an angel in paris

Hotel de Ville in Paris, France

During my recent trip to Paris, I meandered through the Marais in search of a meal. I found the perfect cafe, positioned myself on the perimeter, and prepared myself for an afternoon of French delights and people-watching.

A few spoonfuls into my watercress soup, a man started shouting. My eyes followed the noise and I saw an angry man shouting at a woman just inches away from him. I did not understand what he was saying but the tone told me everything I needed to know. The one-way argument overpowered the faint cafe sounds of clinking dishes and the French conversation of the patrons.

In those angry moments, I didn’t know what to do. I knew I did not feel safe as a woman approaching a tall, angry man speaking a language I didn’t fully understand. I prayed for the woman to step away and for a peaceful ending to the situation.

Seconds later, another man of equal stature briskly walked up to the angry man and gave him a heartfelt hug. His three-second embrace invited silence into the angry spaces. As I locked eyes with the mysterious man, he nodded his head and exited the scene as quickly as he had entered it.

I lingered in my people-watching seat to soak up what just transpired. The fleeting presence of this mysterious man, the angel in Paris, shifted the narrative for all of us—the angry man, the hurt woman, myself and the others at the cafe. Our individual moments became a collective one, as we bore witness to one man’s anger.

The mysterious man’s presence reminded me I can hold space in my heart for peace. I don’t have to know how it will take shape; however, I do need to ask for it and believe it is possible.