“An Angel in Orange Boots,” For the Strength of Youth, Dec. 2021.
An Angel in Orange Boots
What could an angel in ugly boots offer to the Lord?
Illustration by Dean MacAdam
I’m one of those people who like winter. But I don’t like actually feeling cold.
It was just my luck that my stake put together a reenactment of the birth of the Savior. Outside. At night. During the coldest Christmas in years. In Canada. I played the part of an angel in this Nativity story, so at least my puffy robe could hide my snow pants, mittens, and scarves.
But nothing, not even the puffy robe, could keep my feet warm. My mom took me shopping for thicker boots, and we bought the warmest-looking pair of shoes we could find: a pair of orange boots with red laces. These boots looked like they would survive an Antarctic expedition—and in this record-breaking winter, I needed that. But I felt like the most ridiculous 17-year-old Nativity angel ever. What kind of heavenly messenger wears orange boots?
An Embarrassed Angel
The night of our final dress rehearsal, I walked out onstage trying to pull my robe down to cover my boots. No matter what I did, they still stuck out of my puffy angel costume.
Luckily, the other angels and I stood half-hidden behind a backdrop for most of the pageant, which meant nobody could see my shoes.
But there was a part at the end when all the characters in the Nativity story—shepherds, Roman soldiers, Wise Men, townspeople, and angels—came in from every side of the outdoor theater to kneel before the Savior.
This part of the pageant was supposed to be a peaceful moment for the audience and cast members to reflect on the Savior’s birth. But for the first two nights, I dreaded it. All I could think about was how I’d have to kneel right in front of the crowd, and they would be able to see my ugly, bright-orange boots. In that moment, being an angel felt more embarrassing than holy.
The Prince of Peace
On the third night, I was waiting backstage with all the other angels, and I suddenly felt excited to share this final Nativity scene with the audience. I mean, this was it—the audience was going to see angels come in from all sides to kneel in front of the infant Savior. How incredible is that?
I forgot all about my boots as the narrator recited Isaiah 9:6, which was my cue: “For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.”
As I walked out, everything else fell away. I felt like one of the heavenly angels—those powerful, glorified beings who were present at Christ’s birth.
The other angels and I knelt beside soldiers and put comforting hands on shepherds’ shoulders. We all showed our humility, reverence, and love for this tiny newborn baby. And I felt it—the infinite love that my Savior had for the townspeople, the tax collectors, and me. I knew this Child—and the redemption He brought—was the most important gift the earth had ever received.
Testifying of Christ
When I walked out on stage during the next performances, I didn’t feel like just a girl in a puffy costume and orange boots. I was a part of the “ministering of angels” that testifies of the Savior (Moroni 7:25), even in my own small way. I didn’t care anymore if the audience could see my shoes—because if my orange boots were showing, it meant I was kneeling in front of my Savior.