Chapter 7
Mending Body & Soul
Irish and Grace moved hurriedly out onto the evening street. It was hot and dusty, and the smell of hot concrete seeped up from their feet; nothing was comfortable.
Irish turned to Grace, "We've had quite a day. Do you want to stop for a bit, maybe practice sleeping or keep walking?"
Grace looked surprised at her question, "What do you mean keep walking? I told you before I feel icky. I don't especially want to sleep, well, maybe, that thing they call a nap, but I definitely want a swim, a bath, and a shower. Whatever they call it. Like Boo Boo and I got, all soapy and lots of water."
Irish smiled and pointed to the flashing lights of the Truckers All Night Motel several blocks from the station. Irish wondered what L.A. was up to. He always stirred up humans to do crazy things. She crossed her fingers and hoped nothing would happen tonight.
As they continued toward the motel, there were catcalls from various allies where the homeless hung out, "Hey, little girl, want some candy?"
Grace asked Irish, "I'm missing something. His voice doesn't sound righteous, but he's offering to give us candy? As Pretzel would say, 'What's up with that?'"
Irish noticed her slang and answered, "Some things are just not what they seem. Always go with your inner instincts, regardless what humans sound or look like. Don't believe what you hear or see, unless your know within your spirit it's true."
"That sounds a little cruel. Don't give anyone the benefit of the doubt?" asked Grace, getting confused.
"Not cruel, just smart. Our wisdom guides us into all truth. No one gets the benefit of the doubt unless our Father tells you it’s okay." Irish realized that she sounded rather cynical concerning humans, but she wanted to teach Grace that although humans have a wonderful capacity for love and affection that they can also be inhumane and unloving.
The motel's flashing, neon lights interrupted the night, and Irish noticed a number of motorcycles lined up in the parking lot by the hotel rooms.
Grace asked, "What are those?"
Irish responded, "Motorcycles. What's important is not what they are, but who rides them. They can be trouble. Just the ones L.A. might stir up. I just hope it's not tonight."
Irish was actually feeling a little fatigued, something unusual for an angel. She took off her straw hat and tucked her hair behind her ears, which gave her a charming, childish look.
"Do you have any rooms?" she asked the night clerk. He didn't move from his swivel chair but pushed the registration book towards them with a pool stick from five feet away.
"Yep! You got the cash. I got the rooms. What kind of room do you two need?" The night clerk finally got close enough to the front desk while still sitting in his chair.
"Just one near the pool with a king-size bed and extra towels." Irish wanted to recreate her swim addiction if possible.
"Lady, the pool just opened today, your luck. I should've said I got a room, only one left, a suite on the first floor, but it cost $110 a night, especially with extra towels."
"A suite, a little extravagant, but we'll take it," she answered.
Luckily, they were far from the bike gang; and once they made it to their room, Grace went to check out the shower. Irish created a soft, summer-white dress for the pool.
A minute later, Grace screamed loudly in a cold shock, "How do I change the temperature?"
Irish spoke distinctly from outside her bathroom door like speaking to a small child hard of hearing, "Turn it to the left—is cold—and to the right—is hot—but move out of the shower first to adjust it to how you want it, then get in. Do you understand, Grace? Is there any part of what I said that you don't understand?"
The only answer from Grace as she attempted to get out of the shower was, "Oh, okay," then Irish heard her slip on the bathroom floor with a loud exclamation of surprise that sounded much like Sister Gloria, "Oh, Lordy!"
"You okay, Grace?" asked Irish with her face in her hands while hiding her laughter.
Grace only mumbled a small but definite, "Oh, okay."
Irish hollered over her shoulder as she was leaving, "Gone for a swim! Don’t forget that the water heater only has so much hot water!"
Irish heard, "What’s a water heater?" just before the door shut. She figured that Grace would find out soon enough and strolled out to the pool. The motel manager was right, lucky her, the pool had just been cleaned and filled today. Even the chlorine levels weren't disturbed from kids’ accidents. Irish counted her blessings and thought the pool looked to be the better part of this motel. She sat on the pool edge dangling her feet in the water while enjoying the wet coolness.
"What are you going to do, lady? Jump in with your clothes on?" asked a voice from someone walking up behind her.
Irish was startled but replied simply enough, "Maybe, possibly, thinking about it. Actually, it's not a bad idea," then turned to see a state trooper coming towards her.
"Aren't you a little off your beaten track?" asked Irish, not sure what he wanted. She remembered saying to Grace, "Everything is not the way it seems," and she thought of his appearance as an interruption, an incidental encounter, nothing more.
