A Little Lower Than The Angels (The Generations Book 1)

by Caryl McAdoo

  “Where was that?”

  “We—you and I, my friend as with all of creation—came from the same place—the Mind of God.”

  The cherub pointed to the sleeping nook, and soon Abel sat across from the old one. “Once I had almost everything.” He chuckled. “Unlike the host, I can remember being in the Guff of Souls, floating in a sea of sweet bliss, content in all things. Save one.”

  “You remember being in God’s mind?”

  “Oh, yes. We all can, my brothers and I. We were there for…who knows how long? As were you, dear Abel.”

  “I don’t remember any such thing, but if you say.… You said ‘save one’; what was that?”

  “Well, you see, I realized—I know not how—that I could not feel my own face. I could see my brothers, and I asked the Almighty to be able to see myself.”

  “What did He do?”

  “Gave me the desire of my heart, of course. He spewed me from that bliss into the Crystal Sea. At first, I played and enjoyed so much fun, splashing and swimming, floating on my back with my wings sending ripples out onto the water.

  “Feeling my hands. And when the waters calmed, I first gazed at my reflection, beheld my own face for the first time. But then.…” The angel looked away.

  Why did he do that? Stop his story right in the middle?

  He turned back. “Then I realized what had happened. I could not go back, never return to my place. But being alone did not last long. Shortly my brothers came.

  “They too, it seemed, had asked God to see themselves and go where I had gone. Angel for angel, my brothers missed me, desired to be with me. So they came, but all longed to be back in His Mind.”

  “So we can never go back to the Mind of God?”

  Namrel’s wings unfolded and stretched then tucked back close to his torso. “With God, young man, all things are possible, but…we do have the next best thing.”

  Abel waited but no explanation came, as if the old one wanted him to drag it out. “What’s that? The next best thing?” He chuckled. “You always stop too soon.”

  “Oh, dear one, being in the Almighty’s Manifest Presence.” Namrel’s lips spread, contentment etched his creased face.

  “Sir, your face, it’s changing—as your hair, wrinkling. What’s happening to you?”

  Namrel put his hands on his face and rubbed. “Ageing, but be of good cheer, soon and very soon, I will be bathed in His Glory and be made new again.”

  Abel didn’t understand how it all worked; growing old for instance. Padam looked much the same as he always had. Not one silver hair anywhere that he ever saw; the same with Meve.

  His new stone home disappeared, as though he’d traveled. He found himself in another beautiful place, the colors wondrously intense.

  Winged men played in, on, and around the Crystal Sea—the reflective waters Namrel spoke of. It had to be. Off in the distance, on the opposite shore, a grand golden house sat high on a hill.

  Taller than God’s mountain, the structure glowed as though constructed with light rather than wood or stone. Namrel seemed to argue with his brothers, but Abel couldn’t hear their words.

  The firstling turned his back, leapt into the air. With only a few lappets of his wings, the cherub reached the edge of the golden glow that surrounded the enormous house.

  For a few beats of Abel’s heart, the angel hesitated then covered his face with his wings and disappeared into God’s Glory.

  The vision vanished, and the old one smiled.

  “Awesome being with God. I never wanted to leave. But after a while—my brothers claimed many sleep cycles passed—the Lord Himself lifted me onto the back of a seraphim. Thus it began. And for these many stars’ lives, we worship the Almighty by our divisions.”

  “Is His Abode beside the Crystal Sea then? What is a seraphim? How long is a star’s life?”

  “So many questions.” Namrel laughed joyously. “Who knows? The measurement of time, so elusive. He is not in time like us, by the way.”

  “This is difficult to understand. God isn’t in time?”

  “Correct. We are. But He knows the future as well as we know our pasts.”

  How could that be? He remembered Padam claimed Abba always was, had no beginning and would never cease to be. But still, the concept remained so hard to understand. “Are you the first angel, Namrel?”

  “Oh, no. The Keepers were before me.”

  “Are they like you and Centurion?”

