the envelope

Come on already, there has to be a parking place up front, I thought as I cruised through the parking lot for the fifth time. Sure there were lots of spaces farther away from the building but that was too far to walk in this heat, apparently I’d rather burn gas driving in circles that suffer a little old fashion heat exhaustion. Oh, wait, yahoo, a space just became available. I pressed a little harder on the pedal and got there just in time for….darn, someone snagged it before me. I watched as a little old lady climbed out of her antiquated car, retrieved her walker from the trunk and hobbled into the bank. I recognized her as a reclusive neighbor on my street, Mrs. Tibbet, I believe, her’s was the ramshackle old monstrosity of a frame house on the corner lot. I almost honked at her out of spite just to see her jump, but then she might have broken a hip.

 My terrier, Scruffy, sitting next to me, eyed me as though he could read my mind and thoroughly disapproved of my thoughts. I looked him fully in the eye and exclaimed, “Hey, I said almost, I’m sure you would have thought to do the same thing.  She could have used the handicapped parking, oh, never mind,they were full too.”  

Finally, a space opened for me. I zoomed into it feeling lucky to not get a speeding ticket for the quick acceleration that nearly caused Scruffy and my bible to slide off the passenger seat.  I rolled all four windows down slightly and poured some water in a bowl for Scruffy. I’d only be gone a few minutes.

After I completed my banking transactions and was back in the car in fifteen minutes I noticed an envelope on the ground where Mrs. Tibbet had parked.  I pulled over, leaned out to retrieve it and found to my surprise several one hundred dollar bills in the bank’s signature envelope. I counted six in all, and then recounted to be sure none were stuck together. What a windfall! I thought about taking it back into the bank but it was too hot, and I couldn’t be sure it was actually Mrs.Tibbet’s. 

“Anyone could have lost it; after all, it was a busy public parking lot, wasn’t it? And I’m part of the public, so I guess the money is mine now”, I told Scruffy as I stuffed the packet between the pages in my bible for safe keeping and zipped the cover shut. People really ought to be more careful with their things, especially money. Scruffy sniffed my bible and gave me another of his infamous “looks” before he curled up on the passenger seat….with his back towards me.

I drove on home passing Mrs. Tibbet’s house where Scruffy and I caught sight of her bent over, her support hose exposed up to her thighs, going through her car, seemingly looking for something. Scruffy glanced at me to gauge my reaction. 

“I can’t be sure it’s the same envelope she’s looking for. If I stopped and asked if she was looking for an envelope with money, who wouldn’t say , ‘Oh, yeah, that was my money alright.’ Nope, I found it plain and simple. I didn’t break in and steal it from anyone; it was lying on the ground outside, in plain view. Finders keepers, loser’s weepers I always said.” Am I actually defending myself to a dog?

 With a clear and muddled conscience I went into my house, placed my bible on the end table by the front door and went about my house hold chores as Scruffy marched passed me with his nose in the air and eyes averted. Why did I feel like he was criticizing me?

A day or two latter my doorbell rang and I opened it to find a young waif standing on the porch, a lawn mower on the sidewalk behind him. I could guess where this was going.

“I’d be glad to mow your yard for you.” The youngster said.

Giving him the once over I asked, “Aren’t you kind of young for mowing yards?”

“Honestly, I can do it, I need the money for some new shoes.” He answered, pointing to his feet. I had noticed the threadbare foot ware he had on and the patchy clothes he was modelling, evidently a poster child for the area homeless shelter or a Charles Dickens movie.

“I’m not going to let you mow my yard with those flimsy shoes. What if you got hurt? Why can’t your parents buy you some, that’s their job?”

“I don’t live with them, my brother and I just moved in with my grandmother up the street and she was going to buy me some but she lost her money the other day. Her whole social security check. We looked all over for it.” He said pointing down the street to Mrs. Tibbet’s domicile. Six hundred dollars was her whole check, wow. Wait, I’m still not convinced it was her money I found, after all,  the waif didn’t mention an amount; it could just be a coincidence, albeit a tremendously huge coincidence.

Gulp. I glanced down at my bible on the end table by the door, still secreting the envelope of money.  Of course Scruffy had to be sitting there, head tilted. Watching me intently he stretched up and placed a paw on my bible. Now I knew I had to do the right thing. It was as plain as the nose on Scruffy’s face.

I took a deep breath and asked, “How much do you charge?”

With a sigh of relief, feeling he was winning me over, he answered, “Is fifteen dollars too much?” then he quickly inserted, “That’s for the front and back yard!” I had a gigantic back yard. If he’d seen it he wouldn’t have been so bighearted, but he needed to learn business acumen and how else but by making mistakes in judgment? He’d still be ahead by fifteen dollars. More than he’d have if I said no.

“Alright, but you be careful,” I admonished. “I’ll pay you when you’re through.” I stated. Well that was getting off cheap.

Scruffy stared up at me:  was he judging me again? I stared back at him and stated,” Maybe I’ll throw in some lunch and snacks into the bargain, with something he can take home for his grandmother.  She has got to learn to be more responsible with her cash withdrawals, next month she’ll be more alert, she won’t be so casual in regard with her material things.” Scruffy raised one eyebrow, shook his head woefully and trotted off. Why was I having this conversation with a dog? Why am I talking to myself now?

Wednesday night I packed my bible up that was still where I’d placed it days ago, untouched, retrieved the envelope out of its pages, deposited the envelope in my purse and headed for bible study at church.

