Chapter 5
Damaged Goods
The Oasis
Irish and Grace walked miles beyond the entrance of Camp Praise and were surprised to see a lush, green area just ahead. It looked as if it was all the way to the base of a sheer-rock mountain—stuck up against the flat desert. They figured it must be in an oasis of sorts. It had a small pond, which was fed from a waterfall coming from the rock cliffs. It was surrounded by full-foliaged trees and grass so peppered with wild flowers they thought they were in heaven. Irish couldn't help but remember her favorite heavenly spot.
"Grace, we're getting ready to take on a pretty dry part of our journey, mostly desert. Why don't we sit for a spell? I wouldn't mind a dip. How about you?"
Grace sighed, "No dip, but I wouldn't mind a little peace and rest, mostly rest."
Grace walked over to a weeping willow with its elongated leaves touching the water and the ground under it. She propped herself against it and said while drifting off, "I'd like to practice sleeping. There has to be something to it since humans spend half their lives doing it."
Irish laughed and noticed that Grace was already nodding off. Irish learned to sleep thousands of years ago, and she actually enjoyed catnaps. What she enjoyed most were the dreams. God always talked with her and ministered to her needs in those times. Some of her best ideas came from catnaps. She often thought that sleep was one of God's major ways of influencing humans if they were tuned to it. She certainly knew that God spent plenty of time trying to get to His people like that. Her catnap would have to wait. She wanted to enjoy a cool swim.
Irish slipped causally from her clothes and created a modest swimsuit, then with a practiced dive, pierced the water while feeling the brisk water enclosing around her. As she turned with her normal acrobatics, she heard another splash. She looked up from the sandy bottom to see Grace's reflection sleeping against the willow.
She turned to see where the splash came from. Not seeing anything except the ripples on the surface, she spun around trying to imagine what caused them. Just as she was about to shrug it off, familiar arms encircled her, and she yielded to Aaron's loving grasp. She didn't need to see him to tell it was Aaron, never did. Aaron's wings came out and covered them both in a loving embrace. She reached back to kiss his neck, and he returned it with a passionate kiss of his own and then loosened his grip as he shot upwards with his hands slipping to her small waist and gave her a gentle squeeze before he left her behind to follow.
"How I love you, Irish," he spoke as they bobbed quietly in the water, and he splashed at her for fun and swam to shore.
"I bet you tell all the angels that?" Irish replied while continuing to chase him, then splashed a high wave of water over his head using a single wing, then pulled it into her as she walked onto the pond shore.
Aaron fell to the grass laughing, "And if I did, what's that to you, love?"
Irish turned a blush red at his answer—knowing she was his dearest treasure, "You wouldn't dare. If you ever did, I'd make sure that I bore you nothing but heir-servants in New Jerusalem without a single power to your name."
"I bet you would too. So, what am I supposed to do while you live out another lifetime with another human minister, missionary, or whomever? Twiddle my thumbs, as the humans say?"
Aaron was lying with his elbow and hand as his head-prop enjoying watching her sweat from his last question. They had talked about it before, and both knew their time would come. They would be together for eternity someday without the battles and missions of mercy. Until then, they would fulfill their created calling. Nothing would stop that, and they would never suggest it be any different. Her journeys could take her more than a human lifetime; but after each one, she always returned to seek out Aaron. They always talked dreamily about the same things.
"You know the answer to that, Aaron," she shook her finger at him knowingly. She tauntingly changed her clothes and covered herself from under her chin to the tops of her feet.
Aaron shouted, "No fair, Irish! You don't see me putting on my armor when I come visiting you."
Irish laughed, waking Grace. She changed back to her faded jeans with a pair of hiking boots, a loose-fitting t-shirt tucked in haphazardly and included a baseball hat with the bill folded down the middle. She breathed easier with Grace awake. This Aaron encounter had her heart fluttering radically. She admitted many times to Aaron, as well as to herself, that she couldn't wait for the New Jerusalem. It took all her angel self-control to resist not forcing Aaron into a premature bond, angel relationship, before it was allowed. Still, those were the rules as well as their desire to wait. He was her rock, but his nearness made it difficult, especially when he surprised her like he did today. It was enough to drive her crazy, and she’d find herself day dreaming about it for weeks. Sometimes, it had to be years or decades before she saw him again.
