The Angel Who Loved Bubblegum

Once upon a twinkle, not so far from here and not quite far from heaven, there was a very small angel named Lila Grace. She was only three and a half years old, with curls that bounced like dandelion fluff and a giggle that made the stars lean in to listen.

Lila Grace had just arrived in heaven, and while everyone there was kind and sparkly and full of songs, she missed her kitty cat, Whiskers, and her swing set back home, the one with the squeaky chain and the view of the big oak tree. Most of all, she missed her mommy and daddy. She didn’t like how their hearts felt heavy. She could feel it, even from heaven.

But there was one thing that always made Lila Grace feel better.

Bubblegum.

Not just any bubblegum. The pink kind. The kind that smelled like strawberries and whipped cream and made the biggest, loudest, most glorious POP! when you blew it just right.

In heaven, Lila Grace chewed bubblegum all the time. She popped bubbles during choir practice. She popped bubbles while cloud-skating. She even popped bubbles during angel story hour, which made the older angels sigh and smile at the same time.

“Lila Grace,” said one of the archangels, “you are the only angel who’s ever made heaven smell like a candy shop.”

She beamed. “It smells like happiness.”

But as Christmas drew near, Lila Grace grew quiet. It would be her family’s first Christmas without her. She imagined the stockings hung without her tiny one. She imagined the swing set sitting still. She imagined her parents trying to smile, but their eyes not quite sparkling.

So she did what any brave little angel would do.

She marched across the cloud meadow with her curls bouncing, her cheeks puffed, and her feet stomping poutingly in a manner which said, “I have something important to do, and I’m doing it, even if I’m little.” She clutched her bubblegum tight in one hand, her tiny shoulders squared off with determination.

Jesus was sitting under a tree that grew stars instead of apples, humming a lullaby to a baby lamb nestled in His arms.

When Lila Grace reached Him, her boldness began to melt. Her toes curled inward. Her shoulders dipped. And then very gently she reached out and tugged on His robe.

Jesus smiled and set the lamb down beside Him. It nestled into the grass with a sleepy sigh.

Then He leaned forward, close enough to hear the tiniest whisper.

Lila Grace took a breath, her voice barely a breeze. “Excuse me…”

“I’m listening,” He said, His eyes full of warmth.

“I want my mommy and daddy to know I’m okay. I want them to smile again. Could I… maybe… leave them a gift? Just something small. Something pink. Something poppy.”

Jesus smiled. “Bubblegum?”

She nodded shyly. “Two pieces. One for each of them. The kind I always picked at the store.”

He thought for a moment, then whispered something to the wind. The wind giggled and carried the message down to earth.

That Christmas morning, Lila Grace’s parents found two pieces of pink bubblegum on the kitchen table. No wrapper. Just the gum. Sitting there like a secret.

They stared at it. Then at each other.

“She always left her gum everywhere,” her daddy whispered, laughing through tears.

Her mommy picked one up and held it to her heart. “It smells like her.”

And then…just as the morning light touched the windows…they heard it.

POP!

Soft. Distant. Impossible.

But real.

They froze. Tears welled. And in that moment, they knew.

She was okay.

Back in heaven, Lila Grace was swinging on a cloud swing, blowing the biggest bubble heaven had ever seen.

And nestled beside her, whether in memory, in mystery, or in miracle was Whiskers, curled up just the way he used to be. She could still feel the way he’d nuzzle close on chilly mornings, his purr rumbling like a lullaby, his soft fur warming her side. That feeling stayed with her, not as a wish or a dream, but as something deeper, a presence stitched into her forever.

POP!

The angels groaned. The stars twinkled.

And Jesus laughed. It was that had a laugh with a twinkle in His eyes and a smile that knew exactly what love can do.

Because sometimes, the smallest angels leave the biggest love behind.

A Note of Gratitude: This little story was inspired by a story I read many years ago while baby sitting at my local church. I must have been around 15 years old. My younger sister and I would gather the children around us to read to them while their parents went to church. The chairs were always too small.

Anyway, one Sunday, I stumbled upon The Littlest Angel by Charles Tazewell nestled within the library’s shelves. It appeared to be a delightful story that children would cherish, so I gathered them around and read it aloud. The experience brings back such warm and tender memories, and its sweetness lingered in my heart.

The tale of a small angel whose humble gift becomes the most cherished of all has gently influenced my thoughts on love, memory, and the enchanting miracles of Christmas. If you feel inspired to explore it yourself, you can find it here:

📚 Read via Open Library – borrow digitally with a free account

🛍️ Purchase on Amazon – available in multiple formats

I just learned there was a song created for this story. Enjoy the song by the McGuire Sisters. Here is what Wikipedia says about the story.