Collecting Light

A Collection of Short Stories

Collecting Light

A Collection of Short Spiritual Stories

© Copyright Vanessa K. Eccles 2012

Published by BelleReve Publishing at Smashwords

All rights reserved.

These stories are fictional.

There may not be any copying or redistribution without author’s approval.

The Flood

I’m amazed at how much time I actually spend walking dogs. Let me see, each

walk is anywhere between twenty and thirty minutes, and I do that about five times a day.

How much of my life is that? Hold on. That’s approximately one hundred to one hundred

fifty minutes A DAY walking dogs. That’s over 8% of my time each day! Do I really

have nothing better to do than wait for my dogs to pee and poop, you ask? Sadly, it’s

true.

As a matter of fact, right now I’m on one of those walks. After practically

begging Coco to go, so we can get back inside to the air conditioning, I find myself

looking up at the piercing blue sky. It’s really quite beautiful today, and I suppose this is

one of the benefits to these walks.

In Texas sky is in abundance. Blue is a color that your furniture matches, because

somehow the outside always flows in. Brush, cactus, and dirt are the only vegetation, and

the land is quite unattractive. But the sky, the sky is always amazing. I think God gave us,

Texans, the vast blue to make up for the lack of green.

Today feels different than most of those sunny days though. It’s still hotter than heck, but

there’s a slight bit of humidity in the air. The smell of rain is a reminder of my childhood

in Alabama, and instantly I feel excited for a change of pace. A change, maybe a storm or

at least more than a half inch of rain.

Monotony is like a demon in my life, boring days that seems to run together like a

string of pearls. No day is different than the last, and there never is anything to look

forward to. But, I guess, it could be worse.

After their walk, I let all of them inside. I unhooked their leashes, took off their

harnesses, took off my shoes, and collapsed on the coach. The heat is killer out there. As

I stretch out to grab the remote, my phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Did you hear about what happened?” my mama asked frantically.

“No. What are you talking about?” I could feel the hesitation grow in my voice.

“It’s the Twin Towers in New York, and the Empire State building. They ran

planes through them. They’re expecting thousands to be dead. Oh my goodness, Mary,

what if this is just the beginning of more attacks? Where will be next?”

I could hardly breathe. I felt my heart flutter with terror, sadness, and anger all at

once.

“Turn on your television. I love you baby. Call me back,” Mama said as she hung

up the phone.

I spent the next few hours watching people jump out windows and hearing

screams that shattered my heart in two. For hours, I sat there watching the horror that my

fellow citizens in my great country were feeling, and here I was. Helpless.

Something in me grew that moment. It was the first time in my life that tragedy

struck my home…stuck my heart. The next several hours there was talk of terrorism and

war, and our world seemed to be in chaos and despair. Everyone was afraid to go

anywhere, and so was I. No one knew what would happen next.

What if this is the beginning of the end? What if we’ve went too far, and a world

war is on our brink? With tears in my eyes and fear in my heart, I grabbed my Bible. I

closed my eyes, and opened it. I set my eyes is the middle of the page.

I read, “The Lord smelled the pleasing aroma and said in His heart, ‘Never again

will I curse the ground because of man, even though every inclination of his heart is evil

from childhood. And never again will I destroy all living creatures as I have done.’”

And then, “Then God said to Noah, ‘I now establish my covenant with you and

with your descendants after you and with every living creature that was with you- the

birds, livestock and all the wild animals, all those that came out of the ark with you-

every living creature on earth I establish my covenant with you.’

Then God said, “This is the sign of the covenant I am making between me and

you, a covenant for all generations to come I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it

will be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth. Whenever I bring clouds over

the earth and the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will remember my covenant between

me and you and all the living creatures of every kind. Never again will the waters become

a flood to destroy all life.” (Genesis 8:21, 9:8-10, 9:12-15 NIV)

And there I sat at the edge of my bed, with tears in my eyes not able to make

sense of everything.

That’s when little Coco came to my side and whined. It was past time for their

walk, and they had been more than patient. I got everyone ready, and I tried to prepare

myself mentally to step away from the T.V.

I didn’t walk twenty feet before I looked up at the sky, and then I saw it. There

peaking from the big Texas clouds was a rainbow, in its glorious wonder shining its

beautiful colors down on the world… down on me.

I couldn’t help but stop moving, and I couldn’t help but marvel at it. Before my

eyes I saw God- His remembrance of an ancient covenant with His sinful people. More

tears appeared, and I fell to my knees. On the worst day of my young life, God was

speaking to my heart. I could feel His words, “I see the flood of tears among my people,

and I want to remind you that I am here, but remember that your life is eternal, an

immortal, and an everlasting soul.”

If I would have never taken my dogs out, I would have missed it. Now, 8% of my

day feels less like a chore and more like an opportunity.

Confirmation in tragedy is what we all seek, and somehow- I don’t know why-

but He chose to give it to me on that day. What happened on that awful day will never be

forgotten by my generation, and I’m sure that there will be more awful events ahead of

us. I just hope that in the midst of pain we can all take time to see the rainbows.

The Anniversary

Today marks the six year anniversary of the death of my baby sister, Sarah. She

was so beautiful with her long, brown curls. I can still see her now coming up the front

porch giggling with that smile. It was that sort of smile that made everyone feel good.

Ya’ know that kind. Some people just have that extra something that makes the world a

little brighter. That was her, my baby sister.

It’s been hard letting go of her, but harder for my parents. She was so young, and

no one feels like it was fair. Eighteen is just the beginning of life, really. She was so

excited about going off to college, and one day having a family. She was one of those

kind of girls- the kind that has been dreaming about her wedding day since she was two.

She was fearless, without a care in the world. For that I couldn’t help but envy her.

I, on the other hand, have never been the happy-go-lucky kind of girl. I’m just a

couple of years older than her, yet I felt more like a hundred years older. It’s just

something about how I view life that makes me feel much more negative about things.

My mother has never liked that quality in me, but it has never been something I could

change. I was never good in school, but I did go on to finish college. Barely. I’ve always

been somewhat of a disappointment, even to myself.

My parents fell apart when we lost Sarah. And who could blame them? She was

this little ray of sunshine in our lives. But I couldn’t help but feeling like they forgot

about me. They made it out like I no longer existed. They were too consumed in pain that

they forgot to recognize that they at least had another daughter. Was it wrong of me to

feel that way? Sometimes I feel guilty for being selfish in wanting the comfort of my

parents in my loss. Either way, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that losing her caused a

wall to be built up between me and them.

I’ve been going on about my life as if none of them have ever existed. Except for

the occasional phone call or holiday visit that is mandatory for my family. Everything

feels so rehearsed. We never speak of her, and we never mentioned anything about any

type of car accident. That’s how she died. One night her boyfriend was driving her home,

and a drunk driver pulled out and slammed into the passenger’s side of the car, right

where my sister sat. Her boyfriend had minor injuries, the drunk driver left without a

scratch, but my little sister never smiled that beautiful smile again.

