Little Catastrophes

Dear Gabriel,

It is strange how little catastrophes can help lead one to a truth. I have a little statue of an angel left to me by my mother. A child had dropped it, weeks before probably, and she was missing her hands.

I spent the afternoon on the dusty floor of the study – peering into corners – and finally found two tiny, broken off hands. Then, with difficulty, I tried to stick them back on with Super Glue. The glue stuck to my hands, which then stuck together with one of the broken hands. I botched it, but, dear Gabriel, in this job I found much pleasure. Eventually, with her hands slightly askew, and I fear upside down, the virgin was again in prayer. Try to find pleasure from little problems and the contemplation they bring.

Yours Ever,