A Wish and a Prayer

I’m open to the idea of angels. In a moment of crisis, when it seems there's no way out of a tough situation, an angel might deliver grace. Is it an electromagnetic force that makes our wobbly feet steady? Is it grace from the universe--photons aligning to cast a beam of light along a darkened path?

A few days ago, a freshman asked me if I'd sign up for Pi Day, a fundraiser in which students pay to throw a pie in someone's face. In a moment of generosity, I said yes to a slot during third lunch.

First lunch, I scoped it out with some journalists who were in class with me at the time. Let's just say it was not good. I didn't know a lot of the kids. Volunteers in flimsy plastic ponchos were getting drenched by a shower of Kool Whip, milky rivers flowing down their necks, hair made thick with foam.

I know myself. This scene was not for me.

Back at my desk with a few reporters on the same page, we agreed that I should back out. But how?

Next, a Pi Day organizer politely knocked on my door. 

"I'm so sorry," she said. "We've run out of dairy-free whipped cream, so we've taken you off the schedule." She had the expression of someone who thought they were failing at their customer service position.

"Oh, gosh," I said, "I understand,” even though I didn’t know what dairy-free had to do with anything; I wasn't about to argue. "Would you like a lollipop?" I asked, full of gratitude, trying to keep it light.

She left with her clipboard and a sense of purpose. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank you, angels. Thank you so very much.