"Not really. Got a complaint about the bikers. Hoping, they'd quiet down without having to interrupt them. Thought I’d walk around the place a bit and give them time to settle down. Doesn't look like it, though. Getting a little rowdy, and the music is starting to keep some neighbors awake. Sound travels long ways around these parts. Local police are in bed so they call me in off the speed traps when they need me. I don't mind since the local police tend to be a little too tightly strung, if you know what I mean."
The trooper took off his broad-brimmed hat and threw it beside Irish, then sat down beside her. She was a little surprised but still shrugged it off as only a little invasion of her privacy, till he jerked his boots and socks off, then swished his feet in the water too.
By accident, his foot touched one of hers and a shock went through both of them. To Irish, there was a keen awareness that this man was very sick, a malignant sickness. Her whole body ached when she felt it. To the trooper, it was because he got a big dose of peace and well being. He'd never felt this way in his life.
"Do you always work this late shift?" asked Irish while looking inquisitively into his eyes. She wanted to see if she could understand more about this man carrying such a death sentence in him.
"No, but lately, I seem to crave it. Kind of a way to be alone. Been liking that, lately. Like time to think. I just like time, never seems to be enough of it." He hung his head and rubbed at the back of his head like he was trying to feel something. He thought to himself, "Yep! Still there."
Irish leaned back on her elbows and looked at the stars when she received a message. It was awkward, but she pretended to stretch to the sky with her hand involuntarily turned palm upward like reaching for an apple on a tall tree.
The Lord spoke plainly, "Andy, is your new assignment. He has a little girl named Mandy, five, and his wife, Jewel. He hasn't seen much of them lately, not since he was diagnosed with brain cancer. He hasn't told them. He's going into the hospital in Albuquerque tomorrow morning, but he told them that he was going to see his mother for a couple days. They don't have a clue. His wife and Mandy are believers, but he's not. He needs Me now more than ever. He needs his healing too."
Irish arched her back and pretended to keep stretching, then realized that her movements were bothering Andy. His eyes were fixed on her. She reached down into the pool and splashed water up at him.
"Hey, what's that all about?" he was startled and blushed, thinking she noticed him watching her.
"You looked a little distant, 'spacey.' Thinking about your family?" Irish was throwing him a soft, curve ball to get him back to earth.
It was cold water on his imagination, but it worked. "No, but maybe I should've been. Haven't seen too much of them, lately. Been working too hard at this shift work."
&n
bsp; He felt completely comfortable with Irish as if he'd known her all his life. He had to talk to someone, and this pretty lady was as good as it gets. He just wanted to be near another human being. He wanted them to listen and help him sort through things without messing with him.
It was Irish's turn to watch him this time. She noticed how attractive he was. He was still in his thirties and at least six-two with natural-curly, brown hair that gave him an exceptional childlike look.
"What made you take this job anyway? Just like giving tickets?" she kidded at him.
Andy laughed, "Well, can't let the local boys have all the fun, can we? Anyway, you wouldn't believe how many people get stranded out here. It feels good to help. My wife always says I have a tender heart. She says I'd be out here helping people whether I was a trooper or not. Having a badge just makes it easier, and I get paid for it. Why are you out here alone? Your family packed away in the motel on one of those cross-country junkets, right? Got three kids, a Ford Station Wagon, a big dog, and you let your hubby do all the driving, right?"
"Some of that. Try me with my little girl, Grace, about ten, just heading to Albuquerque tomorrow. Been walking mostly, though we did hitch a ride on a bus days ago and caught a train ride earlier today."
"What do you mean you've been walking? The two of you walking? Are you crazy? Or, do you have a guardian angel as big as the Empire State Building? I've never heard of anything so stupid!" He was aghast at the thought.
"Well, does seem strange, but we get to meet the most interesting people, like you. As far as a guardian angel, I'd probably need more than one to keep us out of trouble," she said as she smiled at him.
He took on a fatherly tone with her, "I'm not going to have it! I'm going to Albuquerque tomorrow, and you two are going with me, and that's that!"
He folded his arms on his chest at that proclamation and waited for her refusal, and then heard her whisper, "Okay."
"You're kidding, you will?" He was surprised and pleased.
"Of course," answered Irish, "as long, as you tell me the real reason that you're going to Albuquerque tomorrow." She was still trying to get him to open up.
Andy looked at her, then felt as if he was being lulled into a therapeutic conversation, "I'm sick they say. I know I am. I can feel my head swimming, and I lose my balance every once in awhile. It's in my head. Got to have it taken out. They said I got a sixty-forty chance, forty percent I'll survive it in one piece; but I know, whether I survive it or not, I won't live long. Some things you just know. That I know." Several tears crept down his face. He brushed them off and scooped up a handful of water while pretending to wash off the evening sweat.
"Sounds, a little pessimistic to me. Most people would be running around trying to find a doctor to guarantee better odds or a preacher at a healing, prayer line." Irish fondled the cross around her neck while waiting for a reaction.