  “No, Adam’s boy, not at all. Your parents have seen one of the seven.”

  “Who then? When?”

  “In the garden. The Angel of Death came to collect his due, for the wages of sin is death. He showed up to take your parents’ lives—for their sin….”

  “Lion. And Lamb. They offered their lives in place of my parents. Sacrificed their lives for Padam’s and Meve’s.”

  Namrel nodded.

  “I hated hearing the story, the day God cursed the earth. How could He be so cruel, loose that horrible creature. Whenever Padam would tell of that day, Meve always left the room. She wouldn’t hear it. We didn’t think she could bear the retelling.”

  “I can understand your mother’s disgrace and sorrow, but the Creator—He is never cruel, young man. But He is Just.”

  Abel yawned. “How so?”

  Namrel stood. “Rest for now, and we will begin again. Explaining the Almighty is no easy thing.”

  Whop! Whop! Sheriah leaned up from the stump she sat on and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Sixty.”

  Her husband turned around, sucked hard, and smiled. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’ve been counting, just like you asked.”

  He went back to his felling. At this rate, it would only take a finger’s worth of shadow fall before he got that one on the ground. She needed to be hunting something to eat. But even though the potatoes would soon be gone, he didn’t want her out of his sight. As though something might happen to her.

  Or maybe.… She giggled. How she loved being a wife!

  Hugging herself, she let her thoughts wander to children. She’d never seen a baby person, but it would be so adorable. With all her heart she would love it…or them. Would she have two boys at first, as Meve had?

  What would being a mother be like?

  Whop, whop, whop!

  Only took Cain three days to make his axe, so wise he was. Bless the Lord. Nod had plenty of iron ore and hickory trees. Padam spoke of trying about every kind of wood and said hickory lasted the longest.

  Three more blows in rapid succession cut into the tree’s trunk. He looked toward her. “Watch this.” He turned back and put his hand on the majestic tree. It gave way, and he went with it for a heartbeat then caught himself as the pine crashed to the ground.

  She jumped to her feet and clapped. “Excellent, sixty-six! A new record.” She skipped toward him then at the last minute, threw herself into his arms. “Want your reward now?”

  He laughed. “I need to get this trimmed and –”

  She kissed him. “Can’t that wait?”

  He kissed her back. “Our son needs a roof over his head.”

  She giggled. “Yes, he does, but Meve told me the baby grows three seasons and.…” She snuggled in tight. “We’ve got time.”

  Sure didn’t take much to distract her handsome husband. She nestled into his chest while he regained his breath. For this reason, a man will leave his father and mother and cling to his wife.

  That’s what Padam said, and now she understood. She and Cain were one flesh. He would cling to her for the rest of their days.

  “Have you decided on a name?”

  He exhaled. “I’m leaning toward Enoch.”

  “I like that. And for his brother? Don’t you accept that I’ll have two as our mother did?” She rolled onto her side. “And I don’t think we should wait fifteen years between babies like Padam and Meve did.”

  “Why? What are you thinking?”

  “Well, she told me her
body recovered from birthing me in only two moons. If the child is born in three seasons as she reported, we could have a baby every year if we wanted.”

  He chuckled. “I see. That is definitely something to consider. So…instead of a house, I should be planning on building a city.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A place with many dwellings. I saw it in a vision then heard the name. In a city, our children and our children’s children will live close to us.”

  “Oh, Husband, I’d love that.”

  “Soon, more people than you can count.”

  She clapped. “Yes, and they’re all our babies. Yes, Cain, let’s build a city.” She snuggled back in. Life was so good. If only.…

  CHAPTER NINE

  That night, ten days’ journey east from the land of Nod, by the light of his oil lamp, Adam studied the plans then dipped the quill in the berry juice. Instead of marking the line, he held the feather out.

  “What if we put a wall here?” He touched the place with the feather’s tip. “That would give us another bedroom.”

  Eve smiled. “If we do not, then you can finish it that much sooner.”

