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

by Caryl McAdoo

  Then one day, they announced their work complete and left together in a hurry. Namrel claimed it had taken the builders ten seasons and four days. Abel could only take the old one at his word. Paradise changed not, and he’d never marked his times of rest.

  Every day flowed together as did the seasons and times of times. Abel longed for nothing, but did look forward to the day his sister and parents would join him in this most wondrous of places.

  Cain, father of two—Enoch and the boy’s sister-wife, Ishlia—drew no contentment from his children. Nor did the city he worked to build bring gratification to the oldest son of Adam.

  He longed to leave, see what existed over the next ridge. He fought against the wanderlust, but it seemed with each new field cleared and plowed or building erected, it only grew worse.

  Each autumn, after the fall harvest when he offered his best produce to the voice and vision that brought him to the land of Nod, he promised himself that next year, he would go and see that which loomed beyond the next mountain.

  Cain built his city and gave Sheriah more sons and daughters until the birth of his oldest son’s firstborn, Irad. But the desire to travel grew great and took him away from all those in his life.

  Just as the God of Adam predicted, the marked man became a fugitive and vagabond in the earth, knowing neither where his journey would take him nor when it might end.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Adam studied the last block then faced his wife. “What do you think?”

  She retreated a few steps, moved to the side, closed one eye, then smiled. “It’s plumb.”

  He thought so, too. “Good. Any bread left?”

  She laughed. “No, you ate it all.” She nodded downhill. “Want me to bring you something? Sissy and I need to put the sheep in the fold.”

  “No, I’ll come with you.” It tempted him to keep going, but he’d learned not to overwork his muscles. “I’ve done enough for one evening.”

  She waited for him then slipped her hand into his. He loved that she wanted to touch him all the time again and drew strength for his weary self from her as he trudged back to the log house.

  “You are doing it more and more.”

  He glanced at her. “Doing what?”

  “Combining words, just like the twins were want to do.”

  “Am I now? Guess I’m getting lazy in my old age. Do you think?”

  “Old? I think absolutely not, my dear husband. You look as handsome and young as the day Abba banished us from Eden. And lazy? No, no, my love. You are a steady, wonderful, hard worker. I want you to know how much I appreciate your effort, too. You always make me proud. I love you so.”

  “Well, you my love, have gotten so much more beautiful.”

  She bumped her shoulder against his. “You best watch your smooth talking mouth, sir. By my calculations, another fifteen years will pass before our home is finished.”

  He resisted contradicting her; by his reckoning, it could take another two score years, a lot longer than the sixty-nine he first thought. He spotted Sissy and the sheep. “They’re over there. See if she can hear you from here.”

  Eve put her fingers to her lips and whistled her bring-them-home notes.

  The daughter’s daughter of the wolf pup he’d found that morning many springs ago—the day after he made Eve’s first sin offering—perked her ears at the sound then circled the flock into a tight group and barked them toward the fold.

  “Bless the Lord, I love my Sissy.”

  He nodded. “Yes, the wolf pup was a nice gift Abba gave to help you, frees you up for more time to bake my bread.”

  She bumped his shoulder again. “Is your stomach all you think about?”

  He chuckled. “When I’m hungry.” If she only knew how much he ached for her. “And I do love your cooking.”

  With the sheep grained, hayed, and bedded, he followed his wife on to the log house. That night, snuggled with his wife, he dreamed of his second son.

  In Paradise, he stood next to Abel on a ridge over a quarry much like the one he hewed his building blocks from. Winged men there cut their stones using a rope saw.

  Another smaller-winged one drifted downward from the sky and landed next to Abel. For a few heartbeats, neither spoke, yet he had a sense of communication between them. His son finally spoke aloud. “What is that rope they’re using that cuts stone?”

  “Jute encrusted with diamond dust.”

  Adam sat up in bed. Perhaps he could finish his home by the one hundred and thirtieth anniversary of his creation, perhaps even a few months sooner. “Bless you Lord. What a wonderful gift, one hundred years from my banishment, a son in my own image—as I am in Yours.”

  “What did you say?” Eve rolled on to her side. “What are you grinning about in the middle of the night, dear husband?”

  The portal’s song split the silence. The cherub reached the door ahead of Abel, just as the blue sparks flashed. A rather large and very beautiful angel spread his wings, their breadth caused Abel’s jaw to drop.

  The magnificent one glided to the ground right in front of Namrel who laughed, made formal introductions, then shared a rather strange proclamation.

  “Gabriel stands in the presence of the Creator.”

  Abel pondered why that would be notable, but before he arrived at any conclusion, the visitor grinned like he and his twin Cain oft did at the announcement of good news. “The Watch soon changes, old friend. The Lord requires me to bring you home.”

  “Bless His Holy Name. But of late, I must say I have been feeling it in my feathers.” He backed up a step. “Give this one a stars’ twinkle or seven.”

  “Of course.” While Namrel hurried to the house, the visitor studied Abel quite extensively.

  Under the being’s scrutiny, Abel finger-combed his hair then smiled. “So Namrel’s leaving?”