"Wow, you could be my wife, Jewel, with that line. She's one of those born-again people. She even got my little girl to go that route. In fact, little Mandy just got baptized a month ago, go figure." He shook his head and felt the heat of his own conviction rising up in him.
"You didn't like it when she gave her life to the Lord, did you?" Irish let it hang just to see his response.
"Well," he responded sheepishly, "I just never depended on anyone but myself. I'm sure they needed to go that way, but that's for the weak, not someone like me. Not for someone who stands on his own two legs and makes it on his own, not for me." He sat straight up, and his face lifted upward a little.
"I see. You look like you're a little out of your league, now. You've already admitted you aren't going to make it on your own, are you?" Irish tenderly placed her hand on his arm. She wanted him to know she wasn't judging him, only talking. Her touch sent a wave of peace over him. What he wouldn't give to feel this way all the time, and Irish sensed it.
"I guess you're right. I'm not. I already said that, didn't I? Well, what does a guy like me do when he comes up against that kind of solid wall? It's so final. Nothing, I guess."
"What would Jewel say?" she asked, still keeping her hand on his arm.
"She'd want to get me saved. Oh boy! Would she! You’re right. She’d probably want me to find one of those prayer lines," he spoke with a quivering voice, not looking at Irish this time but away from her. He was having trouble keeping his composure.
"So what's the problem? If you admit you can't handle it, isn't it about time to give Jewel's way a try? What do you have to lose? It seems to me that being on the same team as your family might be a lot more fun than isolating yourself on the night shift, hiding and escaping. They don't know yet, do they?"
Andy turned dramatically while staring directly at her, "What are you some kind of seer?"
"No, I just feel like you're acting like a young man trying to carry the full load. You've been doing it all your life, so why change now. You might even be acting like a man who's afraid what your family will say, which is exactly what I'm saying."
He flung her hand from his arm, and the peace left him immediately. He regretted it, but knew Irish was right. He'd been carrying the whole load like he was some kind of hero. It was the final brave act of an incredibly courageous man trying to save his family from the horror of his own death. It was a cop-out, and he felt he had ended up an incredibly stupid man acting like a coward. He was running from his family because he didn't want them to talk to him about the Lord, just like Irish was doing.
"This wasn't a chance meeting, was it?" he asked while staring at Irish, then put his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes wearily.
"God things seldom are?" she replied as she put her hand back on his arm, and the peace returned. "I'm just the right person at the right time, or you may say the wrong time. But, let's face it; I was going for a dip with my clothes on minutes ago, now I'm talking to you about the Lord. Seems to me that you're the one who started this. We can't do it on our own, Andy. It may have taken a bad thing like this to make you realize it."
Andy spouted back, "But, isn’t God in charge? Why couldn't He have stopped this from happening?" He felt himself getting angry and smoldering with resentment. The real truth was coming out.
"I'm amazed at those blaming God for bad things when it's Apollyon who does it."
"Who's Apollyon, a Greek god?" he asked sarcastically.
"Close, it's the Greek name for Satan. Everyone I know calls him that. Just a Greek preference, I guess."
"But God could have stopped him," he rebutted. He was running out of ammunition almost hoping the conversation would end, and then at the same time, not wanting it to, hoping for an answer.
He thought, "Where did this lady get so many answers?"
"If it had been your wife and daughter, He just might have by now, but you’re out there all by yourself, aren't you? You've left yourself wide open for this kind of thing. Apollyon is having a heyday with you." She knew this was hard for him to stomach, but she felt she was real close to getting through to him.
"So, if I was a born again believer, I'd never have anything bad happen? That's sounds silly," he got more sarcastic.
"It is silly. All humans have problems, but believers have protection and recourse from God. What tries to kill believers, just hurts them. What tries to destroy them fails. There are those bad things that just don't match up to that, and only the grace of God has it figured out, but what if you were part of the answer? What if God really doesn't want you to have this cancer, but you've already given up? What if God would do for you just like He does for so many other believers and heal you? Are you ready to give up on the cure because you decided to die alone? How brave of you. How courageous and honorable!" Irish shook her finger at him, "How stupid!"
"Hey lady, you're really pushing it. I've never met you in my life, and you just called me stupid." Then he said, "I'm sorry, you're probably right," he looked like someone had dropped a truck him—the Irish truck. "I'll think about it, but I'm still up
for offering a ride; although I think you two are crazy for traveling by yourselves. I think I called you stupid earlier, didn't I?"
"Don't worry, Andy. We’ve got lots of help," she answered as she stood up looking down into the pool water.
"I suppose, after your God talk that you’re going to tell me you have an army of angels watching over you."