There were neighborhood kids in the parking lot playing basketball with the church’s basketball net. We kept it there for our youth and also the area youngsters to keep them off the streets and out of trouble. I set my purse on the ground by my car door while I locked up. I didn’t trust the unknown adolescents and their backgrounds. Most of them looked like our future jail population: already tattooed and dressed for the part with shorts that had waistbands that fell around their knees so their plaid boxers could be flaunted, at least they were wearing boxers. Our church was in a struggling locality, a textbook place for Christian service, and personal danger, which is why I carried a small mace pen.  If I couldn’t win them for Christ, I’d blind them for Satan.

I dashed into the church hoping to be unnoticed by the “gangsta”  looking basketball players and found my bible study class. I just loved bible study, especially when we shared opinions and and feelings.  It made me feel spiritually close to God being with other believers.

I had just sat down an opened my bible when I heard someone in the hallway asking questions about a middle aged brunette wearing jeans and red tee shirt. I looked down at my get-up, sounded like I could be who they were talking about, except I wasn’t really a brunette, not any more, I was a store bought pseudo-brunette. Stepping out in the hall to investigate I saw a young man from the parking lot with permanent  ink all over his arms talking to one of the deacons. The young man was holding my purse in his left hand. OMG! I had left it on the ground by my car instead of hiding it in my trunk. How careless could I be? It had all my money and identification in it, the perfect jackpot for an identity thief.  How could I have been so lax?

The young man spotted me, politely excused himself from the deacon’s presence and walking over he extended my purse towards me with this explanation, “I noticed you forgot this outside. You should be more careful; my grandmother did the same thing last week with her paycheck and lost all her money. I would hate to see anyone else go through what she’s gone through this week.” Scruffy’s face flashed uninvited through my mind.

I accepted my purse with immense gratitude and a myriad of percolating emotions. I didn’t even bother to check the contents for missing items. I was positive nothing had been touched. The envelope was still securely mine. The young man had no way of knowing his grandmother’s meager earnings had just been in his possession for a brief period of time.  But I knew, and I’m guessing it was no secret from ….HIM…The ALMIGHTY….GOD HIMSELF.  I had a stomach-churning feeling I was supposed to be getting some divine message, here in his house, a house of worship. A home for sinners. See, I have learned somethings from bible study. Now it was time to put some of it into action.  However I was hindered from immediate action by shame and embarrassment.  After all, what was I supposed to say, “Oh here by the way I think I found that money your grandmother lost?”

The next day I revisited the bank and explained I had found an envelope with money in the parking lot and suspected I knew who had dropped it, without giving too many details that would make me look culpable. The bank clerk exclaimed she thought I was right because Mrs. Tibbet had been back asking if anyone had turned the envelope in. She had offered a reward if someone found it but felt certain she would never see it again. The clerk then pulled out fifty dollars from her till to make change for an hundred and handed it to me.

“Oh no, that wouldn’t be right, could you please just make sure Mrs. Tibbet gets this back,” I asked feeling expansive, not to mention just  a little afraid of God’s reaction if I accepted a reward from a woman raising two upstanding teenagers with such a meager income.

When Mrs.Tibbet opened the envelope that afternoon after the bank clerk called her she was downright amazed to see that her six hundred dollars had miraculously doubled.

That night Scruffy climbed into bed with me and snuggled up under my arms. Good grief, why do I feel like he’s just forgiven me? He’s just a dog after all. I encircled him with my arms and fell soundly asleep, more soundly than I had in the past week with my mostly muddled conscience.

 

John 8:9

John 16:8

Acts 24:16

Titus 1:15

Heb 13:8

1 peter 3:15-16

1 john 3:20

 

 

the ICU assignment (tabitha's death)

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.

dinner guest

 

Sunday, February 11, 2007

Dinner Guest

I slammed the pots and pans about the kitchen. I was hot. Not from baking but hot under the collar from work. My eyes were puffy from crying and my soul was mopping the floor with my tears. I hoped I would be left alone tonight, the last thing I felt like having right now was company. I dimmed the lights to discourage visitors.I went to the task of preparing dinner and setting the table, stewing the whole time about my day at work. I had been humiliated and slammed in front of two departments during a staff meeting,creating a hostile work environment at it's best. I had cried unabashedly for the first hour of work. I eventually got control of myself through God's power, begging him for inner peace. But as you can see, after I got home I rehashed the episode over and over.

Once all was in readiness I went to the bathroom and washed off my tear streaked make-up. I didn't even have an appetite.The doorbell pealed out, clamoring to be answered, followed by a gentle knocking and someone calling my name. I considered pretending to not be home, but I recognized the voice. He knew I'd be hiding.

Opening the door I greeted my guest with false bravado,"Hey, What a surprise." After I hung his coat up I embraced him, "Oh, I'm sorry, did I hurt your chest?" He looked pale, as though all his blood had been drained.

"No,you're fine. The scar is well healed." He replied, stroking the area above his heart where he had been pierced by a sharp object a while back.

"I was just about to sit down to dinner, care to join me?" Please say no, I thought, not eager to expose my emotions to this man.

"You bet. It looks great." Boy, was he kind. I had practically slung the burnt fish on the plates.

He limped over to the table and got comfortable.Before we broke bread I gave him the honour of blessing the meal. He was a master at praying. My appetite slowly returned and by the time he said,"Thank you Dad, amen." I was famished.

As we ate I launched into the particulars of my day at his prodding. He automatically knew something was amiss and I needed venting. Sharing the horrendous details with him lightened my heart considerably. The gentle look of understanding and sympathy on his ordinary face , marred with scratches, raised my soul. He was far from handsome but highly desireable. I passed my hand across the table and laid it on his. He brought my hand close to his heart, then kissed it.