Tragedy strikes everyone that I do know. No one is able to escape death, whether

it’s you dieing or you being affected by someone else’s death. I’ve learned not to blame

God. I sort of even understand. The world can only handle something so wonderful for so

long. The world destroys angels when it gets the chance. And that is definitely what she

was.

Tonight, the anniversary of her death, I try to remember in my own special way

every year. I usually go and lay a yellow rose (her favorite flower) on her grave during

the day. And most of the time I sit at home alone, I light a candle, and I say a little prayer

for her. I normally never call my parents; for fear that I might not know what to say. I

know that I don’t know what to say to them. I just let them remember their own way.

But today is different. For the first time in six years I was unable to clear my

schedule completely, and I’m feeling more than guilty about it. I did manage visiting her

grave this afternoon, but tonight I have this banquet at work that I can not miss. They’re

actually recognizing me as employee of the year. I can’t believe it, and I’m very honored.

But it still feels so wrong to have something so good happen on this day.

After accepting my award and mingling casually amongst the crowd, I still

couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt and sadness, so I decided to call it an early night. A

limo was hired to drive me for the night by my company, for which I was grateful since I

had had a few glasses of champagne. I made sure that I thanked everyone and left as

unnoticed as possible.

“203 Madison Ave,” I said to the driver as I stepped in the limo.

“Yes, mam,” he replied.

I let the partition up so that I could have a moment of quiet. I ran through

memories in my head of my sister and me as children, and then it blurred into the joy of

winning that award tonight. My head was spinning a little, and I figured closing my eyes

wouldn’t be a bad idea.

“Maggie? Maggie? Wake up,” I heard the soft voice say.

I batted my eyes at the bright light.

“What is it? Where am I?” I replied.

“You are with me,” the sweet voice answered.

And there she was, as plain as day. My sister was hovering over me like the angel

I had always pictured her as.

“Sarah?”

“It’s me, Maggie.”

Before I could say anything else, I wrapped my arms around her neck and

squeezed her.

“Sarah, I’ve missed you so much! I’m so sorry that I wasn’t able to remember you

the way I normally did tonight. Tonight I had something that I could not miss,” I cried.

“Do not worry. You have remembered me well all these years. You should not

feel guilty about anything.”

After seeing the honesty in her face, I felt safe enough to look around. There was

nothing but white. It was strange.

“Where are we? I must have had more to drink than I thought.”

“Maggie, I need to tell you something.”

“What? You can tell me anything,” I answered, placing my hand in hers.

“Tonight while you were on your way home from the banquet, your limo driver

fell asleep and ran off a bridge. You see, he had been up for more than two days. His wife

and he had been arguing, and he hadn’t had any rest in a while. He feels terrible, but

sometimes these things happen.” She waved her hand behind her, and then I saw the limo

driver slowly walk towards me with his head held low.

It was then that I realized what happened.

** Ocala County Newspaper **

Tragic accident leaves a second daughter dead for the Monroe family. Maggie

Lynn Monroe drowned in the Lincoln River last night after her limo driver drove off a

bridge. Coroner said that both bodies were D.O.A. She is survived by her father, Jerry

Monroe and her mother Cathleen Monroe. Maggie’s younger sister, Sarah, died six years

earlier to the day. Maggie was 26 years old.

Numbers

Inspired by a story my mom once told.

The moonlight kissed his cheek as we sat outside contemplating our next move.

We had been struggling for weeks now, and we both were feeling exhausted. But no

matter how frustrated I was about our situation, I still had time to notice the beauty in the

blessing that I had in him.

Our finances had dwindled down to nearly nothing. Our savings depleted, and we

were becoming afraid that Madison, our daughter, would suffer the most. She is only two.

We are new parents, and while this should have been a wonderful time in our lives, it was

more like a nightmare for us.

Jacob, the love of my life, lost his job two months ago. Luckily, we were able to

squeak by all this time while he searched for work. But he hasn’t found anything. I have

not worked for nearly five years now, and there aren’t piles of employers lined up outside

my door wanting to hire me.

Things were starting to become scary. I don’t know where we are going to get our

next meal, or how we will make the mortgage payment this month.

“What are we going to do, Jacob?” I hesitated to ask. I could see his mind racing.

I know that his desperation was breaking him down.

“I don’t know, Emma. For the first time in my life, I feel like it’s impossible to

provide for my family. I’ve looked everywhere for a job. I’ve already called in every

favor,” he answered.

“We will figure out something,” I assured him.

“Let’s just try and get some rest.”

The next morning was like any other. Jacob was up reading the classifieds in the

newspaper. I was busy getting Madison dressed and fed.

“I’m going out for a while. I’ve got to find some work,” he said.

“Where are you going?”

“I heard from someone the other day that some folks have been getting some

temporary work at Home Depot.”

“I didn’t know they are hiring,” I replied.

“They’re not. People have been just acting like they’re shopping; when in reality

they are asking the customers if they need any help on their home projects.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll see you later,” he said as he leaned in to kiss me.

I could see the desperation in his eyes, and I could feel the pain in his heart. He

has always been a great provider, but times are difficult for everyone. The economy is

shot, and sometimes life throws you lemons.

I had some errands that I needed to do before Jacob got home. I wanted to get the

car washed up. Madison had spilled some milk in the back last week, and the smell is

starting to get to me.

As I pulled up to the car wash place, I immediately pulled around to the vacuums.

I sprayed some carpet cleaner back there before I left, and all I needed to do was vacuum

it up. I placed 75 cents in the slot, and as soon as it started, Madison burst into tears. I

know it was the noise that was bothering her, but I had to get this done. So I just tried to

ignore it.

The thing stopped on me before I was even half way through, of course. After the

noise subsided, Madison’s cry was nearly ear-ringing. I unfastened her from the car seat,

and I pulled her out of the car. I stood her right next to me, as I shuffled through my purse

for some more change. I couldn’t find any more quarters. I could have sworn that I had

more. My frustration must have been apparent, because an old man approached me.

“Miss?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“I saw that your vacuum run out of time. Could I offer you some change?”

“That is so nice of you. Are you sure that you don’t mind?” I asked.

“No. Here, take it,” he said as he handed me the change.

“I really appreciate it.” I smiled.

“And this is for you, little one.” He handed a sucker to Madison.

I unwrapped the sucker and gave it to her. That was a lifesaver for me, because I

knew that she wouldn’t be crying if she had something in her mouth.

“Thanks again,” I said as he walked away.

He waved.

I went on with my vacuuming, trying to scrub all of the disgusting smell out of

the carpet. By the time the vacuum stopped this time, I was done.

I looked down and didn’t see Madison. He heart leaped. I immediately panicked.

“Maddy? Madison?” I yelled frantically.

