As is true in reality, the world is filled with and made up of layers. As we grow we see how our physical and spiritual selves have breached the borders between worlds and as we enter our new realms of existence we are like children emerging from the womb; surrounded by pain and anguish, as well as joy and salvation. There are symbols everywhere. It is these symbols that give meaning to life and it is through the understanding and the constant search for understanding that we live.
An angel, with black skin and wings of gold, falls from the heavens passing through the clouds as a stone would fall to the earth. She is lost. Her golden wings are of no use for she has not yet learned to fly with the others. Not to say that she cannot, but if she were to embrace the grace and love that has created the worlds that she is now burying herself ever-deeper into through every anxious moment as she falls, she would rise and soar with her father. It is out of love and grace that our father, who art in heaven, pursues her through to our world, stretching out his right hand to save that which is lost. Marked with the symbols of fearlessness and bravery, it is not concerned with any pitfall that would seek to harm it, rather it is there to save; whilst the left extends to the brink of the boundary, marked with the eyes of the king, seeing all, knowing all, and loving all. All of this goes on while the sun shines down with the ladder of death, reminding us that we all shall return home one day.
(Dedicated to my loving, gracious, and ever-striving mother, Phyllis L. Johnson)