I found an Angel in the trash. It wasn't yet called recycling. I had my bundle buggy and as I came around the back of the building I saw what looked like a white head peeking out of a container.
I went over and looked.
It was a plaster angel with broken hands. It had been 'released into the wild' by the church. 
I stood unbelieving at this 5 foot statue. Peeling paint, missing hands and thought...hmmmm.
I turned my buggy on it's side and gingerly slide the bottom heavy angel inside.
It bent the bottom of my buggy but I dragged it home. I figured it it didn't want to go with me that it could say so by cracking down the middle or something.
It did not.
I placed in on my floor and decided to wash and paint him/her.
When I was finished I place him/her on a plaster pedestal...which I just happened to have and wired her hands with a light fixture. It
looked pretty good.
It is now 2016 and CLARENCE and I have been together for sixteen years.
When I go by him/her I often rub it's head and mutter a prayer.
When my son died the following year I would go to Clarence and put my arms around...ah...him/her....and weep my heart out.
Clarence never complained. Never left. Was always there.
And she still is.
(Memory from last year)