"I had a day as bad as that myself, years ago. I was preaching to some simple folk in a field when church officials approached and whipped me with a chain. They didn't feel I had a right to teach people contrary to their way of doing things. They even sought to have me excommunicated from my own church and threatened those that heard me with the same action."

"What did you do? How did you get even?" I hoped for some earth shattering action I could employ also. I had to agree, my day at work was nothing compared to what he had suffered trying to bring people to God.

"I prayed for them."

"That's it. You didn't call the police. You had every right." I was shocked. He had been physically assaulted and let it go!


His story made mine weak, yet I said, "I want vengence." I was holding on to my anger. "

" 'Vengence is mine, saith the Lord.', Let your anger go. God will do things in his own way, better than anything you can do. Feel sorry for the perpetrators of your misery. The road ahead for them may be bleak enough."

My guest was correct. He had a better handle on things than I did, more insight. I didn't feel shamed by his admonition, instead I was grateful to him for his advice. I was truly delighted I had let him in the door.

"Do you know how precious you are?" I felt abased. He was perfectly right in his approach. Pray for those that hate you and spitefully abuse and persecute you. It was a lesson I would always have trouble learning.

He modestly held up his hands, scarred by an on the job injury, and exclaimed, "It's you that's precious. Don't give up being yourself, just give up being angry."

Dinner was finished and, saddly, it was time for him to go. He had other members of his flock to visit that were badly in need of counsel. How did he keep himself so trim eating at all these houses? I couldn't selfishly keep him here when so many were hurting.

"Will I see you again soon?" I asked, as I assisted him with his outer garment. Before he wiggled into his coat I noticed inflamed red scars that streaked across his back showing through his white shirt. Souvenirs from the chain lashing recieved from officials he had prayed for. My eyes stung with tears. I wanted to run my fingers down the scars but didn't. I couldn't claim to have problems greater than his."Just open up when I knock. Don't ever pretend to not be home," Winking at me, Jesus closed the door behind him but didn't lock it.

I bent my head in prayer. "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do."

Rev. 3:20Heb. 4:13

SURPRISES

I can’t take it anymore, the heat wins. I’m going to have to give in and crank the air conditioner up another notch before my hubby gets home. This heat wave is going to make the electric companies rich…richer.  I refilled my cup with more water and ice and sat back down under the fan in my round oversized chair, readjusted the many pillows, where Scruffy, my terrier, joined me, equally satisfied with my decision in climate control. A few seconds later Rocky, Scruffy’s pet squirrel, popped up onto my lap also. Well, I was stuck here for a while now. I always hate to disturb sleeping animals. At least I have hold of the remote control.

Cindy, my chronically effervescent teen, came in the back door griping loudly about something with her friend Angela. Scruffy twitched his ear as if he might get up to greet her but succumbed to his heat induced lethargy while Rocky nestled in closer to him affirming his decision to conserve energy.

“Mom, you won’t believe this,” Cindy stated crossing the barrier from kitchen to den. “We just saw Amber at the mall and she wouldn’t talk to us, in fact, she acted like we were complete strangers”

“Hmmm,” was all I had the energy for.

“She was real friendly looking with some hunk; I think he’s the quarterback for Middleton High. And she was dressed real …,” Angela added struggling for the right definition. “different.”  Well that covered a lot of territory as Amber was pretty conservative to avoid attention.

Shy, clumsy Amber with a hunk?  The school loner? The girl could barely keep from turning pink when she ordered a big Mac from the acne afflicted adolescent boy at the counter at McDonalds. This information got two twitches from Scruffy’s ears. Both ears.

I was saved from responding by the bell; the door bell. Guess who decided to pay a visit right now?  Amber, who Cindy and Angela jumped on simultaneously with thousands of questions but all it earned them was one very confused look as Amber denied vehemently her presence at the mall let alone with any boy.

 Scruffy and Rocky, who had decided their quiet time had been razed, plopped to the floor and sauntered away.

“Quiet,” I ordered as the national news came on. Scruffy halted midstep, sat on his haunches and stared at the television, then rotated his head from side to side as though he was looking at something or someone on either side of the television. For a split second I thought... no I definitely just imagined I saw two wispy figures pointing at the TV.  I’ve said this before but that dog was certainly odd at times and it must be contagious. 

 There on the screen was our reclusive neighbor from up the street, Mrs. Heldels. Oh my gosh, has it been 15 years already? She obviously had gotten some air time to beg for her daughter to call home. Fifteen years ago eighteen year old Stacy and her mysterious boyfriend left town to elope, after a rather ugly family argument that her mother has since been paying for, the poor dear. Mrs Heldels had threatened to disown Stacy if she went through with marriage before college and career paths had been completed. Cindy was just a baby when all this had happened. I looked over at her, grateful to God we had a good solid relationship; so far. Stacy and her beau left town at night and never looked back, apparently taking Mrs. Heldels’ threats seriously since they hadn’t been heard from since. Subsequently Mrs. Heldels and her husband divorced over the issue and she has been a lonely soul just going to work and back every day, refusing to move so Stacy could find her again. Living all alone with a younger daughter who she had kept under tighter control than Stacy, allowing the unfortunate thing no social life or after school activities until she was old enough to disappoint Mrs. Hendels  and move in with her dad. I said a silent, lengthy prayer for Mrs. Hendels to receive some closure.

Cindy and Angela resumed their attack on Amber. “How come you act so shy around us and we caught you dressed up with a star quarterback? We wouldn’t mind meeting his friends.”  I should have known the real issue was boy related, not that Amber had ignored them.

