My father was losing his battle to colon cancer; we all said our goodbyes, cried countless tears, and took turns sitting by his side. As we rolled into the second week of watching my strong, stubborn dad hold on, the hospice team suggested that maybe he needed some time alone. Perhaps he needed some peace and quiet to move on from this life.

With this suggestion made, my sisters, Mom, and I divided our attention and attempted to give him some space. Mom went to the back room to wrap gifts (because, of course, it was the week before Christmas), one sister went to the office to get some work done, my other sister tried to take a nap in the guest room, and I headed home to check on Hubby and the kids.

After a couple of hours, I verified that my house was still standing and my family was doing okay, so I headed back to Mom and Dad’s. When I arrived at the front door, there was a bird just sitting there like a tiny, feathered, slightly-dazed sentry.

The bird didn’t move as I approached, but I could tell it was still alive. After passing the bird’s glassy-eyed station, I stepped inside and announced its stupified presence on the stoop.

My sister, who had returned to Dad’s bedside, replied, “Yeah, we thought it was Dad’s angel coming to get him, but it couldn’t get through the door.”

Now this may seem like a sacrilegious statement, but I think we were all so exhausted and brokenhearted that it was the kindest and funniest reasoning we all could have devised for that poor bird and our situation.

My sister had just propped the front door open (lest Dad’s spirit need a ready exit) when the bird flew into the glass. The unexpected crash scared some of the life out of Mom and my sisters.

For the remainder of the day, we watched for gentler signs of Dad’s angel and prayed that peace come to us all in a less startling form, but it got me thinking… What happens when your guardian angel can’t quite make it in the door?

The image of that little bird kept popping back in my mind.

I don’t think that the devil can throw enough doors in the way for any of our angels to completely call it quits on us. Some of the crashes and barriers might slow them down, but in those times, our angels remain steadfast. Like that little bird guarding Dad’s door, they don’t leave their post. The angels know that in times of coping and healing, it’s not up to them what happens to us. We need those moments to grow, believe, learn, hurt, or cry. Our guardian angels aren’t always supposed to enter triumphantly. Sometimes, they aren’t supposed to make it through the door. Those closed doors to the angels are our free will at work and the only way for us to grow, even if it hurts.

When it feels like your guardian angel can’t quite make it through the door, maybe they weren’t meant to step into your life at that time. Maybe that is a moment similar to the one we experienced, where the closed door was a chance to find something funny in a really sad time (Yes, we laughed at that poor bird).

Maybe your angel smacking against the glass is the sound you need hear to snap out of whatever funk you are in. Or just maybe it is the call to open a new door, welcoming in a new season, or letting out an old ache.

Like that frazzled bird, I could see the glass door of my father’s death coming, but I couldn’t protect my heart from the crash I felt when it hit. Similarly, our guardian angels can’t always come through to stop us from being hurt.

The Intentergy challenge here is to find thankfulness for all the times when those watching over us were able to cushion the blows and gratitude for the strength we have developed from bouncing back from the hard times. It’s tough to find energy and even tougher to establish positive purpose when our hearts are broken. I guess that’s why we have those guardian angels to support us and keep the spiritual Windex ready for when we fly into the windows of whatever comes next.

By: Melanie A. Peters

P.S. The little bird eventually flew away, and Dad joined his guardian angel in heaven two days later.