I searched around the car, around the car wash stations that were nearby when I

began to think the worst.

“Mama. Mama.” I heard her little voice.

She then approached me coming from the corner of the parking lot. I ran towards

her and picked her up in my arms. I squeezed her.

When I finally sat her down, after a thousand hugs and kisses, she put out her

hand and opened it up. There was a folded envelope in her tiny hand. I opened it and

thumbed through what was at least a thousand dollars. I looked around to see if there

were any other people at the car wash. There wasn’t. Not one other car sat in the parking

area. There was no one. I hurried and buckled her up in her car seat, and I drove home

nervously.

I saw Jacob’s truck in the drive way as I pulled up. I could hardly wait to tell him

what Madison found.

“Jacob, you’re not going to believe what Madison picked up at the car wash place

this afternoon.”

“What?”

I showed him the envelope. He looked amazed as he pulled the money out.

“How much is this?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t even count it. It’s got to be about a thousand dollars.”

We sat at the table and counted the money.

“There’s twenty five hundred dollars here,” he said in amazement.

“I was way off, but then again I’ve never been good with numbers.” I laughed.

I hadn’t felt a bigger sense of peace in a long time. We were okay.

The next month I returned to the same car wash area, and the strangest thing

happened. I saw that same old man there. He was standing near his car, and when I

looked over he waved and winked.

My heart was filled with peace again as I smiled back at him.

Honor

Dearest Love,

There’s so much that I want to tell you. I don’t think that it is possible to fit it all

in a letter, so I’m sure that this won’t be the last.

Let’s start out with the two most important things. I love you. I miss you. There’s

nothing in my life that I’ve found so far that can distract me, even temporarily, from

those facts and feelings. You’ve been my best friend for years, and you are no doubt my

soul mate. The piece that completes my puzzle, the moon in my night of stars, the sun

that lights up my world; you are the love of my life. I know cheesy, right? I can’t help it.

It’s like Shakespeare said, “My bounty is as deep as the sea, My love as deep; the

more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.” My love for you is

immeasurable.

You’ve been gone so long that I’m not sure where to start. My life has changed a

little bit since the last time that we have seen each other. I did end up getting into the

culinary school that we spent so much time applying for. I can’t believe it, can you?

Thanks for all your help on that, by the way. Sugar, our sweetest pup, is doing great. She

keeps me company on those lonely nights. She was the greatest birthday present that

you’ve ever given me. All the family is doing well. Your mom is even doing better. She’s

taking everything in stride. So, all in all things are okay.

Do you remember the first time we met? It was a cold winter day in the park, and

I was completely lost. I had just moved to New York, and I’m sure it was painfully

obvious. You were laughing as you approached me. You were so cute. Remember? I

could barely speak when you came up. I thought that you had to be the most handsome

man that I had ever seen. My heart had to of skipped a beat. We ended up sitting on a

bench and talking all night long. Then we ate at that little diner on the corner, the one that

we now have labeled ours. That was the most magical evening that I’ve ever had. That’s

when it all began.

And what about our wedding day? You surprised me so much when you

proposed, and instead of handing me a ring, you gave me plane tickets to Vegas. That

was brilliant, I might add. You knew that I never had any desire to have a wedding, or to

have to go through the nightmare of planning one. But I always thought how brave that

was of you. What if I would have said no? Anyway, you knew I wouldn’t. That trip

always makes me laugh when I think about the cliché of an Elvis impersonator marrying

us.

I often find myself running through these memories in my mind. I’m trying to

keep them alive because I never want to let go of any part of you. The day that you left

me is the only day I wish I could forget. Kissing you good-bye at the door that morning is

hard for me to recount. It was the last time that my lips would ever touch yours, and I

hate myself for not making it linger longer. There are so many things that I would

change. There are so many things I would do differently.

I wonder where you are and what you’re doing. I wonder if you’re happy, or if

you’re alone. Are you some place warm or cold? Do you miss me? Will I ever see you

again? There are too many questions. There are too many that won’t ever be answered.

I talk to God a lot now. He’s been the only man in my life for quite a while. He

makes me feel like there is somewhere after this, which gives me hope that I’ll be seeing

your sweet face again.

I can’t lie in saying that after you died I was strong. I wasn’t. I was devastated,

broken, hopeless. I stayed in bed for weeks. I could barely breathe most of the time. It

was horrible to have to bury the man of my dreams. The perfection of our love was a

miracle. But with that miracle was a brief time line that has torn me apart.

I’m going by to see you this afternoon. I’m bringing roses this time. I’m also

going to leave you this letter. As impossible as this may seem, I feel like you can read

them. I need you to read them. It gives me peace to know that I’m finally able to tell you

what I never had the chance to that say.

I just hope that no matter where you are you know that I loved you more than

anything. Someday I know we will meet again. You were a gift from God, and I thank

Him for you everyday. I am honored to have been your wife.

Eternally yours,

Kayla

The Conversation

Trials and tribulations have become a constant in my life. There is nothing more

exhausting than fighting for happiness on a daily basis. I walk one step forward only to

find myself three steps back. Depression has become the only consistent variable in the

whirlwind of emotions I face, daily.

This morning I woke up to the same regret and despair that I wake with every

morning. I dread the day and crave the night. The sunrise forces me to face my demons,

fears, and lack of self. Night is my only console. Sleep is my only peace. But today was

the beginning.

I went to work, as usual. I had a typical day. I made a thousand phone calls to let

people know that they owed the hospital money, and I received more than a thousand

excuses on how they couldn’t afford it. Somehow people don’t realize that I’m not the

one to plead with, and that I have no say-so in the matter. I try, nevertheless, to be sincere

and apologetic even though I know that I’m one of their most hated callers.

By the end of the day, I was ready to go home and get away from it all. As I was

about to walk out the door, a co-worker of mine came running towards me.

“Jenny, there’s a phone call for you. She said that she talked to you earlier,” she

said.

“I’ve talked to a lot of people earlier,” I snapped.

“She said it’s important,” she insisted.

“Fine,” I replied as I rolled my eyes.

I just knew that it was going to be someone trying to make one more plea to lower

their payment or give them an extension. I just didn’t know if I could handle it or not.

How can I always care about every single person?

“Hello?” I asked, hoping they had hung up.

“Hi, my name is Lily Watson. I spoke with you briefly this morning.”

I tried to think through the countless conversations I had, but I couldn’t remember

her specifically. That didn’t surprise me because I vaguely remember clocking in.

“Yes?” I questioned the old woman.

“I needed to talk to you one more time. I have a message for you. Today your

sadness will be taken away. Today your peace will be restored. Today is the beginning,”

she said humbly.

“What are you talking about?” I asked frustrated by all the strangeness.

“Ask and you shall receive.”

“Receive what?”

“Receive life,” she stated.

“Listen, lady, you don’t know anything about me. I don’t appreciate you calling

up here and wasting my time. I’m tired and it’s time for me to go home,” I said as I hung

up the phone.

