On today’s opinion page, you’ll find a story about angels. Unlikely angels. Angels that are easy to see, yet all too easy to miss. You may have encountered one of them yourself this holiday season without even realizing it, because more often than not, these angels don’t look the part.

They have no wings, these angels — at least none that show. Their halos, if they have them, originate from a sliver of the spectrum not easily discerned by the mortal eye. Their arrival is not marked by the herald of trumpets, nor their departure by a flash of light.

They don’t always act angelic, either. They do much of their work in the cold, thin atmosphere of need and stress, of fear and pain, of loss and loneliness. To survive such a brutal environment, they may wrap themselves in a thick coat of toughness or gruffness. They may contend that what they’re doing is just a job, and that they are no more angels than you and I.

They are flesh and blood, these angels. They laugh, they cry, they hurt and, eventually, they die. But they are angels nonetheless, because of what they do. They are dispensers of love and hope. Of comfort and joy.

Whether they realize it or not, they are real, these angels, as real as a Band-Aid on a blister. They are angels in work clothes. Everyday angels. They are the angels among us.

A harried fellow that we met the other day is a good example. He would be the last one to consider himself an angel. He would say that he’s merely doing what he has to do, and that he wishes there were someone to share the load. But there isn’t.

He is an only child and an only grandchild. His mother is recovering from cancer, he just moved his grandparents into a nursing home and his wife has a debilitating disease.

He spends 70 hours a week working at his job and every other wakeful hour taking care of his family. He speaks the jargon of the caregiver fluently and he knows more about elder law than some attorneys.

This fellow is without question a mortal and he’d be the first to tell you he’d appreciate an angel of the heavenly variety dropping down to share the load. He would deny his angelship until he’s blue in the face, but there are two grandparents, a mother and a wife who would testify on a Bible that he’s an angel.

This fellow and the ones who follow are only a few examples. There are countless others in our community and our world, and we rarely stop to celebrate the blessing that they are. On this holy morning, we’d like to remedy that by giving thanks for the angels among us. We hope you will join us in doing so.

Merry Christmas.

— Donnis Baggett, publisher