He laughed and heard a little girl behind him say, "Over a thousand."
Irish smiled and dived into the pool fully clothed. She knew she had made headway with Andy. Now, she was going to enjoy leaving her own sweaty icky-ness behind even through her clothes.
"You must be Grace," commented Andy as surprised by her appearance as Irish’s clothed dive. He looked at Grace seeing her pigtails adorned with two, new, red bows. He also noticed her t-shirt was on inside out with the tag in the front. "Man," he thought, "this girl needs help."
Irish slowly got out with her hair clinging to the sides of her face, and her white dress clinging to her skin, like skin itself. Since it was dark, she thought her clothes dry, figuring no one noticed. Andy did, having found himself intoxicated with watching her get out and the way she toweled off her face and arms while pushing her wet hair behind her ears. He didn't miss any of her moves, only noticing her, but not how fast the clothes dried.
"Better not let Aaron catch you looking at her like that," spoke Grace, embarrassing him so much he ducked his head.
"Her big brother?" was his only come back.
"Real, real, big brother," said Grace, and she skipped over to Irish whispering, "I heard the message. Is that the guy? Did you do any good?"
She whispered back, "Some. I’ll bet he won't sleep tonight. Even if he does, he'll probably dream about it all night. He can't escape the truth."
"Why don't you walk us back," suggested Irish, watching Andy pulling on his boots without socks and sticking his socks in his back pocket, then rushing to her side. She put her arm in his and allowed him the lead while she pointed to the room nearby.
"Oh, the suite, how fancy," he remarked mockingly.
"Not fancy, just the only one left, lucky us," she replied.
Just then, some hundred feet in front of her room on the other side of the motel, gun shots rang out like fire crackers over the party sounds of the bikers. Screams and shouts broke out mixed with bikes revving up, then racing away. Andy pulled out his sidearm; and with the girls following, he ran out into the front parking lot in sight of the bikers’ rooms. Two bikers were in an all-out brawl but immediately stopped when they saw Andy coming. Everyone scattered, except for a couple of black-leather-clad men, sitting on their bikes smoking joints with their girlfriends sitting behind them, just spectators.
Andy stood quietly, not saying anything for several minutes. He noticed there were no bodies, guns, or blood. He defused, and put his handgun back into his holster as he approached one of the watching bikers.
He placed his hands on the nearest handlebars announcing, "Don’t go anywhere, either one of you. You have some questions to answer. Who fired the shots and at whom? Put those joints away, now! I don’t have the time or energy to haul any of you in for possession!"
The two couples seemed oblivious to Andy. He was just part of a large illusionary movie taking place in front of them. Still, the girls got off their friend’s bikes and staggered off to the side, then sat against some roof support posts carrying the joints with them. They both saw Irish coming up behind Andy.
There was an instant feminine reaction of comparisons: jealousy, envy, and embarrassment. Irish was just too pretty—they weren’t. They started brushing themselves off, wiping their faces with their sleeves, and one pulled a plastic comb from her back-jean pocket and pulled it painfully through her hair.
Their biker friends couldn't keep their eyes off Irish and stammered, "Yes, officer, it was a couple of out-of-towners. Never seen them before."
Irish thought she saw a glimpse of a small shadow near the end of the building. "L.A.," she thought, "anything could happened now." Grace heard it, and Irish sent a message to her small hundred to be ready for anything.
The girl bikers hedged back nearer the bikes, not wanting to let their men get too sidetracked with Irish, and a jealous rage erupted, an L.A. rage. One girl picked up a nearby two-by-four; and before anyone could say a word, she rushed Irish and tried to bash her face in. Irish spun directly into the girl’s onslaught and caught the board in mid air in one hand, then threw it at her feet. She didn't miss the other girl advancing from the other side, but both girls were slightly interrupted by the bikes revving their engines. Andy now had hold of one handlebar of each bike, and they began pushing him backwards. Irish turned to the final attacking girl and punched her in the face with a slight uppercut. She hit her so hard that she was picked up and thrust into the bushes beside the motel room. The other girl ran behind her boyfriend, jumped on the back of his bike while her nose-bleeding friend staggered towards the back of other bike.
"Run them over!" the bleeding girl screamed. "Run them over! Kill them!"
There was a moment when Grace realized how serious this was getting, and she ran over and picked up the two-by-four for herself. Andy was caught between the two bikers as they continued to push him back towards some parked cars. He decided to move back out of their reach before he drew his gun. He didn't want to kill anyone, especially with the reports that would tie him up well beyond his surgery time. He just wanted them to leave.
"Settle down guys and no one will get hurt," he replied, and he fumbled at his holster, not able to get to it as quickly as he liked.
"You started it, pig! And, we're going to end it!"