I was annoyed at her audacity to call me back to preach to me. What did she think

that I was going to get saved and forgive her debts? Like that was even something I could

do. I shrugged the conversation off by the time I finally got into my car.

When I was about five minutes from my home, an oncoming car that had run a

red light struck me. From what I was told, it must have knocked me out instantly. I have

no recollection of the accident at all. I remember coming to in the hospital, where a

young nurse told me that I was involved in a major accident but that I was okay. When

the ambulance arrived, they said I didn’t have a pulse. What caught me by surprise, were

her next words.

“God gave you another life,” she whispered as she gently squeezed my hand.

I tried to reply, but I couldn’t speak. I was speechless. When she left, I lay there

alone in a hospital bed with a head injury and a broken leg. The desperation came out of

me like flowing water.

“Why, God? Why would you allow me to live? I’m so miserable with my life. It

would have been okay to let me die! I could have accepted that more! I don’t want to go

on!” I cried.

I thought about all the depression that I had been feeling for what seemed like

years. I thought about how nothing ever seemed to ease the pain. My heart ached for

relief, when I noticed a little teddy bear sitting on nightstand. I picked it up for some

reason and hugged it close to me with tears streaming down my face. Then I heard the

most incredible words.

“Because I love you.”

The bear had spoken to me in the softest tone. I almost laughed at the silliness, but

I knew that it wasn’t the bear. It was God. I became filled with hope, faith, joy, and love.

I took one deep breath that filled my lungs with purity, and then I burst into a huge laugh

that released all my pain.

Two weeks later, I was able to return to work. My life was new, and my heart was

full. I had decided to put my two weeks notice in. I knew that I could find a job that

enriched my life more than this one. But before I could leave I had to find out Lily’s

phone number to thank her for paving my soul for reconstruction with the conversation

she offered me. I searched every computer that I knew of for Lily Watson’s number. I

even looked on the call list that I had that day. I found nothing. It’s as if she never

existed.

I still have the little teddy bear, although I never found out who left it there.

What’s strange is, the bear still says, “I love you.” But it has never since said, “Because I

love you.”

The Nature of the Beast

“Aren’t you forgetting something,” I whispered to mi amor before he could make

it to the door.

“I am?” he asked as he grabbed my waist and pulled me close.

“A kiss?”

He kissed me, and then he was off again.

It’s only been four months since I’ve met Miguel, but there’s not a doubt in my

mind that he’s the love of my life. His heart is the purest of any man that I’ve ever

known, and I now can’t imagine my life without him. I am utterly in love.

This morning we woke up to a phone call. Miguel is a volunteer firefighter in

addition to his full-time day job, as the owner of a construction company. Apparently, he

was called in because there was a terrible structure fire downtown. I hated the thought of

him leaving. It seemed like I never get to spend any time with him between his two jobs.

But, I suppose, there is no way that I could ever get enough of him.

I’ve been lying in the bed ever since, trying to wait patiently for him to return. I

eventually fell asleep, and when I woke, it was six hours later. He has never been gone

this long before. My heart began to race once the realization hit. Worry flooded my mind,

and before long I was dressed and up. When the bad feeling didn’t cease minutes later, I

decided to call him on his cell phone and then the firehouse. The phone rang. Nothing.

With every ring, I began to grow more and more anxious. Answer! I began to panic when

he didn’t.

I began to pray; that’s all I knew to do. When in desperation, pray. I remembered

my mama praying when she thought she couldn’t handle something, and there was no

way that I could handle losing Miguel.

Heavenly Father, I know that we haven’t spoken in a while, but I need you. I

need you to bring Miguel home to me safely. I know that I haven’t been living the way

you want me to, and I promise to change. Please, Lord. I need you. I come to you

because I know you hear me, and I know that you will be there when I call. So… I’m

calling. Bring him home, please!

My short prayer didn’t calm my nerves a bit. It actually made me more nervous

that I didn’t feel any different. At one time in my life, the Lord and I were on speaking

terms. I know what it feels like when He speaks to me, but not today. I heard nothing.

The silence slowly killed my hope. I sat in the kneeling position by my bed for what

seemed like hours. Then the phone rang.

“Hello?” I gasped.

“Ms. Lynn?” the man asked.

“Yes?”

“I’m calling to inform you that Miguel Adams was killed today in a structure fire.

I’m so sorry, mam.” The man’s voice faded with sorrow.

“No. Not Miguel,” I cried.

“I’m so sorry. He was a good man,” he said just above a whisper.

I dropped the phone and gasped for air. Suddenly there was no oxygen left in the

room. There was no light, no hope, no love, only despair filled me. My intense pain

crippled me to the ground. I screamed. It had taken me twenty-eight years to find mi

amor, and now he’s gone. Just like that, in an instant. How can that be?

Anger replaced sorrow in a matter of hours. I had prayed. I had pleaded to God

for Him to keep Miguel safe. Tears were replaced with strong words.

Why didn’t you save him, God? Why would you take him from me even when I

promised you that I would change? WHY? I don’t understand. You are not a graceful

God! You did not give me life more abundantly. You took it away!

I screamed.

Then I heard a rumble. Rain began to beat on my window, and a flash of bright

lightening lit up the night sky. Suddenly I saw a bright light entering my bedroom. I

could barely keep my eyes opened. The intensity was immense. I covered my face with

my arm and fell to my knees.

“Be still and listen,” a voice demanded.

I could not speak.

“You asked me a question. I promised that if you ask, it would be given. Why did

I not save Miguel even after you promised me that you’d change? Have you not promised

me before that you’d change? Have we not already been through this? Promises are

nothing if they are feeble. Your intentions change daily. What you decide today may

change tomorrow. You are still weak minded and undetermined.

Would a loan shark continue to make deals with someone who doesn’t repay their

debts? I think not. The loan shark would take their life. The debtor would pay. Yet when

you come to me and try to make deals, and you know that I would not take your life. If

you kept up on your end of the bargain, your life would be more abundant. It is a win-win

for you, and yet you chose to forsake me. I do not understand.” The Lord wept.

I sat there not believing what was happening, but I couldn’t help but question

Him.

“Why would you let him die?”

“What makes you think that I would have let him die? I am the giver of life,” He

said.

“Why would you let this happen to me if you loved me?” I cried.

“Things happen that are beyond your understanding, but I am your Father. You

are my child, and I love you as such. I do not exist in your world, though. Your lack of

faith has caused you to live an unpleasing life, and this is how the world repays you for

choosing it. It is the nature of the beast.”

After a few moments of reflecting I replied, “No more, I promise.”

I couldn’t tell, but it seemed like we were both weeping at the same time. My

heart opened up and love poured in, and it hurt so good.

The phone rang. I woke up.

“What do you want me to pick up for lunch?” Miguel asked.

I cried.