Aaron's tone changed as Grace came towards him, "You two have been great. I wish I could've been around to see Tare's broken face bobbing like apples in a barrel. They want me; and if they can get me out of commission for awhile, there's no telling what they'd do."
Irish asked, "Did you get reassigned, like to Washington D.C.?"
"No, our Lord still has me doing some end-time planning. This unborn kid you talked about, the one whose father our Lord wants to read this book; he's pretty important. From all indications, he might be essential in saving many children during the last days, like a teenage, spiritual leader. This looks like this is one of your last assignments. It seems like New Jerusalem is closer than any of us imagined."
Aaron smiled and winked at Irish while patting Grace affectionately on her head, then he prankishly pulling one of her braids, "And you stop trying to eat everything, will you?"
Grace blushed, "I know, I know. I finally figured that out."
"But not before she learned what hurling was!" Irish fired back and laughed with Aaron about it.
"I heard about that. In fact, there isn't an angel in heaven who hasn't heard about it. We figured you were inventing a new kind of chemical warfare." Suddenly, Aaron's hand went into the air, receiving a message with the others following. "Looks like you two are up to bat," replied Aaron, looking very serious for a moment. "I'll be close. Your ultimate assignment has become my biggest priority in between more strategic planning. I'll keep tabs on you both from time to time."
Grace was surprised that she was on assignment so soon after starting the journey, but this was an emergency. Her first question to herself was, "What's a bat?" Then, out loud, "What's the plan on this trip or is there one?" Grace yawned and covered her mouth self-consciously wondering what the yawn was and forgetting it. She had her first dream and wanted to talk with Irish about it later but was slightly embarrassed. It was about food.
"It's simple. You'll be coached by me in several different situations, in different places, with different families and individuals. You'll be instrumental in providing protection, deliverance, provision, and leading humans to salvation, including healing when necessary. But in this newest case, we just need to get ourselves down the road to take care of it. It's a little unplanned."
"What kind of situation is this?" asked Grace, not clearly understanding the instructions they received.
"Just call it damaged goods. There isn't a human around who isn't a basketful of hurt and in need of repair and healing, but this one's special."
The Mistake
Jim's guardian angels were in a complete tizzy. They were unable to stop and turn him away from his plan, and nothing seemed to help. They stood by helplessly watching him messing up his life and causing chaos to his family.
Jim was a youth pastor of a large Baptist church in downtown Flagstaff. He was able to attract hundreds of kids to the Lord. The church was thriving when others weren't. Jim was considered a miracle worker and a real home-run guy. His wife and family joined him several months after he moved from New Jersey. The stuff of life k
ept them all extremely busy, not much in touch with each other, but certainly busy. It had been two years since Jim's arrival; and finally, things settled down to a controllable madness, but he made a mistake.
Lizards, Bread, And Moses Sticks
Irish and Grace trudged along a desert road in the middle of nowhere. It didn't take them long to get scorched by the intense heat. Grace saw Irish stop for a moment as she pointed to where a train track entered a mountain tunnel. She was also pointing to a figure of a lone man sitting near the entrance. He wasn't moving except to turn a stick over a fire roasting a lizard. They were still unnoticed, and Grace saw that they were heading his direction.
Grace covered her eyes from the blazing sun with sweat running from her in streams. "Irish, why can't we just go over there instead of walk? This heat is awful, and what is all this water coming from me? I can't stop it!" Grace was rather pitiful and pinched herself for not copying Irish when she created a large straw hat for the journey. She gave in and made one herself, then stopped suddenly.
"I'm not going one step more. I know we can't feel pain, not like humans, but I feel icky all over, and I don't like it!"
Irish smiled sarcastically, "Are we getting our britches in a wad, little girl?"
