Almost twenty years ago, while still recovering from breast cancer, I brought home a beautiful angel. Her face and lovely clothing were illuminated by a single light that has never yet burned out. She carries it in her hand. Like a live doll, she stands thirty-two inches high and keeps constant watch throughout the night, if I don't remember to switch her off.
Initially, I thought the light was moving. It was only after placing her in our front window that I noticed: the light wasn't moving at all. The angel was--her body slowly gliding while supporting her two large wings and halo. Just watching her each evening brought me to a place of inexplicable peace! The effect is still the same today, though she has stood in the front window of three houses now.
Last year, as I carefully pulled her from the packing where she had lain during the move to Kansas, my heart skipped a beat. Half her halo was missing! How could we possibly display an angel with a broken halo? Then again, I wondered, how could we not? Our grandchildren have never known a Christmas without her! Besides, she was still perfect in every other way.
In fact, perhaps more perfect because of what she now illustrates to us all, as if the neighbors even notice what's missing. We all have broken halos; but as long as the Light keeps shining in spite of our brokenness, it doesn't matter at all!