The Race

“Nothing can be done. The prisoner is escaped.” I heard the guards say as I turned

the corner.

“He has got to be found. No matter the circumstance. Find him!” The chief yelled

as he waved us away.

I had no idea what was going on. I was awaked in my chamber by a fellow guard.

We were summoned by the chief for an important matter. Before I could make it to

everyone, we were waved off. I had to find out the details to our mission somehow.

“What happened?” I whispered to Malachi, a friend of mine, as we ran with the

other soldiers towards the exit of the castle.

“Lord Darkfir has escaped,” he answered.

I realized that it must have been important, but I had no idea that the situation was

so dire. Lord Darkfir is the criminal of all criminals. He is a liar, thief, and murderer.

He’s a master of sorcery and dark powers. The entire village would be in uproar if they

knew of his escape.

The story of Lord Darkfir will never be forgotten in the minds of the village

people. He spread terror across this land. He tortured and murdered women on random.

His detestable acts only came to an end when he attempted to make a royal his next

victim. It was then that the royal army captured him and held him captive for nearly a

decade.

Once we all made it out of the castle gates, we stopped to compose a plan.

“He’s surely headed out into the village to find refuge. We have to search every

home, building, and church,” one guard said.

“I think that he would be smarter than that. I think he will run to the village edge

and find hiding in the forest,” another spoke.

“Here’s what we will do. We will search everywhere, both village and forest. All

of you start the search within the walls, and the rest of you search the perimeter of the

kingdom,” Sir Marcus, second in charge, commanded.

I was assigned the woods. I was new to the royal army, and I had never once

stepped outside the kingdom walls. I felt a sudden rush of both adrenaline and anxiety. I

wanted nothing more than to be the one to find this dreadful creature and send him back

to the dungeon where he belonged. He had to be stopped!

There was a group of about thirty of us, which seemed to be not nearly enough

compared to the vastness of the trees.

“Spread out and look for anything that will reveal him. But be quiet, as we do not

want him to run,” Sir Marcus told us.

We all went our separate ways. We all stayed close to the wall, being as none of

us had ever spent much time on this side.

After looking and listening for about a half an hour, I finally came across

something that seemed strange to me. There was a piece of white linen on a tree branch. I

looked around for another guard. I wanted to have someone assist me in the capture, if I

were to find him. But I found no one. I remembered that I couldn’t yell for anyone. He

might hear and run. So I did what I had to, and that was to head in the direction that I

found the linen.

I only had a small torch that let off barely enough light to see what was in front of

me, but I used it to my advantage. I pointed it low to the ground, and before long I was

seeing footprints on the moist dirt.

After about ten minutes of walking cautiously, I began to see a dim light in front

of me. It was a camp fire. I could smell it. I stomped the light out of my torch and

approached with extreme caution. I just knew in my heart that this was Lord Darkfir. My

heart began to race, and the bravery that had been breed in me began to fill me from

within.

I pulled the bow from my shoulder and an arrow from my back as I became just

feet from the fire. I stood hidden in the woods. I searched the campfire with my eyes to

find him, but I saw nothing.

“My boy, you have lost,” he whispered in my ear.

I turned rapidly to face him. His evil grin set my rage in motion. I pulled back the

arrow and pointed it straight towards him.

“I’ve lost what? It seems as though I’ve found you,” I snarled.

“The race to find and capture me.”

“The race ends here. You’ve lost again, Lord Darkfir.”

“But it is not yet over,” he whispered with his raspy voice.

“Light is never conquered by dark, and God never lets evil prevail.”

By the time I got those words out of my mouth he was standing behind me. I felt

him grab me and then something cold touched my neck. He had me by the knife.

“Where’s your God now, my boy?” He laughed boldly.

The Return

As the morning mist kisses the rays of sunshine, I sit on my back porch with my

cup of coffee and admire the beauty of the rolling hills. Nothing ever bothers me in the

mornings. I’ve found my refuge in the country setting of South Alabama. I kick my feet

up on the railings, and I bask in the peacefulness of the quiet. Nothing could be better.

My life has gone a through a significant change in the past ten years. I was born in

a small town here in Alabama, but when I got married, I moved to Texas with my

husband. He received a job on the Mexican border, and we ended up living there for

eight, long years. The culture and language barrier was more than I could stand, most

days. I was uncomfortable living so far from everything I know. I never thought that life

would change. Sometimes it felt like I was destine to be unhappy and stuck in that place.

Things did change, however. One afternoon my husband came home from work

and said that we needed to talk. I felt nervous, instantly.

“I got a phone call today,” he said as he sat at the kitchen table.

“What is it? Is everything okay?” I asked anxiously.

“Everything’s fine. I was offered a job,” he smiled.

“You weren’t even looking for a job, were you?”

“Not really. You know that I’ve been applying for years for something closer to

home, but we’ve never had any reasonable offers. Well, until today. I finally got it! We

are moving home!”

That was the beginning of the rest of my life. It was something that I had been

praying for since we’ve been torn away from my sweet home. I couldn’t help but tear up

when it all finally sunk in.

It took us a few months to make the move, but it eventually did happen. We sold

our house, packed up everything, and took off. My parents were more than ecstatic about

us coming back. Life was finally starting to make sense again. My yearning for home

would cease now that I was back in Alabama.

I felt like I had been desperately searching for my purpose and for happiness all

those years in Texas. But it wasn’t until I returned home that I finally figured out what it

was.

Unfortunately, I noticed that the same troubles that were plaguing me back there

followed me here. I felt lost. We were financially broke and had been for some time.

Moving again didn’t help. My desire to go back to college didn’t go away just because

we moved. Our marriage was solid, but I still lacked happiness.

My dreams and desires were put on hold after my husband and I decided to take

the job out on the border. We both wanted a better life, and he was able to supply that

with a good paying job. I understood this. I was blessed in reality, but there was always

something missing. I’ve never felt the peace of contentment. I’ve been feeling like a

version of myself but never truly whole.

After about a year of settling into Alabama, things started getting better. We had

finally gotten out of some debt. We were able to spend some great time with our families,

and we had even become okay with them popping in at anytime. I had even gone back to

school. We became involved in the best church ever, and life became good again.

Six years later, I finished college. I obtained my doctorate degree, and was

teaching at a local university. My husband and I both were finally fulfilling our purposes.

The part of me that was missing was replaced with a vast hope and joy for the future.

One night I had a dream that I was in Heaven talking to God. We were having this

conversation about the move that changed my life.

“Thanks for giving us the opportunity to move back,” I humbly said.

“It wasn’t me who gave you that,” He said.

“What do you mean? Moving back home brought so much joy to my life, how

could that not have been you?”

“You see, my child, it was not your return to Alabama that set your heart on the

road to contentment. It was your return home,” He answered.

“I’m confused.”

“Your return to me.” He smiled.

