I have a friend who had a 'near death experience' a few years ago. As her body hovered on the brink with doctors and nurses desperately working to save her, her spirit traveled 'through the light' and spent those dramatic minutes talking calmly with an angel. She found it profoundly hopeful...

Another friend who lives and works on the east coast, 'channels' an angel while in a deeply meditative state. People come from all over to ask this angel questions about their lives and futures. They say they leave feeling more hopeful and peaceful. My friend the channel has no memory of these conversations but reawakens each time feeling the same calm and joy the more conscious participants have described.

And angels are certainly a media event, starring in their own TV shows and inspiring enough books to daunt even the most avid angelophile.

Well, I want to see an angel, too! And I don't want to have to die or go into trance to see them. I don't want to experience the bliss of angelic presence only to have this being disappear as I wake up. I'd very much like to sit comfortably in my living room and have a nice chat. I'd like to ask my own questions about the meaning of life and what I can expect in the hereafter!

Or maybe we have it all wrong. Maybe angels are around us all the time and we simply don't recognize them in their 'street clothes'.

For example: Several years ago, when my sons and I first began vacationing in Lower Northwestern Michigan, we awoke to a beautiful, sunny day. The three of us took our breakfast out to the picnic table and watched loons glide across the glass-still lake while we discussed what we would like to do that day. It was far too beautiful to stay indoors and even too beautiful to be a tourist and end up in a crowd somewhere. By unanimous vote we chose to pack a picnic lunch and walk the Old Indian Trail to the beach on Lake Michigan.

The trail winds through woods thick with trees and wildlife. Here it's easy to imagine Little Red Riding Hood skipping the same stretch with her basket of goodies swinging in her hand. The boys and I had developed the habit of talking about their futures and dreams as we walked this trail and this day was no exception. We all enjoyed the process.

The beach, when we finally trudged across the dunes and to the water, was pleasantly hot with a light breeze and ocean-like waves that promised a fun day. We emptied our backpacks onto beach towels and set up our space, then raced into the surf. The cold, clear water took our breath away but we soon adjusted. The play lasted quite a while before we gave into our growling stomachs.

As we sat on our towels and ate cold chicken and chips I reveled in the solitude of this stretch of sand. In all the years I have picnicked there or walked along the shoreline, I have seldom seen more than a handful of people. Having grown up sunning on crowded east coast beaches this is bliss!

On this particular day I thought we would be the only ones again, but as we ate I noticed two solitary forms walking slowly along the shoreline. They each carried something large; when I first saw them I couldn't see what. As they came closer I could see that they bent often and picked something up off the sand. I assumed they were beach combing for treasures washed ashore. As they came within clear view, I could see otherwise.

The two people, a man and a woman, were picking up litter. The large things they were carrying were big, green litter bags.

As the couple approached they looked our way and their faces lit up with ready smiles. This in itself was an unusual occurrence for us. Where we lived at the time few strangers would greet each other with a smile or even eye contact. Such contact was considered dangerous. Needless to say we were (and still are) captivated by this open friendliness and we smiled back. That was all the invitation they needed to share with us their heavenly project.

As they told it, the couple walked an eleven mile stretch of beach once each month to clean the litter. They said they felt it was a small way they could pay Michigan back for all the happiness they had enjoyed in this beautiful state. No one asked them to do it. No one paid them to do it. No one gave them an award for selfless works and no one helped them carry their bulging trash bags.

Maybe, just maybe, they were angels.

Or maybe they were simply a selfless, older couple with a good attitude. It probably doesn't matter a lot which is the truth. It probably only matters that three people were taught a wonderful lesson in responsibility and action. Now when my sons or I walk a beach, any beach, we pick up the trash as we go. The same with the beautiful (though regretfully, often littered) trails through the woods and fields - we bend and pick it up. And my sons have taught their families and friends to do the same while I try to inspire my circle as well.

Lots of good has come from those two 'angels' who came and went, never to be seen or heard from again. Maybe I have received my wish after all. Maybe we were visited that day by the Angels of Litter!