Andy fell back to where Grace and Irish were standing, saying, "Fall back, I'll handle this."
"Andy, this isn't your fight, it's ours," she announced as she made the final call to her army.
The bikers let Andy move away, then raced towards them and pulled out large chains while swinging them over their heads. Andy pushed Irish and Grace out of the way when finally able to pull out his gun. L.A.’s work was perfect because they didn't care, and their rage pushed them beyond logic and common sense.
Suddenly, the front of each bike crashed into the pavement. The front tires were severed from top to bottom. The extent of the severing was coupled with the screeching metal on concrete that let Irish know her angels used battle (long) swords, which they have must borrowed from the others with them. She and Grace saw them, though no else did: one on each side of the front of each bike with angels holding the handlebars while another two on either side were near the back wheels preparing to make other vicious cuts. The bikers with their rides were thrown forward headfirst from the abrupt stop with their handlebar gages making deep imprints on their chests. They screamed and watched as their bikes fell apart. The remaining angels swung their swords down on the back wheels causing only the frames of the bikes to clatter to the pavement that sent all four tumbling in a flaying roll while bike parts falling to the ground around them. The angels continued dismantling the bikes into small pieces, just for fun, as everyone watched. It was as if their bikes were being demolished by ghosts. Horrified, the bikers stumbled away with only scrapes and bruises, not wanting any part of whatever was happening.
"Your fight?" asked Andy. "Is this what you call, your fight? Why? Who are you?"
"I'm Irish. What I am is for you to figure out. I told you I have lots of help. Your fight is tomorrow. You can do it alone, or you can surrender it to the Lord. That's your big battle, not a skirmish with a bunch of road idiots. See you about 'sevenish' tomorrow morning out front."
Irish turned with Grace, walked briskly to their room, and left Andy standing in the middle of the parking lot looking down at two bikes in hundreds of little pieces, saying only to himself, "Wow!"
Grace turned to Irish, "L.A.'s work, huh?"
"No doubt. I think I saw him. Did you pick up on it?" asked Irish.
"Yeah, but I didn't think he’d go to work qui
te this fast," said Grace as she entered the room.
The bathroom was soaking wet covered with suds as well as the walls of the room. Grace had decided she liked Boo Boo’s way better than the towels.
Irish shook her head while blocking her thoughts, "This girl needs a lot of improvement. This is going to be one long trip."
"Procrastination is a human trait, not one of ours or God's. L.A. is on a mission, no sense in fooling around about it. We need to expect more. We'll just keep meeting the bears as they come out of the woods, one at a time."
Grace pulled up the blinds, not seeing either bears or woods. She blocked her thoughts this time, "Irish has spent too much time with humans."
Grace sacked-out and practiced her nap while Irish spent the night communing with God on Andy's behalf. She asked the Lord to not let him sleep and to keep him remembering her words.
Early in the morning she woke Grace, "I need you to get a message to Jewel and Mandy. You know what to do. How you do it is up to you. I want L.A. and Apollyon bound from causing trouble until after, at least, noon tomorrow. Isn’t binding part of inherited Heaven 101? I also want his family to come to the hospital by ten o'clock this morning. Do a good job as with Jim's family."
Grace rubbed her eyes and yawned, accompanied by the appropriate sounds and asked, "What was that I just did?"
"It's called a yawn. You're picking up fast on human habits. Keep up the good work," Irish complimented.
Grace arrived in Mandy’s room first. She went directly to a child's room before, and it seemed to work better than approaching adults head-on so she repeated it. It seemed that children saw her even when she couldn't be seen by others. She knew that children had the eyes of heaven. It had to do with the simplicity of their faith and understanding. Adults had too much baggage, too many preconceived ideas on how angels should be, too much thinking, she thought.
Mandy was sound asleep so Grace put her hand on her forehead and entered her dreams. Grace took her to heaven and showed her how beautiful it was. She showed her the crystal-clear water from the river of life reflecting the myriad of heaven’s marvelous colors. They walked through heaven's meadows covered with every imaginable flower. They'd step on several, and they'd spring back just as before. No death or injury existed here. She took her to one of the trees of life and shared with her one of her favorite leaves. They walked and floated hand in hand through several of heaven's gates made of gigantic pearls. They watched the saved being received and transformed into immortals.
Finally, she said to Mandy, "Mandy, your daddy needs you. Go tell your mom to go to Memorial Hospital in Albuquerque. Be there by ten o'clock and don't be late. Your daddy needs you. Bring the bottle of healing oil the pastor gave your mom."
Grace became unseen and waited as Mandy woke. Mandy looked around the room and at her bed where a white lily was now laying beside her. "Mommy, Mommy, I saw heaven, Mommy!" Before she could get up, her mother came running into the room. As Jewel entered, she felt a tingling all over. Her skin was electric, and she also felt a great sense of peace.