I woke up the next morning with this dream planted vividly in my mind. I had

never thought about that before. He spoke the truth. It wasn’t until I came home that I

seriously searched for my purpose in life and for Him. I had wasted years feeling sorry

for myself and putting my life on hold. I was waiting for something that could have never

happened, when all I needed to do was live!

Ever since then I’ve made a special point to sit out on my back porch and marvel

in the glory of His work. This earth, this job, this temporary body, this moment, this

wonderful life, is all His. I never want to fall away or forget Him again. I never want to

take for granted the opportunities He has for me no matter where I am.

I just wish that I could go back to the dream and tell Him, “Thank you for

accepting me when I returned.”

Less Traveled

I’m weird and proudly so. I’ve never liked fitting in or being a part of the crowd.

I’ve always heard that people can be classified as two different types: leaders, followers. I

have to say that I strongly disagree. I’m not a follower by any stretch of the imagination,

nor am I a leader. I think I’m sort of a loner. I march to a beat of my own drum, and I’ve

never met a pea from my pod.

With all this being said, I’m not a total kook. I live a normal life: job, family,

church. But I focus a lot of time questioning why I feel the way I do. Mainly I’m trying to

make sure that I don’t believe in anything just because someone told me to. I also spend a

great deal of time thinking about reasons that justify my thoughts and opinions. I don’t

know why. I suppose I want to be prepared if I were ever questioned, which is highly

unlikely since I avoid confrontation like the plague.

I often find myself rebelling against common opinions. Not on purpose, but

because it’s what comes natural to me. This is what I’m currently trying to work on.

I live alone, and have for some time now. When I graduated college I moved to

Arizona. I had always thought that Arizona looked like it would be nice, so I just did it. I

had never been, and I didn’t know anyone. But I knew that things would work out. They

always do, right?

That was five years ago. I’ve since found a job, found a condo in the foothills, and

have made a life for myself in where I consider to be the best place to live in the country.

I go to Northside Methodist Church, where I am an active member. I haven’t yet found a

man, but I’ve never actually looked either. I’m quite content with my life. Being alone

doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable, like I’ve heard some people say. I feel like my life

is pretty good.

Today after leaving work, while driving home, I saw a woman walking down the

highway with a baby in her arms. I’m accustomed to seeing homeless people on the

Tucson streets, but I’ve never seen a woman with a baby like that before. I instantly

slowed down, and I thought about giving her some money for food. I felt like I had to do

something.

I realized that I didn’t have any cash. I was never good at keeping cash on hand,

but I knew that my bank was just right around the corner. I made a plan to go get some

quick cash out of the ATM, and then go back to where I last saw the woman. I just hoped

that she was still there, so I could help.

I saw her. I pulled into a parking lot that was nearby, parked the car, and

approached her.

“Mam?” I asked.

“Yes?” she stuttered.

“I wanted to give this to you.” I handed her the cash. She looked at me with

painful eyes and tried to hold back tears.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Is there anything else I can do?”

“That’s okay.”

“Are you hungry?” I finally asked.

She nodded.

“Come on. I am just heading home, and I’d be glad to make you dinner.”

We sat silently in my car. I think we were both too afraid to speak. I couldn’t

believe that I had just picked up a random person. Everything I’ve ever known in my life

forbids me of doing this. And it wasn’t her that filled me with the desire to do so, it was

the baby. The soft cry of a hungry child brought the nurturing spirit in me that I had never

known I had.

When we approached my condo, the woman seemed curious. She looked around,

as if to notice everything in our surroundings. She still sat silent. I motioned for her to

come into the house. She did, and she seemed astonished at it. She touched every piece of

furniture, and she ran her fingers across the fireplace mantel.

“What can I get you to eat? I have left-over Chinese,” I said looking through the

fridge.

“Whatever you want.”

“I was planning on making spaghetti, would that be okay with you?” I asked.

“Sure.”

I put the spaghetti on, and then pulled out a crocheted blanket my mom made.

And I gave it to the baby.

“Here.”

“You’re kind,” she said.

During dinner we said very little to one another. She told me that she was

homeless, and that she wasn’t sure who the father was to the baby. She told me that the

baby was six months old, and that her name was Laura. I asked her why she hadn’t gotten

any government help, but from what I gathered she must have been in some trouble. My

heart went out to her. She just seemed lost and overwhelmed.

I asked her if I could take her to a shelter, and she agreed. I excused myself

upstairs to my room, so I could grab some clothes and personals for her. I couldn’t

imagine not having anything, and I knew that I had plenty to spare. I left her waiting on

the couch.

“I grabbed you a few things to take with you,” I said as I walked down the stairs.

“Miss?” I looked.

She was gone. Not only had she left, but she had taken my wallet. Of course, I

was completely pissed off at myself for being so naive. I couldn’t believe that the one

time that I stuck my neck out there for someone, I had gotten burned.

I spent the night making a police report, for the appeasement of my bank. I spent

an hour canceling my credit cards. Then I went to bed angry and disappointed in myself

and in her.

The next afternoon, I passed by the same place where I had picked her up the day

before. Sadness and frustration reenter my mind. I shrugged it off as another failure in

human trust.

When I got home, I ate my left-over Chinese. I curled up on the couch and fell

asleep. At about 9 o’clock, I woke to someone crying. I turned the T.V. down, and

listened to hear where it was coming from. I stood up, walked towards the door and

opened it. There she was, baby Laura wrapped in my mom’s crocheted blanket. A letter

was tucked into the blanket.

Miss,

I know that you will take good care of her. She needs a mom who can provide for

her, and you were kind and trusting. I want her to be like that. I want her to be different

than everyone else, who would have kept driving. Thank you.

That was twenty years ago. After a while, I was awarded full custody of Laura.

Me, a single woman, who had no idea how to take care of a child. But she brought life to

me, and she’s been the best thing to ever happen to me. She’s now a freshman in college.

She wants to be a social worker. She’s an amazing person, and I’ve been blessed to have

her.

What I always find so amazing was the last sentence she wrote, “I want her to be

different than everyone else, who would have kept driving.” She left me this incredible

gift because I was different, not in spite of. I was rewarded for the first time in my life for

taking the road less traveled.

Wherever you are, Miss, thank you for your gift.

What I Dug Up

The misty mornings that envelope the Carolina beaches are ones to inspire. I

spend most of my mornings walking the shore in search of a deeper understanding of life

and peace.

Losing contentment is a battle that I daily face. Fortunately, though, the beach

serves as a middle ground between utter defeat and ultimate happiness. It is my

sanctuary, if you will.

Last week I was facing a particular difficult challenge. I had lost my contract with

a local art museum. It seems that some other, more talented, artist had shown interest in

some space. Being as I have not sold one painting in seven months, I was the first to be

booted. It was not a surprise really, just a reality.