  “Yes. You favor your mother, Son of Adam.”

  “You know my parents? Do you have any news of them?”

  “Both walk in the grace of the Most High.”

  “Good. Have you heard when my sister will come here to Paradise?”

  “No, but the truce holds. But once both camps are at full strength, I expect evil will grow restless.” Gabriel’s expression showed a deep sorrow. “My brothers… so misguided.”

  “And mine. Has he repented yet?”

  The angel shook his head. “I know not. But he still lives.”

  “Namrel’s mentioned the watch, but I’ve never really understood.”

  “Perhaps, after we leave, the Lord will give you a glimpse.”

  The cherub joined him. He patted a small bump on his hip. “I have it all.” He faced Abel. “Perhaps one fine day, He will allow me to return, young friend, but if not, after the reconciliation, do come find me. Not an angel soaring who does not know where this one dwells.”

  “Reconciliation, what’s that?”

  Gabriel laughed. “One of His mysteries, but one day, man will be redeemed.”

  Abel extended his hand toward the old one. “Thank you, my friend. I’ll miss you.”

  Taking it, Namrel pulled Abel to himself then wrapped him in his wings. “Likewise. Thank you, this away has been most pleasant.” He stepped back and extended his hand toward Gabriel. “Until that day.”

  The archangel sang the portal’s open notes, took Namrel’s hand then in a star’s twinkle—or was it seven?—the pair of winged men darted up through the opening with one breezy flap of those mighty wings.

  After Abel watched for a few beats of his heart, a fog engulfed him, and he slumped to the ground. A deep sleep overwhelmed him.

  He dreamed. Or was it real?

  A few steps outside of a shimmering wall of golden light, thousands upon thousands of angels lined up in perfect rows of three divisions and stood in total silence. Hundreds, thousands, even hundreds of thousands—too many to count, like the stars in the sky or the leaves on a tree.

  Above the glow, eight larger angels soared; each had six wings.
He’d never seen anything like them. With two, they covered their feet, and two more covered their mouths, and with the other two, they flew.

  Circling above, they cried in unison with loud voices. “Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty.”

  A trump sounded, and the front two angels of each division turned in unison, extended their wings, shadowing those once behind them whom they now faced, and walked backwards into the Throne Room, into the manifest presence of the Most High.

  The smallest, and oldest of the host took only two steps before they turned, stepped aside from the ranks, and fell to the floor worshiping.

  The next two pivoted, raising their wings, and took the lead. They shielded the rest of their division from God’s glory. But that pair—as with each that followed—could only take a few steps before they, too, stepped aside and went to their knees before God.

  Flashes of blue and white light cut through the glow. Each footfall of the host fell in unison, and the boom reverberated through Abel’s soul and thrilled him as that remarkable day on God’s Mountain, the day he witnessed God’s fiery finger and heard his Creator’s voice.

  Only a thousand times better.

  The divisions neared the area of the throne where the twenty-four elders adored Him Who sat upon it, worshipped the Lord. The seraphim landed outside the glory and one of the host lifted Namrel onto the six-winged angel’s back.

  It flew into the Throne Room and floated down as far as the front of the middle line had proceeded.

  The lead two of the host, wings high and wide, shielded Abel’s teacher, while the next two lifted him off and sat him into an empty seat vacated by the elder—who since the last Changing of the Watch had remained prostrated before the Almighty worshiping. Once seated, Namrel bowed his head low.

  The same who’d lifted him off the seraphim picked up the cherub in front of Namrel’s seat—the one who’d been before the Lord’s throne when the divisions arrived—and placed the shining cherub onto the back of the seraphim.

  So heavy with God’s manifest glory, the elder could not walk of his own.

  The multi-winged angel flew from God’s presence to the Temple built without hands and deposited his load. As soon as he’d left, Namrel took the place of his luminous brother, falling prostrate before The Holy One.

  The seraphim returned to carry another fresh elder in and shining elder out of the manifest glory that filled the Throne Room of Heaven’s King.

  Thus the changing took place, one by one, the host advanced around God’s Throne. The whole of the procession filled Abel with wonderment, its beauty and splendor, its pomp and precision.

  The heaviness lifted.

  Once again in Paradise, Abel sat up and looked around. Had it only been a vision? But how? Namrel and Gabriel…. They just left. How…?”

  WITH ME ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE

  Abel fell to his knees. “Yes, Abba.”

  He remained there for only the Lord knew how long; then a strength returned and a certain knowing. He jumped to his feet and ran toward the meadow. Over the middle of the waving grasses there, floating barely higher than his head, two of the host fluttered gently toward the ground.

  Just as his sister’s feet touched down, he reached the trio.

  “Abel.” She collapsed into his arms.

  He hugged her tight, thrilled to the brim with his love for her and thankfulness for her presence. Then he noticed the bundle in the other angel’s clutch and lowered his sleeping sister to the soft grasses.

  The wee parcel was even smaller than Sheriah at her birth. He held an arm open, and the angel carefully placed the baby boy into his embrace. The tiny one searched his eyes then smiled. He snuggled the child in with his mother and nodded toward the host.