Before Amber could answer, Cindy’s phone went off shifting Cindy’s priorities leaving Angela and Amber to continue the discussion.

“Holy cow,” Cindy interrupted. “Look at this!” Cindy held up her phone causing Angela to gawk and Amber to temporarily freeze, what a nice feeling in this heat. One of Cindy’s numerous friends had texted a picture of Amber with, well; a hunk.

“That’s not me!” Amber declared taking the phone from Cindy’s hand. “Really, it’s not!”

How could it be, Amber was here and the picture was just taken.  The friend had texted Cindy how Amber was just not acting herself while pretending to not know anyone and claiming to be someone else. The question was what kind of drugs was Amber on.

 I made the only logical comment I could think of, “Well, I’ve heard we all have a twin somewhere.” Then I left teen drama world to go get my swimsuit. I don’t know why I was perspiring with a perfectly wonderful back yard pool that hadn’t completely evaporated yet. Scruffy and Rocky followed to peacefully recline in the pool side lounger.  Tree top squirrels chittered  away at Rocky, doubtlessly calling him a traitor for giving up wild live to be a kept pet, I many not speak squirrel-eze but some things can just be deduced.

Amber sightings continued throughout the following weeks, Amber at a football game, Amber at a water park in a skimpy two piece, Amber at a gas station with Elvis Presley, until one morning I received a visit from Amber’s mom, who seemed…a little agitated would be an understatement.

 Sitting in the kitchen drinking nice cold sodas Mrs. Kelley  Stenson struggled with her words until she revealed a very well-kept secret; Amber had been adopted (I didn’t see that coming) a fact even Amber was ignorant of. Well why should I have known that, it wasn’t any one’s business except the Stensons’ and it certainly didn’t mean anything to me.  Now wait a minute; the Amber sightings? Kelley suspected it might be a sister of Amber’s and she wanted me to help investigate it before Amber found out about herself on FaceBook. Her husband didn’t want to pursue this but had given Kelley the permission to do it on her own. What a descent chap.  I wasn’t at all sure I wanted to get involved in this. Oh, who am I kidding! I had been born with a healthy dose of curiosity tempered with enough good manners to feign the opposite.

Kelley and I did some research, found the adoption agency, filled out petitions and submitted them to the county clerk, got a satisfactory hearing before a judge, made a few calls and walla, there it was; the file of Amber’s history.  Amber did have an older sister also given up for adoption.  A sister that was just five minutes older since they were apparently identical twins! The other adoptive parents didn’t want two babies so the set was broken. This was brand new news to Kelley.  And there in print were the names of Amber’s parents.

Kelley unveiled the news to Amber at my house with Cindy present. To our relief Amber took the news quite well. It only took her about a couple of hours to accept the fact her parents weren’t her parents, and she had been lied to for all these years from people who endorsed complete honesty in all of her behavior. Kelley explained that no one had really lied, they just never told all the facts as they had always considered Amber theirs. Can you say “Rationalization?”Amber was thrilled with the prospect of having a biological sister and was relieved the Amber sightings weren’t the result of a split personality disorder.

Now to approach the sister.  Contact was made with Twins parents who had just moved into the area and were not opposed to the sisters meeting. Evidently they had been more direct with their daughter who knew she was adopted, but… one little thing had been withheld; the identical twin part. They needed some time to explain that to Twin who thought it was cool to also have a biological sister along with the other adopted and foster siblings her Godsend parent’s had, then they called to set up a meeting day and place. This was all fitting together so nicely.

Off we went, Cindy for moral support, Kelley and Amber and of course Scruffy who enjoyed   whole heartedly every outing that involved hanging his head out of a window going sixty miles an hour. As we crossed the lake on the outskirts of town I was shocked at how much it had dried up. Scruffy jumped from side window to side window in the back seat barking excitedly at the body of water. Sometimes I just don’t know what buttons get pushed on him.

We found the assigned meeting place on the other side of the lake marked by festive balloons tied to picnic tables and surrounded by strangers, presumably Twin’s family.  I prayed Amber would outgrow her bashfulness; fast. My prayers were answered; fast. Amber’s sister, Megi, was as serious an extrovert as Amber was an introvert and yet they hit if off fabulously. Megi  did all the talking, planning sleep overs, make up parties, and clothes shopping. Amber was going to emerge a new girl. It seems fifteen years of separation are nothing when twins share the same cramped womb for months; sucking  each other’s thumbs and toes.

It wasn’t long before Scruffy, who had been reasonably well behaved, started barking and carrying on, grabbing pant legs or shoe laces with his teeth, attempting to get someone, anyone to pay attention to him as he pointed towards something only a dog could see. Everyone laughed momentarily at his playfulness then resumed visiting causing his animation to go into overdrive. He wasn’t enjoying being ignored.

I decided it was time for a doggy timeout; however Scruffy had other plans as he dodged me and dived between a sea of legs. Everyone started springing for him to help nab him but dogs being dogs have a basic instinct for freedom and more agility than this forty something mother.

Someone finally lightheartedly yelled, ”Hey Scruffy, go jump in the lake!” Scruffy stopped evading us, sat down and appraised the lake. Oh no, I could see it in my mind’s eye. He was thinking that command through, running it through his hard drive. Yep, off he went at a full trot.

“No! Scruffy come back” I yelled in hot pursuit. I didn’t want a dirty-lake-water-logged smelly dog in my nice clean car on the ride home.