  “True.”

  She took the quill from his hand. “So it is settled then?”

  He held the parchment up close to the soft glow and studied it a few heartbeats. “Yes, it will be a grand home.”

  “How long do you think?”

  “Years.”

  “How many?”

  The number three score and nine came to mind, but he did not give it voice; instead he smiled. “It will take many stones. They will be heavy, but I will be diligent. I can see to my orchard and the garden before short shadow, then quarry and haul until even six days of seven until our home is finished.”

  She nodded. “I once tended the sheep. I can see to them again, plus all the gathering and meal preparation. I will keep our home and clothes clean, washed. When I can, I will help work the stones. Working together again, side by side will be fun.” She chuckled. “Waiting upon the Lord carries a high price.”

  He pulled her to his chest, kissed her nose, resisted more. “Bless His Holy name. The days will fly by. Nothing like the years when I waited for Abba to give you to me.”

  She opened her mouth, but before she spoke, a mournful wail echoed across the valley.

  “Sounds like wolf’s song.”

  “No, maybe the son of his son. It is a dirge he sings, but his mate, she does not answer.”

  “Should we see to the sheep?”

  He nodded and slipped his hand into hers. Seemed that night, he would sleep in the sheep coat. Oh what folly his sin had wrought.

  Abba God, purge us of our iniquity and make all things new.

  Justice and mercy. How could the Creator mete both? But the cherub had proclaimed them the two main attributes of the Almighty. Could they go together? Were they not as oil and water? North and South?

  In the middle of the meadow outside the stone building, the newest yearling frolicked with the two Abel and his father had sacrificed such a short time ago. Lamb and the other sheep hardly noticed the yearlings, instead seemed to visit with each other in a tight group, chewing their cud just as on the edge.

  “Namrel! I have another question for you.” He listened for footfalls. “On the edge I wondered, but you probably know.” He rose and went to find his teacher. “When chewing cud, do sheep talk to each other in some special way?” Still no answer. Where could his friend have gone? He popped his head into the opening of the book’s room. Empty.

  Abel pondered his question in the light of what he’d learned of God. He loved this place, so beautiful and different. He’d love to see his parents and siblings again, but in the profound peace of Paradise, he’d wait joyfully for the one fine day when they would join him there.

  He remembered the time Padam took him and his twin hunting for seed. He missed his mother and sister, but knew he’d see them again. And Cain! How he had amazed Abel with his awareness, his uncanny propensity to locate and harvest seeds from a myriad of plants for food. And the delicious fruits and vegetables and nuts he found.

  Three notes sounded. Blue light crackled, and the swoosh of the portal opening sounded. Abel ran through the house hurrying to see the happenings. No war songs rode the thundering clouds. Why had the corridors’ gateway opened then? Wouldn’t that be a fine day? When Abba allowed him to fly as His angels through the corridors to the third Heaven?

  More than a score of winged men stood on the grass and flowered lawn in front of the stone house. Namrel talked with one of the angels. Abel approached. The old one turned. “Adam’s Son, come see and meet. This is Ormnar, leader of Michael’s Seventh Cohort of the Sixth Legion.”

  “Greetings.” He nodded toward the angel that towered over him by two heads at least then turned to the cherub. “Has the truce broken?”

  “No, this cohort builds.”

  The visiting angel extended his near wing and brushed Abel’s shoulder. “We sing if needed, but are the Master’s builders.” He faced Namrel. “Michael said you knew the song of the new structure, how it is to be constructed.”

  The cherub closed his eyes, bobbed his head a few heartbeats like getting ready with the tempo then whistled a lively tune. Abel bounced his foot and slapped his thigh to the rhythm and caught the melody. He hummed a tenor harmony.

  The lead builder looked from Namrel to Abel with widened eyes and a smile. “Yes, that would be a wonderful addition. Sing me all the details, son of Adam.”