"Oh baby," she said, not seeing the lily yet, "it was just a dream. Do you want to sleep with me tonight? Daddy might come home before he goes to visit his mom. I'll have him put you back into bed when he comes in."
"No, he’s not going to his mom’s," said Mandy with tears in her eyes. "In my dream, an angel told us to go to Albuquerque by ten o'clock today and bring the oil the preacher gave us for when we get sick. Look Mommy, the angel left a flower."
Mandy waved the white lily, picked from one of heaven's covered fields in her mother's face. Jewel grabbed it and looked around, not seeing anyone or anything. She didn't know what to say.
"Mommy, the angel said that Daddy needs me," her voice was pathetic and beckoning.
Jewel didn't understand why, but she believed her. Andy hadn't been himself lately. Jewel had witnessed a lot to him about giving his life to the Lord. She thought she may have done it too much and was driving him away. She continued to pray for him, and the pastor told her to let the Holy Spirit do the work, just keep praying.
"You know, Albuquerque is a long trip. Maybe, that part of it was just a dream." Jewel felt that electric chill all over her body, and it overwhelmed her. She saw the smile on Mandy's face, and then turned to see Grace standing behind her.
"Don't be afraid. I'm an angel of the Most High God. Mandy's right, you need to go to Albuquerque Memorial Hospital tomorrow. I was afraid you might not go from just her dream, but it was worth a shot. Next time, maybe you will." Grace still radiated with a white light from her visit to heaven. She didn't have the glorious rainbow colors like Irish, but she let heaven break forth from her as it filled the whole room.
"Is Andy okay? Is he okay? What's wrong?" In spite of the peace, there was a certain urgency and panic in her voice. She couldn't imagine why an angel would need to come to talk about Andy, unless it was important, real important.
"Peace," said Grace, and peace moved through the room quelling their fears and bringing both Mandy and Jewel to a place of rest in the palm of God.
"That depends. You've been praying for his salvation for two years. He needs to come to the Lord tomorrow. I want you to let me and Mandy lay hands on him for his healing, or he'll die tomorrow without the Lord."
"Heal him, from what? What's wrong with him?" She felt like she was being crushed. "What could be so wrong with him that he would die? What's going on?"
"Don't sleep, I don't think you will anyway. Pray and seek God to press him to give his life to Him. Don't pray for yourself. It's Andy who needs the prayers. Both of you pray and intercess. Wake your pastor and have him wake the church. I'll show myself to him so he'll pull the church together for you. No one goes to work. No one goes to school. Every child, grownup, and believer shall stay on their knees until they hear from you. God will anoint you all with a great burden that will burn its way into your innermost souls. You all will feel like your hearts are breaking, especially you. When you call your church friends from the hospital tomorrow, the burden will lift. Do this, for thus sayeth the Lord of Hosts." Grace disappeared, and Jewel quickly called her pastor at five in the morning.
"Hello. Yes, this is Pastor Tim. Jewel, is everything okay? Why are you crying? What's wrong?" He was having trouble speaking through his sleepiness.
Jewel tried to explain, and after several tries, he got the message. "But what you're asking is very difficult. I have meetings this morning with the vestry, and I just can't ask everyone to stop what they're doing to pray. Are you sure this wasn't your imagination?"
The pastor was sitting up now on the edge of his bed, and his wife got up to fix some instant coffee. Something was wrong; and in her spirit, she knew it was very serious, although she didn't know what.
As she got some coffee for herself, Grace was sitting on a tall barstool in her kitchen and said, "I've never had coffee before. Do you mind if I try it?"
Patty screamed almost knocking her coffee cup off the counter. Grace extended her wings, and they fell around her and the barstool while draping the floor. Patty shook all over and didn't say a word. Grace pulled her wings back into herself. She got off the stool and went to the counter to get herself a cup, then climbed back on the barstool. She never said a word. Any moment, she knew the pastor would come strolling out of his bedroom to the kitchen mumbling what a crazy person Jewel was. He would change his mind immediately. Grace thought that this was rather fun to change the course of history and turn believers to do for God. How great! What wondrous, glorious fun!
Patty whispered, "Why are you here?" Patty felt her knees sinking. Grace came over to steady her and help her up on an opposite stool.
"My name is Grace, Patty. I'm here to get you to do what God wants, to get you to be obedient to the anointing of our Lord."
Grace enjoyed the coffee. In spite of how awake she already felt, she seemed to perk up a little. Like clockwork, Pastor Tim came mumbling around the corner, not p
aying any attention to his wife or Grace but going directly for the coffee cup. "Where's my favorite cup? You know I can't drink coffee without it."