 Scruffy was almost at the lake when a lanky teenage boy (I still can’t get all their names yet) leaped in front of him. Scruffy eluded him and took a flying leap 500 feet from the bank that any Olympian would be proud of, into the water.  Wow, how did he do that? Once in the body of water he started to scramble onto something that he kept sliding off of and crawling back on till after an invisible looking boost he appeared to be standing ankle deep on the surface of the lake.  What the….?

Another teenage boy waded out in the shallow water to rescue Scruffy who had now calmed down having gotten his audience where he wanted them and was rather eager to get back to dry land.

“Hey there’s a car here!”  The boy hollered to the gathering crowd. “And I think I see bodies in it.”

Cell phones were extracted from pockets and purses all over the park. 911 was about to be bombarded until one level headed adult suggested he make a single call. Several emergency vehicles and a tow truck later the submerged car was resting on the dry land, and yes, two bodies, using that term loosely, considering their state of decomposition, were resting in the front seat.

A truck turned off the road and into the park grounds and a lone lady walked hesitantly down the incline. Mrs. Hendels very calmly exhaled the words, “Oh my God, that’s my Stacy’s car.”

Kelly and I exchanged glances that said, “what were the odds of this happening today of all days”, and went to stand by Mrs Hendels to offer support. After some postulating that would have pleased Sherlock Holmes, it was concluded that Stacy and her beau had been heading back home judging from the side of the road the car was on, or rather the side of the lake it was in, but had missed the curve and ended up … well that was obvious where they ended up.  To add a touch of comfort it was suspected they had died instantaneously from head wounds and not suffered a terrifying drowning.

The party was now considered officially and prematurely over so the attendees all headed home with mixed emotions of rejoicing in finding new family and sadness at the discovery of an old accident. I drove off with my dirty-lake-water-logged smelly dog who was restricted to the floorboard and the rest of my crew. Mrs. Hendels stayed behind to be with her daughter one last time until she was transported to the morgue for scientific identification that she considered superfluous. This was definitely her daughter, after all she had bought this very car for her sixteenth birthday.

At my house, before Kelley got in her own car with Amber, Kelley and I sneaked another look at the birth certificate to verify Amber’s biological mother’s identity and reasoned between ourselves that there would be no harm now in divulging that information. No invasion of privacy would be inflicted now.

Later that night Scruffy slinked miserably into the kitchen where Rocky proceeded to slowly circle around him.  After sniffing him from head to …butt Rocky laid down, flopped over on his back and did the squirrel version of rolling on the floor laughing his rear off. Scruffy shook himself vigorously from head to…butt and growled menacingly at the two fifteen foot wispy apparitions leaning on the kitchen counter as though to say, “This is all your fault.” After all, it was they who had plunged him into the water, they being Cindy’s and her mom’s guardian angels.

“Now Scruffy, isn’t a bath a small price to pay for helping Mrs. Hendels find her daughter and get some closure?” One wisp asked. “And never mind Rocky, I think the doggy cologne is very refreshing compared to flea and tick powder. Baby Pawder isn’t it?”

One more wisp emerged from nothingness and stood beside the first two and also bent over the counter to avoid cracking his head on the ceiling. Houses just weren’t mad for angelic visits.

“Well we have a good report for you. Stacy has watched the whole incident unfold upstairs and is thrilled that her mother has finally discovered the truth.”  The new wisp announced. “And she is equally excited that her daughters are back together and can hardly wait for her mother to be informed by Kelley that she now has twin granddaughters living nearby that she can smother with all her spent up affection . And when she sees the birth certificate she’ll find out Stacy and her boyfriend never married and were only gone 5 months at the most until they joined us.”

“Well I say it’s been a day well spent, let’s go home,” all three wisps evaporated just as rain broke loose on the parched land. After all the heat wave did it’s bit helping to expose a no longer immersed car and its passengers. Scruffy,deciding  to take advantage of the rain,  broke through the doggy door and rolled robustly around in a puddle. No one was going to put perfume on him and make him smell like a girl!

“SCRUFFY!” came from an upstairs window.

THE BEAST

Man, being cooped up all winter long with a two year old is not my idea of fun. I’m so glad the snow has melted and I can get out of the house for a while. Junior was having a fantastic time as he explored the meadow while I just relaxed and enjoyed the balmy breezes and the fresh open air, provided free of charge by God. Well, I relaxed as much as I could while being vigilant of our surroundings. We lived miles from civilization but we had to be careful. We’d had friends living nearby for a while but they wanted to put even more separation between themselves and the encroaching suburbs and moved further out where they felt they could be closer to God. We might follow them soon.

Being as far out in the wilderness as we were anything could pop up on us from nowhere and occasionally did. Most of nature avoided us but there was still the occasional unbalanced creature that thought it might be an adventure to tangle with us.  We were pretty close to the top of the food chain, one scent of us and most of the forest animals scurried away. This was reassuring yet at the same time an inconvenience when we needed to hunt for food. This spring I was going to teach Junior to fish and track dinner, after all the things you learn while young stay with you for a long time. He was getting old enough to be useful and the forest creatures needed to be thinned since they were becoming so numerous that the regional food supply was diminishing endangering the ecosystem.

The birds in the trees above me went quiet. Not a good sign. That usually meant something uninvited was nearby. Darn and I was getting such pleasure from their God inspired songs. I looked about. Nothing. The wind blew from behind me so whatever was nearby was down wind. One scent of me and it would run. No need to worry. Junior trotted up and grabbed hold of my leg. I gave him some berries God planted nearby for us and wrapped a protective reassuring arm around him to diminish his concerns. Berries in his mouth gave him a sense of security. Why would I feed him if we were in danger? I needed him to stay calm. All I needed was to have to run in two directions, after an infant or towards danger, when I could just run with the infant away from danger.