It was then when I was walking along the beach trying to find purpose in my

failure, that I saw it. I could see a glimmer of gold in the wet sand. It sparkled although

the sun was barely out that morning. When I got closer, I saw that it was a locket. I gently

wiped the sand from the top of the oval pendant. There was a cross engraved on the front

with a tiny diamond in its center. It was beautiful, and I knew that someone must have

really been missing it.

When I opened it, a small piece of paper fell to the ground. I bent over, picked it

up, and read:

Blessings often come from loss, because it is loss that forces thanksgiving.

These words offered me a sense peace. I went home and made a list of everything

that I was thankful for, right down to the shoes on my feet. Within a week, I was offered

a job at the local college teaching art classes. The pay was more than I had ever hoped for

myself. I do not believe that I would have ever been bold enough to take a step passed

failure if I had not dug up that locket and read those words.

Now I find myself walking along those very same beaches thinking, not of what I

need or desire out of life, but what I have and love about life.

The Kinisey File

Okay, so I am a stock boy at the University in Baton Rouge. My job pretty much

consists of putting up, sorting, and cataloging books and files. Most days are

monotonous, but sometimes it gets interesting. But none of which were ever as incredible

as the day that I happened upon the file.

I was tasked the file room. It is unbelievably boring. I have only done it once

before, but I would not wish work up there for my worst enemy. First of all, I can never

find anything in that room. I had to take a double look when my boss gave me a list of

over forty files to pull. I simply rolled my eyes, put on my big boy face, and got to work.

After successfully finding about 11 files, I noticed that one file was sticking out

just a little further from the rest. It was more of a yellowish color too. For some reason it

caught my attention, enough to pull it out and look. I wiped some dust off, and I saw that

the file had some writing on it. It was in thick bold cursive letters that said The Kinisey

File.

I slowly opened the file, half expecting someone to jump out from behind the

shelves and yell, “Get back to work!” I looked around and saw no one, so I decided that it

would not hurt to take a little peek. I took a seat in an old foldout chair that was propped

up against the shelf. Somehow, I knew that this was going to demand more than just a

few minutes.

The first thing that I saw when I opened it was a picture of a young woman with

long curly hair. She had it pulled back in a ponytail. I also noticed that she had a tag on

her shirt in the photo; she was a journalist. I read a little bit further and found out the

woman’s name was Ruth Kinisey. She had been a new reporter for a newspaper. I could

not tell which one though. A black permanent marker crossed out the name of the

newspaper. This confused me, but it only heightened my intrigue.

I read the entire file from cover to cover, and I could barely believe what it said:

I, Miss Ruth Kinisey, am writing this in the event that I do not return. I

came to Corinth, Louisiana in July of 1998 to report on a story about a man

named Immanuel Givens. This was my first assignment.

I am unable to tell every detail of my encounter due to time limitation. But

I will tell everything I can.

My boss sent me to Corinth to prove that the story about people going

missing there was illegitimate. Unfortunately, when I got there I saw that there

were valid witnesses and proof that people were vanishing. I know that it seems

bold to make such accusations, but I am as sure as I am standing here that

something really is wrong in Corinth.

There were stories from UFO’s to Revelations floating around, but I was

determined to find out the truth. My first interview with Immanuel Givens was

strange. I sat down and asked him a series of questions of what he thought was

happening in Corinth, and how did he play a part in it? He answered every

question with another question. After a while, I just gave up. When I stood up to

leave, he said, “Will you come to church Sunday?” I knew that I did not want to,

but I was hoping that he would tell me more if I went along.

“Sure,” I replied.

I spent the next two days interviewing everyone I could find. Each one

said the same thing, “They just disappeared right in front of us.” I was growing

more suspicious about these people. I was beginning to think that maybe there

was something biologically wrong here, or that this was some massive scheme to

get noticed. Either way, I did not drink the water.

One night while I was eating at the diner downtown, I saw Immanuel

come in. Immediately, people began to clear out. The ones that dared to stay were

quiet and seemingly fearful. I could not help but wonder why everyone was afraid

of him. He was just a weird, old man from everything I could see. He approached

my table.

“May I join you?” he asked.

“Of course,” I replied.

He then looked at the other customers in the diner and waved his hands, as

if to wave them away. They obediently stood up, left their food and things, and

walked out. Everyone left, including the staff. My stomach rolled with anxiety as

I tried to brace myself with what he was about to say.

“I’m sorry about what happened to you when you were nine,” he stated.

I thought back for a moment, and then I remembered that I had just turned

nine when a pastor at my church touched me. We were at youth camp.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied.

“The devil comes in many forms, child. Unfortunately, he uses people

who are in trustworthy positions to rob, steal, and destroy. Is that not what he did

to you? Did he not rob, steal, and destroy your innocence?” His words were bold

but sympathetic.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Did you know that you’ve been carrying around this in your heart all this

time? That one event has changed your course in life. What about the year that

you had an affair with a married man only to get yourself a job?”

Shocked, embarrassed, and shamefully I asked, “How do you know all

this?

“That is not what is important. What’s important is that you were created

for more than this, and you will soon find out what your purpose is,” he said. He

then stood up and walked out.

I was then gasping for understanding. I had no idea what had just

happened, but I knew that this was a clue.

The next day I went to church as I had promised Mr. Givens. I was

nervous to say the least, but I was thirsty to find out more. After a few minutes, he

stood up in front of the crowd and said, “Today is a day of purpose. You were

created for more.” He walked towards me and caressed his hand against my face

and whispered, “Today you will find your purpose. Today is the beginning.”

After reading these words, my mind began to soar. I wondered what happened to

Ruth and why she did not write any more. Why didn’t she answer the mystery of the

town? I ran downstairs and searched through old newspaper articles to see if I could find

anything out about Corinth or Ruth. There was nothing. I asked around to see if anyone

had ever even heard of Corinth. No one had. I left work early that day and went home to

search the internet for anything I could find out about the place. All I could find was the

directions and that the population was only a few hundred people. I made arrangements

to go there the next day.

I wanted to know what happened to Ruth. I wanted to know if those people really

did go missing, and if they did, where did they go? Questions flooded my mind, but I

most importantly wanted to know my purpose.

When I drove up to downtown Corinth, I imagined Ruth walking in these streets,

eating at the diner, and searching for answers just as I am today. Then I saw the church,

the only church. One door was propped open, and I cautiously walked inside. There was a

man sitting on the first pew.

“Can I help you, son?” he asked.

“I’m looking for Immanuel Givens?” I asked him.

“You’re looking at him. How can I help you?” he asked again.

Suddenly all the other questions disappeared.

“I need to find my purpose,” I said humbly.

He smiled.

G.A.

“I can’t believe that I got stuck with some old geezer and you got a NFL

quarterback. That’s so unfair,” I said to Charlie. His face was gleaming with pride.

“Well, this is how a teacher’s pet benefits. You reap what you sow, man,” he

replied with a grin that made me roll my eyes in disgust.