Patty jumped up and ran to him. He looked at her strangely, "Are you okay, Patty?" She shook her head "no" and grabbed his face, turning it towards Grace.
"I think I've got your cup, pastor," then her wings spread out in all directions and back in again.
Pastor Tim sank completely to his knees, and Patty pulled at his pajama collar saying, "Not so easy! This angel has something to say to us, and we're going to listen! Get on your feet!" she commanded. She didn't want either of them to miss the message. How often does a couple get an angel to visit them? This had to be serious.
"Get your call from Jewel?" asked Grace.
"Yes," his voice cracked nervously.
"Good, then do it!" commanded Grace. "In the next hour, I'll appear to every single believing member of your church. You have fewer than you think. I'm going to tell them to do everything that you tell them to do. Is there anything about what Jewel asked you to do that you don’t understand?" She didn't let him answer.
"I'd suggest you call her back and verify exactly what the Lord wants done. I want Patty to pick them up and take them to Albuquerque. Jewel is too upset to drive on her own. I want you there by ten o’clock this morning, no sooner, by ten. Do you have any questions?" She jumped off the barstool and stood with her hands on her hips. Irish was listening from afar and so proud of her that she could pinch herself. What a great heir-servant she was making.
"What if some of my church members don't do it?" He knew how stubborn some in his church were. "A train would have to run over them before they stopped doing what they wanted, no matter how many angels appeared," he added.
Grace quoted scripture, "For this reason many are sick and dead." It was a warning Paul gave the church about taking communion unworthily. She continued, "If that be the case, they will need be very concerned about the Grace-Irish-Aaron train." It was a cute but definite warning with serious overtones.
Pastor Tim stuttered, "I understand. I'm sorry I didn't believe Jewel. Thank you for showing yourself to us, to us all. Is heaven beautiful?" he couldn't help himself.
Grace walked over to him, and he went to his knees to be face to face with her. Grace touched his face lovingly, and Patty reached out to touch Grace's. A great peace went over them.
"Look, watch, go with me."
They were in heaven with its glorious light flooding their consciousness. They floated with her, and the immortals smiled at them knowingly. Great angel powers were returning from battle bloodied and shouting "Glory to the King." Throngs of children danced and sang in jubilee in the glistening golden streets. Appearing over this brightly dazzling road were two sets of parents, who Tim and Patty knew all too well, theirs.
They waved and shouted to them as they traveled above them, "We'll see you soon. Keep the faith. Do the good work of the Lord!" They were translucent without a wrinkle, just as young, perpetually young, as when Tim and Patty were kids, strong, vital, alive, and immortal.
As they turned towards the throne of glory, Grace said, "You'll see Him face to face soon enough but not now."
Still, they couldn't get over the millions of voices praising His name mixed with the sound of holy laughter and the sounds of children playing games in far fields. They settled in front of a brilliant stream of water that sparkled with glorious colors. "Take and drink. It's made up of the same Holy Spirit that flows from your hearts, rivers of Holy water," said Grace. They drank, filling themselves with the glory, and Grace brought them back.
"Do you understand?" she asked. They were speechless, but their tears told it all.
Grace disappeared and within an hour had visited over a hundred families, including their children. The pastor's phone never stopped ringing. When Patty left at eight to go pick up Jewel and Mandy, they finally had the whole church immersed in Holy Ghost intercession.
The Binding
"What's wrong L.A.?" asked Apollyon.
"I can't move. I've never been so restricted. What's going on? I feel like hundreds of chains are holding me in one place?" L.A. was sitting under a tree near the motel waiting for daylight, knowing he was out in the open but couldn't move from where he sat.
"It's the anointing. They're praying in the Spirit. Irish is getting humans to use the anointing just like you get nonbelievers to use the darkness in them to work for you. She has turned the tables on you and me. There's absolutely nothing I can do. No one can. No matter whom I send, they will be unable to climb that Holy Ghost wall she has put up. Good move, Irish. Good move."
God’s Crescendo
Andy was haggard and drawn looking when he came by the motel. He never had a night like this in his whole life. He felt like he had fought a 500-pound wrestler, and it was his own inner self he was fighting. He came so close to giving his life to God last night but didn't. He was almost afraid to pick up Irish and Grace after the motorcycle scene, but he was also afraid not to.
Irish and Grace walked out to his patrol car as he pulled up, and Grace immediately started pestering him about all the knobs and "gizmos," (a Pretzel word) as she called them. Grace frowned seeing the gun in the back, but Irish sent her a mind message that it was okay and relaxed for the ride. Just as they were passing the long drive out from the motel, Irish saw L.A.
"Hold it a minute, will you?" Irish got out and walked slowly towards L.A.
