stands an angel with lopsided wings.
He fidgets and wiggles.
He scratches his nose.
He rolls up his eyes,
taps the beat with his toes.
Then he sings.
He sings.
He Sings.
Though his halo has slipped and his wings are askew,
this freckle faced boy sings with joy that’s brand new.
He sings, Yes, he sings.
Then in come the shepherds, the cattle and sheep.
The innkeeper is there with a voice low and deep.
Soon the light shines on Mary holding her child.
And the golden haired angel stands so still. He’s beguiled.
The congregation is quiet - It is dark and serene -
as they watch once again, that dear Christmas scene.
Then out of the darkness, in a voice sweet and clear,
filled with tender devotion and love, they would hear
the Angel with lopsided wings - as he sings.
“Away in the manger no crib for his bed,
the little Lord Jesus lay down his sweet head.
The stars in the sky look down where He lay,
the little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay.”
The leader is startled. She raises her hand. This solo was never a part of her plan.
Then she stops in midair and with tears in her eyes
she listens, and watches the angel, and sighs.
Then again it is silent, our heads bowed in reverence,
‘cause this song came from deep in the heart of the child.
It spoke love with abandon. It was honest and real.
It was worship,
fresh,
pure,
undefiled.
May we always remember God’s story.
May we always remember to sing.
May we love with the angel’s abandon - the angel with lopsided wings.
© Diane Gruchow 2010