  “Thank you.”

  “The Lord’s peace be with you and yours, beloved Son of Adam.”

  With a grunt, Adam lowered the piece of flagstone into place, added a daub more mortar to the edges, tapped it with his tool, then wiped the excess away. Perfect. He stood and turned slowly inside the room. That was it. The bathing room complete.

  NOT YET

  “But what is missing?” No answer came. He sank to his knees and bowed on the cold stone. “Yes, Lord. Show me what I still need to do.”

  Slowly, like a feather floating on a breeze, he drifted through each room of his home as it would become. The vision presented it before his mind’s eye. “Yes, Abba, as You have shown me, I will obey and complete this home. Eve will love it.”

  He found his wife outside planting flowers along the front path. He waited until she dug and filled the last hole. “I have news.”

  Wiping her forehead with her arm, she extended her dirty hand. He grabbed it and pulled her to her feet. “Tell me you have finished!”

  “Not yet.” Her countenance fell, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “The Lord showed me more to be done and….”

  “And what?”

  “Abba says you are not to come until our home is complete.”

  She pushed away and shook her head. “What? Why? Tell me why! I need....” She spun from his embrace and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Oh, Lord, help her see. Soften her heart.

  Then after many beats of his heart, her shoulders lifted then fell, her sigh audible. His beloved turned back and grinned. “How do you like my plantings? Don’t you think they look grand?”

  “I do.” His heart soared. She’d chosen wisely with God’s help. “As does our home, don’t you think?”

  “Indeed.”

  Oh, how he wanted to tell her what the Lord had showed him. “So you are all right then? You are willing to wait as Abba desires? You will return home. And are agreeable not to come back until I am finished?”

  “I am.” Her lips turned down. “But how long will that take?”

  “A few days.” He smiled then backed away. “About the time to sew a new dress, and…” He tugged on his tunic. “Shouldn’t take more than a handful of days, two handfuls at the most.”

  She returned his smile, then snuggled in tight. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, wife.”

  The days of preparation crawled by. A few times, Eve lost herself in her work, but with him spending most of his waking hours working on whatever he was doing to finish the new home, it seemed like the waterwheel turned backwards.

  Frustrating, but also joyful. The many years of waiting almost at their end.

  The morning of the seventh day, she woke with Adam grinning at her.

  “What?”

  He kissed her lips ever so gently then leaned back. “Tonight, we will sleep in our new home.”

  A gasp escaped, then all the things she needed to accomplish danced before her mind’s eye. She kissed him, lingered a bit too long, then rolled out of bed. “When should I be ready?”

  “A bit before even.” He threw back the skins. “Help me load our furs into the cart and anything else we’ll need for tonight. The rest can wait.”

  Twice she remembered something else then insisted he wait while she retrieved his new tunic. She handed him her neatly folded and double-wrapped present. “Don’t open it until you are ready to fetch me.”

  He laughed. “Yes, my love.” He placed his present on top of the cart then extended both hands; she took them, let him pull her into his embrace. He wrapped his arms round her, then held her until her heart beat in unison with his. “Tonight, we start anew.” He kissed her then leaned away. “Looking back, the years seem like nothing. You are so worth the wait.”

  The desire to throw herself on him proved strong, but her longing for everything to be right all the stronger. She contentedly pressed against his chest and cuddled there, letting him hold her.

  So protected he kept her, so wise and patient he was, and so obedient to the Creator.

  After a long while, she backed away. “Go. I will be waiting.”

  In nine months, it would be one hundred years since that horrible day, yet Abba had mad
e a way. She hugged herself. A warmth and peace settled over her. Soon all would be right again. Soon.

  She had so much still to do before even. She waited until he topped the hill, waved when he turned, then ran into the house that had so long been her home. But not after tonight.

  One long blow sounding two notes reached her ears first. The shofar! The trumpet sounded and her heart swelled. Her beloved! He was coming!

  She scurried around and patted more Jasmine petals on her neck and face, inhaling its sweet fragrance. She ran outside brushing her new dress to ward off wrinkles. It had no spots either, as all her old ones.

  Then a song erupted, and her husband came into view. He had not played the flute since he gave it to Abel, but that one had been buried with her son.

  He must have fashioned another, for its cheerful tune set her feet to dancing. She twirled and whirled and danced her way to him with both arms over her head, leaping and skipping.

  Her husband rode toward her on the back of Horse’s grandson’s son, decked out in his new tunic, hair and beard washed and trimmed short, just the way she liked it. He looked so handsome.

  On reaching her, he stopped his song and jumped down.

  She ran to him.

  He caught her and twirled her around then lifted her onto the stallion and turned.

  “Wait, get my basket, I’ve got wine and cheese and….” She laughed. “And you will see.”

  He laughed with her, retrieved the basket, then held it up to her. He led the animal, and she rode. Ever so grand! The sun dipped down just as he reached the front path. Her flowers had taken a good stand and bordered it with a fusion of color.

  He took the basket then helped her down.

  Slipping the reed halter from the horse’s head, he patted his rump, and the steed trotted off with a whinny. “Come, wife, see our new home.”