"Who's that kid?" asked Andy. He noticed that the boy was struggling like he was tied to something for all his twisting and squiggling, like a contortionist.
Irish moved close to L.A.'s face, literally crawling up to him on eye level. She moved so close to him that he could smell the sweetness of the tree of life from her breath, and it made him sick. He pulled back, but she kept getting closer, not close enough to kiss but close enough so he couldn't miss what she was going to whisper.
"Don't mess with me. You might not like having to lie out for six months to repair yourself. Because, the next time my protectors get a hold of your sorry rear end, we'll find a blender big enough to jam you into, and the only shape you'll be able to repair to will be a slug. How's that for a clear image?"
Irish stood up and made a sound, "Whrrrrrrrr," like a blender and moved her finger around and around towards the ground.
She turned behind her and said, "Isn't that right, boys?" A hundred angels seen only by L.A. were behind her and together made the same "whrrrrrrrrr" sound and copied Irish's circular motion with their fingers. The image was too vivid for L.A., and his eyes went wide with fear.
He sent a message to Apollyon, "Can they really do that?"
Apollyon spoke in a scowl, "Yes, without a doubt. They just about did it with Tare." Apollyon spit disgustedly, then with a slight bit of respect said, "Bravo, Irish! Bravo! You'd make one heck of a dark angel if I could turn you."
Irish walked slowly back to the patrol car. As she swung into the front seat, she brushed her hands together like she was knocking off the dirt, then said, "Well, I think that went rather well."
Grace commented, "Brought out the whole team, I see."
"Purely effect, Grace, just effect." Irish sat back into the car seat and folded her arms over her chest contentedly.
"Did it work?" asked Grace.
"Like a charm, and it didn't feel bad, either." Irish smiled thinking about the look on L.A.'s face.
"You two are scaring me. What did you do to that little boy?" Andy was upset at the thought of Irish intimidating a kid.
"Little boy? Is that whom you saw? I told him if he ever bothered me again, I'd put him in a blender and turn him to mush!" Irish turned to Andy and winked. "If you think you saw a little boy, then remember, things aren't always what they seem, trust me."
"I'm not going to start thinking about what's going on or what you two are. It scares me too bad. Let's just get to A
lbuquerque." He shifted into drive and left hurriedly. They rode silently while Andy thought about everything that had transpired and what was to come. He was tired and more frightened than he had ever been in his life.
Check-in was uneventful, Andy having done as the doctor instructed for the surgery. Irish and Grace waited for some time while they prepared him. Finally, they were allowed to enter the hospital room while everyone assumed they were his wife and daughter. Surgery was only 45 minutes away.
"Your family, Sir." Andy was facing away from the door and jumped at the hopeful thought, but it was Grace and Irish—he was disappointed but thankful.
"You're still around?" said Andy surprised as Irish and Grace were escorted in.
"Yeah," said Irish, "thought you might need someone around to change your bedpan," she smiled and patted his hand hooked up for a soon active IV. "For a second, you expected your real family, didn't you?"
"Yeah, kind of silly, wasn't it?" He was sullen and quiet. With a spark of curiosity, he said, "I'd like to know what you two are about. I can't figure it out. The closest thing I come to gives me an extraterrestrial scare. It's all just beyond me."
He changed the subject afraid of the answer, "Irish, do you think my wife is right about this reborn stuff? I know what you said; so I reckon, I know your answer. Tell me the truth. Is this rebirth all that it’s cracked up to be?" He secretly crossed his fingers hoping for a good answer, knowing what it would be.
"You're right. You know my answer. Why don't you try it?"
"Well, I just don't want to be a fanatic, that's all. I know I'm not doing too well on my own, like you said, but if I do this, I don't want to just try it."
"Good answer. There are a lot of different types of fanatics, aren't there? Do you think of Jewel as a fanatic? How do you like the changes?" Irish knew he was getting close to making a decision.
"You're right, she stopped what little cussing she did. When I think about it, she was sweeter and happier than she'd ever been. I expected her to be on a street corner preaching, but of course, she didn't. I wouldn't mind being changed her way, especially if it was important to Jewel and Mandy."
The nurse poked her head in, "Your surgery is forty minutes away, Andy. Just thought, you'd like to know."
Irish asked her, "What time is it?"
"About ten," she answered and left.
"I'd like to be alone for awhile if you don't mind," requested Andy.
"Sure. Remember, Andy, you just need to ask the Lord to forgive you and invite him into your heart. It's not rocket science." She winked at Grace, and they eased out of the room.
"Why did we leave? Aren't we supposed to help?" asked Grace. "We have. It's all up to him, now. Let's go see if we can find his family. Why don't you stay close to him, on a window sill or something?"
Irish: An Angel's Journey Page 11