This morning was the most anticipated day of school. After all the centuries of

guardian training, we were finally going to see to whom we were assigned. I, of course,

got assigned to a 72-year-old man. There was nothing exciting about that. What was I

going to guard him from, his upcoming death? No. That is not something we can do

anything about anyway (just so you know).

Anyway, about three hundred years ago I was slacking on the internship duties

that were assigned to me. I took it upon myself to create some pretty funny instances

where people needed saving. Needless to say, I got in some trouble, and it has been

haunting me ever since.

Being a guardian angel can be boring at times, especially when you get assigned

to someone who barely leaves his house. George McAllen has a very uninteresting life.

He is retired, he has no hobbies besides television, and he lives alone. His wife died about

three years ago, and he has been reclusive since then. He is in relatively good health, but

he is quite lonely.

After I made peace with the fact that, I was not ever going to get Michael to give

me someone else, I put on my robe and headed to 312 Mockingbird Ct. When I arrived, I

noticed that George was still in bed. I thought that to be odd since it was three o’clock in

the afternoon. I wondered if he was sick. I ran my hands over his body that lay limp on

the featherbed, but I found nothing. He was not sick. He was sad. It was then that I

realized that I had my work cut out for me.

Depression causes a person to do some extreme things sometimes, which makes

my job more exciting. But somehow I knew that George was not going to be one to do

anything thoughtless.

I stood in the corner waiting for him to move for hours until he finally decided to

get up. He slipped his dark blue slippers on his wrinkly feet, and he walked to the

bathroom. It was then that I thanked God for potty breaks. I could tell that he was going

to be in there for a while, so I decided to take off back to Heaven for a little break.

I could not find anyone in the guardian mansion. I knew that everyone was

supposed to be on earth protecting their assignments, but I thought there would at least be

one other angel here that also got a boring task. As I tried to sneak out of the front door to

go back to 312 Mockingbird Ct, there he was. His massive wings kept me from being

able to fly away. He had me trapped inside a dome of feathers.

“What are you doing here, Micah?” Michael, the teacher and Archangel, asked.

“Umm… nothing…” I muttered.

“Did you not understand that no one is allowed to leave their human?”

“I understood, but he’s just so boring,” I whined.

“I should have known that you’d be a problem, but not for long. I am clipping

your wings. You will not be able to come back here until your wings have completely

matured again. I will escort you back to earth myself.” With those words in an instant,

what used to be my wings were now nubs on my back.

There was no time to argue or plead. His mind was made up, and he carried me

back to George’s house. I was panicking at the thought of not being able to get back to

Heaven if I needed to. I did not like the idea of being here alone for two years. Two years

is too long, and my wings will take at least that to grow back.

After a while, I came to accept my lot and just make the best of things. Sometimes

I would still have my fun by messing with George a little. One time he tripped on a shoe

that he had left in the floor, and I planted his couch cushion right under him. You should

have seen the confusion in his face when he saw the couch cushion under him and not on

the couch. It was priceless. There was another time that he dropped his toothbrush onto

the floor, but before he could bend down and pick it up, he noticed that it had only fallen

in the sink. That was me, of course. He likely would have fallen if he had tried to bend

down. And recently he had a man from the electric company come to tell him that his

power would be turned off the next day if the bill was not paid. Then when George went

out to check the mail that day, he received $150 check from some insurance that he had

overpaid. Me again.

Everything I did for George never went unnoticed by him, which was rare. Most

humans believe in coincidence and not divine intervention, but not George. He started

thanking me for the things he thought I done. He called me G.A. (guardian angel). He

thanked me for helping him not fall out of the shower and for making the sidewalk less

slippery in the winter. I began to feel really special and needed.

I especially loved when he prayed he thanked the Lord for me. I had only met

Him a few times, but I knew that they would be pleased hearing George being thankful

for me. I would not be here if it were not for Him caring so much about His children. I

began to grow love for George. He was a good ol’ guy. Sometimes he would talk to me,

tell me jokes, and I would listen all along. We became friends, although we had never

actually met.

One year to the day that I came to 312 Mockingbird Ct. George died. It was

peaceful and serene. He just went to sleep and did not wake up. I knew that if it were

possible for angels to cry, I would. I did not know what to do after he passed so I just

waited in the corner. I felt this unbelievable sadness that I had never felt before. My heart

was broken for George. I was going to miss him.

Four hours after George’s house was cleared of people, Michael came to me.

“Come with me, Micah. It is time to come home,” he said as he lifted me.

Heaven seemed different when I returned. It had been almost a year. I know now

that it was not that Heaven was different, it was I that was different. George had put a

love in my heart that I never had.

I spent two weeks waiting to be reassigned when Michael came to my room.

“Someone wants to meet you. Come with me,” he said.

Within minutes, we were at a mansion that I had never been before. It was the

largest one that I had ever seen. It was the house of the Lord.

“Come and break bread with us, Micah. We have someone we want you to meet,”

the Lord said as he escorted me in.

That is when I saw George, but he looked different. He seemed happy, healthy,

and thirty years younger. I was elated.

“George! It’s you!” I yelled. Then I remembered that he had never seen me. I felt

embarrassed that I had not thought of that before.

“Hello, G.A.”

I gasped. I could not believe that he had known who I was.

“You know who I am?” I asked him.

“I would know you anywhere, my friend.” He smiled and reached out for my

hand. I placed mine in his and for the first time I felt warmth.

“My name is Micah, but you can call me G.A.,” I finally said.

We both smiled.

That afternoon the Lord, George, and I broke bread together while we sat in a

beautiful mansion in the sky.

Remnants

Never did I think that I would be back here at my granny’s house. She sold it

years ago, but since she’s passed I’ve had a longing to return. Me, thinking that I could be

sly, decided to drive out there and take a photo for memory sake. I pull the car to the edge

of the property and try to sneak a photo without being noticed. To no avail. An old,

poorly dressed man comes hobbling down the driveway.

“What you doin’ out here? Why you takin’ a picture of my house?” he yelled

angrily.

I paused. I thought about getting out, but decided that was no an option.

“This used to be my granny’s house,” I yelled.

“Who’s yo’ granny?”

“Mrs. Brown,” I answered.

He invited me in, asked about my dear granny which he knew. I went on to tell

him about her passing. He and his wife gave me their condolences. I caught a glance of

something hanging beside the front door. It was like I was having déjà vu.

“You be a good girl now,” Granny said pointing at the plaque beside the door of

the 10 Commandments.

I smiled.

“Where did y’all get that plaque there?” I asked the old man.

“Oh, that’s how I knew this was the house for us. Your granny had one just like it

right there in that same spot. We had one too. When I first came in this house, that plaque

was like a sign that this was the one. So I hung mine right where she had hers,” the man’s

wife answered.

I could hear my granny tell me to be good all over again. It felt nice to know that

remnants of her were still around.