 The ICU Assignment I was floating in front of a giant mirror that was also suspended in the air, preening. I had just had my wings done and was trying to evaluate my opinion of them. I'm the first angel ever to have two strand twists done on their wings and it was taking some getting used to. And yes, I said two strand twists. My fellow angels complained endlessly about my large wings and the devastating effects they had on my surroundings. I'm not the most graceful of angels and was continuously disrupting my environment whenever I took off, landed, walked through a room, flew over a continent...I've been personally responsible for a few tsunamis and hurricanes, which have adversely affected my yearly performance evaluations, but I came in extremely handy whenever the Highest wanted to mete out judgment on sinful nations. Some of my workmates walked past and took a double take, then doubled the double take. Soon a crowd of finger pointing, whispering, angels had gathered. I did not like being the center of attention, something I should have thought of when I decided to be the first to get my wings “twisted”. The crowd disbanded rapidly when Boss arrived, he was totally against bullying in the work place, Oh, if I could only get alone with him for a few seconds, the stories I could tell, if I were a gossip that is. Boss handed me my assignments for the day after graciously pretending to not notice my wings. Boss was the incarnation of graciousness. I guess that covers the motto "if you can't say something nice about someone don't say anything at all." Well I was still going to give it a try; it was too soon to just give it up. I flipped through the list of my day’s duties, I was assigned to the intensive care unit today, a unit designed to help mortals during arduous times, and cringed. This couldn't be right. I looked for Boss to verify what I was reading but he had already left the building with Elvis, someone had to keep an eye on Elvis constantly, he kept popping up all over the place, at gas stations and such, bamboozling people. Plus Boss was a big fan of Elvis; he would tear up real good when Elvis sang his gospel selections. I fleetingly popped into the reception rooms just inside of the pearly gates, all twelve of them, till I saw Her. Yep, it was true; as if He ever made a mistake. I thought She had been too young at forty, though I knew full well there is no such thing as too young, but there She was, just inside St Peter’s gate, mingling excitedly with her more immediate family unit, her face glowing on her new terrestrial body which was clothed in the white linen of the overcomers. This was above and beyond a fantastic day for Her but for those…OMG. I better get going! I went to the takeoff terminal and dove off. This is where I encountered a mild unexpected malfunction. I pummeled to my destination in very awkward and undignified manner, something I hadn’t thought through about a “two strand twisted” set of wings was….they don’t function. I landed at my goal, a little off course because of my faulty navigation system, disheveled and flustered. I quickly regrouped and looked around for witnesses, thank heavens no one saw me, no one except all my coworkers at the takeoff terminal which included the hole host of heaven. Their laughter was still ringing in my ears. I stood up and looked around. I could hear Her little poodle mix barking in the hallway outside Her bedroom, she wanted in real bad, then I heard the front door open accompanied by voices. Someone called out Her name and opened the bedroom door, but not wide enough as I was blocking it to give myself time to recover from my flustered dishevelment. Another voice declared, “She’s not here, she’s out with a friend.” Then the door shut again giving me time to undo my wings. I’ve had enough time to evaluate them now, and the results were a resounding thumbs down. After a few more minutes the door reopened, “I’m going to take a picture of Tabby’s room to show Mark, he’ll never believe how dirty she has gotten her new apartment in just a few short weeks!” Her mom said, right before she halted. As the door opened further than it had earlier she noticed the pile between Her bed and the wall. “Oh my gosh! Greg, is that ….” Mom couldn’t finish her sentence because she instinctively knew. Something icy ran through her blood to confirm what she didn’t want to believe and I was there, with my massive wings, to prevent her from crossing the threshold, I had also dimmed the lights because there no need to see everything. What Mom saw was her daughter’s body lying on the floor in a fetal position, where it had landed after she passed away silently and quietly on her bed, from my calculations a few days ago. A somewhat controlled pandemonium broke loose as Mom registered the impact of her discovery, her baby girl was gone! Mom immediately, with minimum albeit definite hysterics, called 911 knowing that She was past the scope of human intervention. Since heaven finally caught up with the digital age I pulled out my communication system to start getting reinforcements just as Mom called her place of employment, then posted on Facebook her awful discovery. Facebook: that wonderfully human mode of mass communication, if properly used it helps us with our work, making it possible to spend our resources directly on the bereaved. It wasn’t long before helpers arrived, visible and invisible, Mom’s best friend from work and heavily armed hosts of heaven’s Calvary to fight off the vultures from…that hot place…that enjoy attacking humans at their weakest. We let mom cry (as though we could stop her), wail and continuously hug her son, Greg who was in shock. Greg had been in Her apartment sleeping on the couch with the impression She had gone out with a friend for the weekend, yet she had passed away quietly on her bed and rolled onto the floor just feet from him behind a closed door. He was going to need a few members from my unit to stay with him