It’s Not Your Angel

Lisa Thomas • January 8, 2020

I’m constantly scanning Pinterest, searching for interesting monuments or unusual methods of transportation for the deceased (aka hearses), or perhaps inspirational quotes or those that attempt to put grief into words.  Not long ago I found one that falls into that last category; one that spoke so strongly to me I knew I had to do more than simply post it on our Facebook page.  And yet, at the same time, I knew I would probably embarrass a few folks for no other reason than because, at some point, they have spoken these words.  Please believe me, that is not my intent.

The observation came from Angela Miller, an author and speaker on all things grief related.  Her son Noah died tragically at the age of two, an event that led her to utter the following words:

“Easy for you to say ‘God needed another angel’ since God didn’t ask you for yours.”

When I first read this it took my breath away because I know sometimes we speak without fully understanding the depth of meaning held in our words.  She’s right, it’s easy to say God needed another angel . . . if you’re a believer it paints a beautiful picture of what has transpired and where and with whom your child is . . . something that should serve as a source of comfort and strength . . . as long as we aren’t the one who is suffering.  We aren’t the one of whom God required the sacrifice.

Before I continue, let me assure you I am aware this isn’t how angels work.  First of all, Biblically speaking, angels don’t come into existence each time someone dies.  Second, God doesn’t need anything from us, most certainly not our children. I think most of us realize these things but we use the term angel to lovingly refer to the one who has died, especially when it’s a child.

But have you ever thought that angels come in different shapes and sizes and ages?  In all probability, everyone who dies is someone’s “angel” and to look at the person who is grieving and tell them God needed their loved one more than they did is a slap to God and of no comfort to the bereaved.

Remember my question about different shapes and sizes and ages?  What about the police officer that dies in the line of duty?  Should we rightfully say he or she knew that could happen when they chose that profession?  How would we feel if it was our husband or wife or child that died in that manner and someone looked at us and spoke those very words?

And now, with the turmoil in our world . . . what about our servicemen and women . . . especially those who have been recently deployed?  Let me state right now—and pay very close attention to my words—I am neither condoning nor condemning the events currently underway which involve our military.  But those events have sent many of their number overseas onto foreign soil—and left behind their spouses and children and parents and siblings.  And should that person die during any conflict, knowing they died defending their country will not make up for the devastating loss to their family.  To tell them they should be proud of the sacrifice demanded of them shows little respect for the pain they are enduring.

“God needed another angel”.  The next time you’re tempted to use that phrase regarding anyone who has died, please think again.  If it was your angel, could you so easily utter those words?

 

About the author:  Lisa Shackelford Thomas is a fourth generation member of a family that’s been in funeral service since 1926.  She has been employed at Shackelford Funeral Directors in Savannah, Tennessee for over 40 years and currently serves as the manager there.  Any opinions expressed here are hers and hers alone, and may or may not reflect the opinions of other Shackelford family members or staff.

 

 

By Lisa Thomas October 30, 2025
Monday night I just happened to catch the last episode of this season’s “Halloween Baking Championship”—you know, the one where they have the final four bakers and one of them wins $25,000 and a feature in Food Network Magazine while everyone else goes home empty-handed?
By Lisa Thomas October 22, 2025
Years ago, a well-known celebrity lost a child when she was five months pregnant. She and her husband shared pictures of themselves holding their baby, obviously and understandably grieving their loss—and numerous people found fault with that.
By Lisa Thomas October 15, 2025
In their later years, both of my parents suffered from dementia, my father thanks to Diffuse Lewy Body Disease and my mother compliments of vascular disease which led to portions of her brain slowly dying. Two very different causes, but the same end result.
By Lisa Thomas October 8, 2025
Every December my daughter and I (and our special guest baker Tommy) gather for three very long days (plus usually one for gathering supplies) and we bake. And we bake and we bake and we bake.
By Lisa Thomas October 2, 2025
We’ve all heard the old saying “You can’t take it with you”, right? And we all know why old sayings get to be old sayings, right? (In case you don’t, it’s because there’s a grain of truth hidden in them . . .)
By Lisa Thomas September 24, 2025
It’s raining. A rare occurrence of late. And a welcome one. It’s done that off and on for the last few days, and you know what? The grass that once crunched under my feet is now soft and green again. And in need of mowing.
By Lisa Thomas September 17, 2025
It’s Fair Week in Hardin County, Tennessee! Just like it is or has been or will be in the near future for many counties around the south. And maybe the north. I’m just not sure how many of our southern traditions they embrace.
By Lisa Thomas September 11, 2025
The name they had chosen was filled with meaning, a combination of his father’s—Jon—and her father’s—Michael. Even before they knew what he was, they knew who he was.
By Lisa Thomas September 3, 2025
It was sometime in the 1960s or perhaps even the early 1970s. We could possibly even narrow it down a bit more than that . . . let’s say the mid-60s to early 70s. There had been a murder . . .
By Lisa Thomas August 27, 2025
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”