  Far as Abel knew, he hadn’t said anything and wasn’t sure what Ormnar referred to, but he kept humming until the old one stopped. “Good idea, Abel, very good. Liable to take an extra cycle or two, but they should have time.”

  He laughed. These angels.… What did they speak of? “Time for what?”

  “The house they will build.” Namrel nodded toward two of the larger ones who flew off carrying large wooden boxes, each followed by a half score more. “They go to the quarry, to cut stone.”

  Though not certain he even wanted to know, he couldn’t help himself from asking. “New house, huh? Who is it for?”

  “Your sister.”

  “Sheriah?” His beautiful sister was coming? That was wonderful news. “When? Do you know when she’s to arrive?”

  “The Lord knows. He has chosen not to tell us.”

  “So on the edge, she’s the next to fall? Her shell will cease to live as mine? Is it because of my brother? Will he hit her in the head with a stone?”

  “Many questions with no answers, my young friend. This way.” Namrel pointed with his off wing. “I know the perfect spot for Sheriah’s home. We will see if you agree.”

  Abel followed then stood with Namrel as some of the builders went to work clearing the site the cherub marked off of the top layer of grass and the few little trees. Once squared, the angels took to stomping the soil. These men—except they were not, but other than their wings, seemed so much like humans—danced and sang as they worked.

  Abel loved it. He would have joined in, but seemed to him he’d only be in the way. The angelic crew worked so fast, and their jig so lively, he’d be left behind. He listened for the harmony to their joyful melody but none came.

  Four of the ones from the quarry flew in with the first stone, each carrying a heavy piece of rope or cord wrapped around the quarried rock. He faced his new friend. “Where were they working? Can we go there? I’d enjoy watching them cut the stones.”

  The old one smiled. “Rather walk or fly?”

  Abel’s breath caught. Except it didn’t really. Or did it? “Fly if I get to choose? But how can I with no wings?”

  Namrel sang two loud notes. “Ormnar, the man here would like to see the quarry. Please ask two of the host to give him a lift.”

  Lift indeed, one strong bicep under each arm, and off over the tree tops he flew. Hysterically fun and amazing, to say the least. Paradise proved vast, but not even a finger’s worth of anything but rocks. />
  At the quarry, the lads set him down gently on a ridge overlooking the stone pit.

  Pairs of these builder angels worked side by side. Two here sawing a rope through the stone, another pair working on the same block but from the bottom. When he and his father and brother worked the stone, it took a day to even chisel one small block loose. What these angels accomplished in a mere hand’s worth of shadows astounded him.

  Namrel circled overhead then slowed and fluttered down next to Abel. “How was your trip?”

  “Awesome, I love flying.”

  “It does have its advantages.”

  The old one fell silent, and for a bit, Abel watched the work progress. “What’s that rope they’re cutting the stone with?”

  “They weave diamond dust into a jute that grows up river from my dwelling. We have been using such for several stars’ lives now. Slices the granite rather handily.”

  “The ropes used to carry the massive stones, are they made of the same jute?”

  “Yes, indeed. Good eye, my young friend.”

  “So interesting; on the edge we used very little stone because they were so hard to cut. Well, Padam made our altars with rocks, but he said Abba told him not to put a tool to those.”

  “If allowed, I would provide your father one of the saw ropes, but without the Lord’s expressed instructions, we tread not on the edge. It is forbidden.”

  Abel knew all about obedience and forbidden fruit. How desirable Meve declared the fruit from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil was. But oh, how heavy the price to pay for partaking in what Abba forbade.

  Even came and the same two angels gave Abel a lift back to his stone dwelling.

  The days piled on top of themselves, and he lost track of how many or when the seasons changed, though they surely did, for the old cherub spoke of them, yet not as on the edge. He oft returned to the quarry, hitching a ride, but usually only when the builders changed stone, and then to help choose the colors and designs.

  After all, he knew his sister better than most. And though the Lord had given Namrel a song for her house, and the harmony Abel sang, not all was included. He loved adding touches he knew she would love such as a trough for feeding lambs special treats.