Leaves rustled nearby. Whatever was coming was not worrying about being heard. And it certainly didn’t have a good sense of smell.  Remember I was cooped up all winter long in a home without running water, bathing wasn’t a priority. And what bathing I did do was in the stream nearby. We lived pretty frugally here in the wilderness. Close to God and nature. Leaves rustled, twigs snapped, birds in the trees scattered. What a careless creature this must be.  Junior started to shake while I consoled him. I was well prepared to attack, weapons in hand.  I motioned for him to take cover in some nearby bushes. The sounds stopped. Nothing.  I stretched up slowly, exploring the area behind the bushes.

Yikes! Eye to eye. Face to face. It was horrifying. The beast was just as frightened as I was and it smelled even more rank than we did which I hardly thought was possible. It was covered in bird droppings and dirt. It’s scant hair was awfully matted and its limbs were etched with minor scratches.  It needed a good dip in the river. 

 I stretched my arms high above my head and roared threats out of my mouth just as I had been taught in survival classes attempting to look as intimating as imaginable. Junior stiffened; the beast dropped the berries in its hand and fled in the opposite direction the same way it had come: without caution. I snatched Junior and went in the other opposite direction as speedily as I could.

Finally when I had put what I assumed was adequate distance between us and danger I stopped to catch my breath, thank God for our narrow escape and let Junior ramble. I sat down and heaved in fresh air as I let my lungs recover. What a fright. That could have ended badly. Wilderness is definitely not for the faint of heart or non-athletic.

Out of the blue I heard Junior cry, I had let my guard down and he had wandered out of sight, and apparently into trouble. I followed the sound of his wails till I came to the edge of a cliff and there he was, on another level than I was. Down below, just out of reach on another ledge he looked up at me, not appearing injured just badly shaken. He stopped bawling at the first glimpse of me convinced that I, his mother, could solve this dilemma. Well right now I was not sharing his optimism. I sprawled out on my surface area, belly to dirt, and reached down for him but of course, just as I thought, he was just out of reach no matter how strenuously I stretched. Looking upward I prayed, "God, I need some help here".

Oh no. Down below I could see the previously mentioned beast as it stomped through the forest in our direction, again. Where did it get its wilderness training from? You could hear it for miles, wasn’t it the least bit afraid of hunters? Well, at least it alerted me to the danger of its presence. I started making a racket, and lots of it to scare it away. No good. The hideous thing kept right on coming. It stopped at the base of what was now our cliff. It seemed to be evaluating the situation. Was it considering Junior as dinner? I paced back and forth on my upper level making as many threatening sounds as I could. It didn’t deter Beast, as it pulled itself up a few feet to another ledge where it could reach Junior. I was frantic as I faced every mother’s fear of losing a child.

The Beast was now on the same protuberance as Jun[or. I felt faint and wished I could close my eyes.  The thing and Junior struggled for a few seconds till Beast got a good hold of Junior’s body and then it—it lifted Junior up towards me. You could have knocked me over with a feather. Help from God had certainly come in and unexpectedly hideous  form.  I quickly grabbed Junior by the scruff of his neck and took off again before Beast ascended to our summit and had us both for dinner altering my present opinion of God's mediation.

Once again after I put what I thought was a safe expanse between me and danger I plopped down to catch my breath, and thank God again. I wish I was safely back home, but wishing doesn’t make things so. Now what’s that commotion?  I got up on a boulder and scanned the area below me. There was yet another beast screeching incomprehensibly into the air. What ever happened to stealth? From my vantage point I also saw beast number one stumbling around, tripping over rocks and tree roots,  about three miles due east of the second interloper into my space.  It now occurred to me that beast number one might perchance be lost and helpless, possibly even stupid. Great. In my territory. I sat down to think this mess through. It now occurred to me that Beast actually tried to help Junior. Oh, that’s impossible, as a rule those beast don’t help, but then….every rule has an exception.

Okay, I have to come up with a plan. If I am right and I don’t help Beast get home I’ll never get any peace not to mention I’m getting too old for all this running. And after all, one good turn deserves another.  I grabbed Junior and headed down hill towards Beast.  Once I came up behind it I started a hullabaloo of epic proportions getting Junior to join in with me. Beast started running in the correct direction:  away from us and towards beast number two, which it almost collided with as it rounded a smaller hill.

The two beasts seemed ecstatic to see each other, as I judged from their prolonged hugging. What emotional creatures. Then Beast number two took Beast’s hand and led her away. They kept going on and on through the trees, making a racket I could hear from here, further and further till they were mercifully out of my sight. Beast number two seemed to know where he was headed. Problem solved at last. Thank you God.

No, the problem wasn’t solved. These beasts know where I live now. They are expert hunters, okay, maybe not these two but some of their breed are. What if they divulged our existence to others? They’re the reason my friends are gone on to more isolated areas.

I scrutinized Junior and examined the facts. God had sent me a message in this lovely little get-together with the Beasts. It was time to move on. Junior deserved a chance to live to a ripe old age and that wouldn’t be likely the closer civilization came, and this encounter was close enough for me right now.  The only weapons I carry are my claws and tremendous weight, weapons used for contact defense:  to kill food to sustain our existence and protection. These creatures carry uncanny sticks that cause death from great distances, and, at times, for no apparent purpose. What an unfair advantage they have!

