
I was just as puzzled as she was, but after all, if it worked with Freya… I looked at the screen again, and another message from “Ace” appeared.
I know how hard you work, and I know that you struggle to help. Don’t blame yourself if you don’t have all the answers—you’re doing fine.
Mary was bewildered. Who is this?
Just a friend.
She was trying to remember if she’d ever seen the username before. It was such a simple one that she thought she would remember if she had. How are you reading my mind? She added a laughing face, but her thoughts were confused and a little worried, not amused. I thought carefully before I answered.
I just thought you’d need to hear it. Doesn’t everyone right now?
That calmed her a little. She answered more easily, I guess that’s true. Well, thanks.
And that might have been that, but I wasn’t ready to let go of this connection, having discovered it.
Listen, you work so hard to help other people. I want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself too.
Immediately tears jumped into her eyes. I put my wing around her shoulders, and she sniffed as she typed.
Everything is so hard right now. This is not how college was supposed to go.
It’s a crazy world. But there is still goodness and love out there. A lot of it has come from you.
But that’s my point, she argued, her fingers hammering harder now. I put all this love and light shit into the world and I get nothing back. It’s like I’m pouring everything I’ve got into a black hole. I’ll never be able to fill it.
I thought about that for a while. She isn’t wrong—the depth of human suffering and struggle is beyond understanding for humans and angels alike. But then I remembered a quote that Freya has taped to her computer in her office.
“Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.”
Mary read the quote twice, then grabbed a piece of paper and wrote it down. When she had finished, she typed with shaky fingers, Where’s that from?
It was paraphrased from the Talmud by Rabbi Rami Shapiro, I believe. But it’s true. And here is something else you can think of. How many people do you think you’ve helped on this site?
Mary thought for a minute. The site had been running for almost four years now, and she knew for a fact that it had made a difference in a lot of lives.
I didn’t wait for her to answer, leaning over her and wrapping her tightly in my wings.
Now don’t you think that most of those people, if not all of them, might be inclined to do something good for someone else? And then each of those people they helped will want to share that goodness even further.
She was beginning to smile.
Even assuming that your goodness stopped with helping one person, that act would still have ripples throughout the world. You are not alone in the struggle. And you are making a difference.
It was quite a while before she could reply. When she did, all she said was, Who are you? Do I know you?
Maybe. Maybe I’m just someone who wants to be a friend to the people who do good in the world. Maybe I’m an angel.
I felt safe saying that, because I knew she would take it as a joke. And she laughed, but there was a part of her that believed it, too.
Well, thanks, Ace, she said. You’ve made me feel a lot better.
Then I accomplished my goal.
She made me feel better, too. It’s good to know that I can still help people other than Freya—that I’m not completely consumed by hunting darkness. I can also spread light still, and that is a relief and a joy.