I don’t really know where to begin except to say that Angela was one of those rare saints that you find once in a lifetime. She was always concerned about others more than herself and would go out of her way to let you know she cared for you and would do anything you needed to help you feel better or be happy.
I’m a pretty hardened person sometimes and I had a hard time accepting the love and attention that Angela would show me, but in the back of my mind I admired her for her giving spirit. She was always thinking of ways to give to the missionaries, sending money to them and trying to help them in whatever way she could.
Her burden was to go to the Mideast as a missionary. That was her passion and her life’s goal and dream, so much so that she even got Arabic books and would study them, attempting to have a head start on her dream by getting the language down in order that she might communicate better with the people of that land.
Angela was a saint. She was like a Mother Theresa—small in body and frail in the physical, but full of love and compassion, full of life and spunk. When I think of her, I see her in my mind’s eye, smiling, asking me how I’m doing, how my cold is doing, always having time to stop and talk about something interesting and cool.
May we all strive to have that same kind of love.