for an undetermined time. I motioned several winged care givers over to him with my wings. Mom and son eventually made it home, after She had been removed and sent to the medical examiners for identification. Many friends, who had been receptive to whispered instructions from their guardian angels, arrived in shifts to offer help and bring food. Mom was so heartbroken her head started to hurt from weeping so much so she had to retreat to her sanctuary to recuperate; she was convinced she’d never be the same again. She lay down on her bed where she nestled unknowingly into my soft wings. All she could think of was her baby dying alone, all alone, so very alone. She kept pleading for a sign that that hadn’t been the case. I managed to soothe her into a temporary oblivion by engulfing her in my colossal wings that had been powdered with sleeping dust as I also shielded her from the adversary’s strikes. It never ceased to be satisfying to watch him and his pathetic cohorts slither away sputtering out impotent curses at me. Ignoring him has always been the best tactic, being ignored infuriates him. I had my job cut out for me, reassurance, comfort, healing. I went back to the apartment before Mom the next day; I had to make sure everything was in place. She hadn’t been in the apartment long and had not unpacked much, so I had to make sure Mom found her answers easily and in a timely manner. Mom started grabbing unpacked boxes and carrying them out to her car. She didn’t even look at the contents; it was too emotionally hard for her now. Oops, I caused her to trip over my left wing and stumble on to Her bed, I’m such a klultz. Mom spotted it almost immediately, one of Her bibles, there on the bed by Her pillow, on the bed she passed away on. Mom scanned through it, OMG all the notes and pictures She had filled the pages with. Mom sighed with relief, wow; She really had read Her bible after she grew up. Mom found several other well used bibles after that scattered about the apartment, well used with many passages highlighted and chocked-full of inspirational notes. Mom clasped the bibles to her chest to absorb comfort from her findings. Mom was ready to call it quits for the day but I wasn’t, there was more….a little whisper in the ear and …mom went back to the bedroom. I flipped my right wing under her chin to tilt it up and ….there, she spotted them. On the shelf in the closet were several spiral index card binders filled with …OMG, biblical art work and bible verses, what a gift! Seven books filled with Her art work and bible stories, more evidence of her relationship with Him. Mom couldn’t have asked for more but I had one more surprise in store for her. Come on, this gets to be gratifying, helping people through grief, what more rewarding job can an angel have? I can be pretty creative if I do say so myself. Good Friday was coming up. How in the world did the day Jesus die come to be known as Good Friday? I remember that day well, the sun stopped shining for hours while he hung on a cross, tired, thirsty, in extreme pain, carrying the sins of all mankind. The Highest Himself hid his face from us during the appalling day that His son suffered from the iniquities of an alienated humanity. Good Friday? Really. I must admit some denominations get close to the meaning of what we like to refer to as Holy Friday by observing three hours of silence and fasting in the afternoon. Well I digresses somewhat, as is my habit, as is also pointed out to me at eval time, so back to the point….On “Good Friday”, two days before Easter and twenty three days after She entered the pearly gates, Mom flipped through one of Her bibles, well she picked it up but I made sure what page it opened on, Acts 9:36-43. Mom’s eyes went right to the top of the page where She had written, “Tabitha raised from the dead by Peter”. Mom couldn’t deny the message. Her daughter, Tabby was named after this biblical Tabitha! And here it was in Tabitha’s own handwriting, She was raised from the dead by Peter. Peter had escorted her to heaven, no mistake about it and with a few sightings of Owls I had given Mom at the appropriate time, when she selected the guest book and thank you cards, I had her convinced, rightfully convinced, that Peter and her own mother (whose memory was evoked by Owl sightings) had escorted Tabby to the kingdom. She had not died alone. “For though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me” are not just pretty words; they were inspired by Himself to give consolation to suffering believers through many generations. Well, my job here is done so I headed back to the office, if you can call a space with wispy, transparent, movable walls an office, to wind up the progress notes. A Tabitha so radiant she would have been unrecognizable to her mortal family, was there waiting for me, eager to hear about the family she left behind and how they were coping. I assured her she could ask one of them herself because Mom and her escorts were just arriving at gate nine; don’t be alarmed, numerous decades have expired down on earth already. After Tabitha joyfully left my office to welcome her mother, I saw it. Oh very funny. While I was busy my unassigned colleagues must have had way too much free time. In the corner of my office was a life size cardboard replica of me smothered with hundreds of signatures; me just after takeoff with a startled expression on my face as I plunged to earth with my faulty wings tied behind my back. I must admit, it was worth a giggle, and then another, then I had difficulty suppressing my laughter, didn’t want to spoil everyone’s good natured fun by being amused at myself. Boss passed by just as I was trying to shove the image of me into my filing cabinet. He paused long enough to give me the “one raised eyebrow” look and continue on. Does anything ever get past him? Somewhere in the background I heard Elvis singing “How Great Thou Art,” and I pictured a small tear slide down Boss’s cheek. |