I got to my feet, all four, and nudged Junior ahead of me.  The birds had restarted singing now that the beasts with all their clamoring had left the region. As I enjoyed nature’s symphony, provided by God Almighty, I aimed Junior onward and sniffed the wind hoping to catch a familiar scent. I guess its time to  find my friends, endure their  “I told you so’s” and end the loneliness of another winter hibernating in a cold cave with just a two year old. I prayed out loud so Junior could learn good habits and know who to trust, "God just be my guide, wherever you lead I will go."

Tune: HE LEADETH ME, Meter: LM with Refrain
________________________________________
1. He leadeth me: O blessed thought!
O words with heavenly comfort fraught!
Whate'er I do, where'er I be,
still 'tis God's hand that leadeth me.

Refrain:
He leadeth me, he leadeth me,
by his own hand he leadeth me;
his faithful follower I would be,
for by his hand he leadeth me.

2. Sometimes mid scenes of deepest gloom,
sometimes where Eden's bowers bloom,
by waters still, o'er troubled sea,
still 'tis his hand that leadeth me.
(Refrain)

3. Lord, I would place my hand in thine,
nor ever murmur nor repine;
content, whatever lot I see,
since 'tis my God that leadeth me.
(Refrain)

4. And when my task on earth is done,
when by thy grace the victory's won,
e'en death's cold wave I will not flee,
since God through Jordan leadeth me.
(Refrain)

 

 

 

 

THE RETREIVAL SYSTEM (dad's death)

THE RETREIVAL SYSTEM

Well, another day. The place was humming with activity, work, work, work. I had no assignment yet. Let me rephrase that, not having checked my in box I felt free to lean back in my chair and relax while sipping a wonderful locally made apple nectar. Ignorance is bliss.

Boss approached, slipped some paper into my in box that I now noticed was a third full, and gave me a casual look over. I had been busted. No words were exchanged but I still felt my cheeks tint to a convicting shade of pink. Boss was good at that, silently convicting people. It’s difficult working for the omniscient.

Apparently I was on pick up duty today. I read the first assignment, logged all the details to my magnificent memory and reached for my hat of choice for the day, an Oktoberfest Green Velour Tyrolean with a snazzy feather stuck in the braided hat band then I slipped on my loafers, loafers seemed appropriate as I'd gotten caught loafing.  Since my wardrobe is limited to a white robe I like to accessorize to express my individuality. I don’t do ordinary well.

As I got ready to stand I sensed the tension mount in the office. Coworkers started to protect their work spaces, fanning out their wings to cover loose paperwork and anything else not nailed down. I scowled at them, ever since I had caused a mini sized whirlwind a few weeks ago that rearranged everything in the office from filing cabinets to water cooler and everything in between they had isolated my work space to the farthest regions of the cloud. Come on, it’s not my fault I have such tremendously big and awesome wings! It is what it is. Definitely not my fault, I’m just the clay, not the potter. They had at the time plotted to trim my best asset to a more tolerable size and hung a pair of scissors by my desk as a reminder that the possibility of being downsized still existed.

I pulled my wings in close and slowly made my way through the wispy office walls, stunned with my own nimbleness. I didn't disturb anything, not one thing.  Work place bullying, that's what it is, I mused to myself. They're so jealous of my wings it hurts.

Before I made my trip downwards I headed to the heavenly scented activity room to invite a woman named Tessie to accompany me since she was a part of the details. I found her sitting in her more immediate family's section, chatting it up with ancestors she had just met mixed with those she had known and lost and refound. Reunions up here are a wonderful and a continuous event.  Once Tessie had passed all the admissions procedures; entering one of the pearly gates, passing Peter’s inspection to see if she was registered in the book of life, meeting Him  and receiving her crowns,  thousands of souls had lined up for miles for a meet and greet. She was their kin after all. All the way down to that first pair of humans…what were their names again?

I signaled Tessie over to my side and explained what was expected of her. She was never to leave my side and most importantly she wasn’t to interact in any way with those we would encounter down there, it was absolutely forbidden.

“But why am I going back?” Tessie asked, nervously fearing a mistake had been made and she was being returned to her earthly package.

“We have a pickup, someone you know.” I explained as I guided her to the takeoff platform.

“Oh, but it’s too soon,” she exclaimed.” I just got here; no one I know is ready to leave there yet, was there an accident of some sort?"

“Don’t bother yourself with the whys or where fore’s, It’s just time for someone you know.”

It was never easy to explain the time differences here since forever has no clocks, calendars sundials, or deadlines, actually we didn’t have anything dead up here. Suffice it to say she was wrong. Her father had said the exact same thing as she just did when he had been permitted to accompany her Retriever, that’s what we’re called on pick up duty, because we fetch. If you don’t get it now, you will later.

On the takeoff platform I gave Tessie a slight nudge with my wings holding back most of my enormous potential.  I didn’t want her to over shoot our destination and end up on the wrong planet, or in the wrong time zone. Being a good Retriever takes all kinds of talent and specialized training. So many little details.

The trip down was awesome and it could be hazardous, but not fatal, that risk was now long gone, sorry, once deceased always deceased; I didn’t say dead! Countless other Retrievers filled the air, together with their pickups and tag-alongs. Two lanes existed, one for coming and one for going, the incoming lane being more congested and wider. These lanes were filled with the lucky ones, the blessed, the redeemed. The not so fortunate, the damned, didn’t get a Retriever but were gathered somewhere else in a huge net and tossed into a horrible dark…I shuddered. The thought was too hideous even for me to complete.  Thinking about it even momentarily caused my large wings to quiver knocking some of the passing souls off their trail creating a domino effect and earning me glares from their Retrievers. Big wings, overcrowded air space, things happen, it’s not my fault. I didn’t ask for large wings.

Down on earth I pinpointed the exact location of my assignment without any difficulty, one of three area hospitals. Having been assigned to him since birth I had kept close tabs on him. I had visited him once in this same Emergency room years ago to provide comfort, wearing a cowboy hat and synthetic ostrich boots,  (after all he lived in Fort Worth near the Stock Yards), and now I was here to  visit him again, only this time to provide transportation home.  Many other Retrievers and tag-alongs were present for similar duties throughout the hospital and surrounding parameters.  Unfortunately, I winced; I also spotted some large nets. Shudder.

Tessie followed me into the curtain lined cubicle and curiously peered down at the man on the stretcher. He was older than she remembered his skin more fragile and bruised, his eyes were sunken and had that faraway look that comes on people when they are ready to shed the dirt and chemicals that make them human.  Yes time had changed him but she still knew him. Will, the man she had married and shared children with; the man that had cared for her through her life altering illness. Life altering, not life ending.

Tessie leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek leaving the scent of heaven in the air around him.

“What’s that smell?” Will asked his daughter who was sitting next to him.

“I don’t smell anything,” Daughter responded as she inhaled the air and looked into the eyes of the hospital personal caring for her dad. They shrugged, oblivious to any scents. They didn’t smell anything either. “’What do you think you smell?”

“Perfume.”  Will answered.

Tessie looked at me sheepishly, afraid she had stepped over the boundaries by interacting with Will.

“It’s okay, he’s almost one of us and his senses for our realm are getting sharper as he releases his hold on this world.”

“Are those my feet?" Will asked peering at the two dirty appendages sticking out from the flimsy white hospital sheet. He had been well cared for by Daughter yet having several pets around his house that constantly hid his slippers he could hardly keep his feet immaculate. He knew we were here. He was ashamed of his feet and didn’t want his bride of 30 years to see them.

“Yes dad, here let me clean them.” Daughter said as she washed his feet and pulled the sheets over them. Daughter then looked around the room. I know what she’s looking for, Tessie and me. This was part of the assignment, Daughter had prayed for years for this moment, to be near her dad when his time came so she could get a glimpse of her mom but to see into the other world was only allowed for those whose spirits were peeling away from their bodies.

Will’s time was near. He had been admitted to a private room and Daughter had gone home to get some sleep after being told that his condition was stable and the current treatment plan was going to be effective. According to the attending doctors he would recover from this relapse. Doctors, what do they know? Tessie and I accompanied Will to his room where we stayed all night providing succor. His body was weak and his spirit was ready to be liberated but we had to wait for his daughter’s return. She had prayed to be present at this moment for years and it was HIS plan to honor that request.  Details.

Daughter went to Sunday school the following morning and returned to the hospital at 11:00. She had time to open his blinds, chide him for lying in the dark, fluff his pillows and offer him a glass of water he requested. Then she sat next to him. Then….

Will laid his head on the pillow closed his eyes and slowly stopped breathing as Daughter watched, holding his hand.   A nurse entered the room and called a code blue. Daughter stopped her explaining he was a no DNR  (Do Not Resuscitate) as tears rolled down her cheeks. Once again she looked around for us, actually unknowingly meeting Tessie’s eyes. Tessie inhaled deeply. Her Daughter’s eyes held so much pain. Pain was something she couldn’t identify with anymore. It was a long past and faded memory.

Will sprang to his feet and stared at us. Surprised didn’t begin to define his reactions and I never would get used to the ecstasy expressed when the first day of forever was triumphantly realized. He reached for Tessie, swooped her into a massive hug then he jumped around the room flexing body parts that hadn’t moved in years while swirling Tessie around. Will’s Whooping and hollering mixed with Daughter’s wailing and moaning, total contradictions.   As she held Will’s inert physical  hand Daughter was deeply regretting the meaning of DNR, wishing she could reverse her decision as she looked around the room for signs of us. Not allowed, I reminded myself again, but she had been allowed the satisfaction of knowing we had been present when Dad smelled heaven. God sometimes answers in a small still voice, not in earthquakes or fires.

“Dad I love you,” Daughter wailed looking upwards. Engulfing her with my wings, which now didn't seem big enough,  I leaned over close to her ear and whispered, “He knows.” She didn’t hear as much as sensed my presence, yet the tears still poured forth. Will and Tessie couldn’t comprehend Daughter’s agony. Those emotions were deleted options in their new bodies celestial.

A rejuvenated Will, Tessie and I hit the air waves at 11:30 on Sunday, the day Christians revere as resurrection day, with several other Retrievers and their assignments. No baggage to hinder us. All necessities would be provided free of charge up stairs. Tonight people on earth would see heavenly phenomena they would explain away as shooting stars and comet showers.

Back in the office after I finished writing up and filing my report Boss ambled past my desk with another assignment. This time he found me honestly working, earning me a wink.

I picked up my new assignment and smiled. I logged all the details to my magnificent memory grabbed another flashy hat, slipped on some sandals and went in search of my next tag-along. I found him in the banquet hall with all the other souls waving palm leaves and glorifying the King.

Once I signaled him over to me I explained what was expected of him. He was never to leave my side and most importantly he wasn’t to interact in any way with those we would encounter  down there, it was absolutely forbidden.

“Oh, but it’s too soon,” Will exclaimed.” I just got here; no one I know is ready to leave there yet, was there an accident of some sort!”

No, Daughter had been waiting for this day for thirty earth years. Time just stands still up here for us in eternity.

1 kings 19:12

Math 8:12

Luke 16:22

Heb. 1:13-17

Rev. 7:9-17

Rev. 21:4

 Rev 21:27

When we've been here ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we've first begun.