Grace was almost defiant, "What in heaven's name does that mean? If being in a 'wad' means soaking wet with this water dripping from me, yes, yes, yes, in a wad!"
"You're walking because I'm walking. You don't have to like it. You're learning what every human child has to learn. Do what you're told because I told you to. I don't need to have a reason. Just do it!" Irish felt the scolding hit Grace hard, and Grace's lower lip quivered. Irish didn't enjoy rebuking her, but she wanted her to learn this very lesson to do what you're told. Grace couldn't very well live out her life with humans if she didn't learn it.
"Okay, okay, angel grouch, I'll do it, but I don't have to like it."
She pulled her hat down hard over her head, and they both heard a rattlesnake's loud rattle disturbed by Grace’s angry, stomping feet. Irish turned at the sound and motioned for Grace to be quiet. The snake coiled its menacing head and waited for Grace to make a move.
Grace looked at the snake and shouted, "Oh pooh!"
The snake struck, but she moved to one side catching it in her hand with lightening speed. "This I know." She squeezed its neck tightly watching the snake baring its fangs and squirming in her hard grasp.
"You old serpent! You don't fool me! You bad, bad, snake!" Grace flung it down and jumped on its head with both heels. It thrashed for a minute and died from the onslaught.
"Well done, Grace. Next time, don't take things so literally. On earth, there really are things like snakes, and they don't have anything to do with Apollyon."
"Really!" Grace looked down at the damage. "Now, who would've thought?" She skipped over to Irish, feeling much better for some reason.
Irish thought while blocking her thoughts, "Must have gotten it all out of her system."
They were only off the road by yards, making a B-line for the train tunnel by using the double sets of train tracks as their guide. Irish answered the question before Grace asked, "A train uses these for transportation."
"Oh, okay," Grace nodded while walking a balancing act on the rail-tops.
Jim saw them coming and couldn't help wondering what they were doing way out here. He thought they were probably asking the same about him. He figured that they were stranded and needed help.
He spoke to himself, "They can forget it. I got enough trouble of my own without helping anyone else."
Jim was running out of town, running from his self-made trouble when he got robbed by a couple of homeless hitchhikers and thrown off the train. He felt in his own self-pity that God was paying him back for his sins. He accepted his punishment and sat down to consider just sitting down and dying, then he got hungry and changed his mind.
Irish watched as he ignored them and whispered to Grace, "Follow my lead."
As Irish approached, Jim felt unusually moved. He couldn't explain it. He felt that not only were these two odd, but they were extravagantly odd. Irish was way too pretty, and the little girl had a wide-eyed, naive, innocent Bambi look that made her look out of place and alien. It was also obvious that this little girl was very uncomfortable without a dry stitch on her. He couldn't figure them out. He felt the conviction of the Holy Spirit within him growing stronger the closer they came. It was discomforting and painful. He knew they had something to do with it. Irish looked around him, and there were at least fifty guardian angels sitting around Jim, heavy with grief. They had tried so hard and failed, and they were crushed by it. Irish sent a message for them to stand even nearer to him.
Irish stopped twenty feet from him and touched Grace's arm to stop. "Mister, would you mind some company from two fellow travelers?" Irish pulled off her hat and smiled at him warmly.
From afar, he thought Irish was attractive but nothing prepared him for how astonishing she looked. Her dark hair was soaked with sweat and plastered to her face and shoulders. He thought it made her look even more sensuous, but she wasn't uncomfortable with it, and her gentle smile made him think she actually liked it. She looked like she just walked out of a morning shower. Her height pleased him, and he quickly noticed that she was all legs. He could tell she was powerfully made; he thought athletic, by the way her muscles flexed in her arms when she moved them. He noticed her peaked biceps, well-developed triceps and forearms, which reminded him of women triathlon athletes he had seen on TV, but it wasn't imposing or unnatural; it enhanced her. She mesmerized him, and Irish knew it. The guardians smiled, knowing exactly how Jim was feeling. They marveled at how Irish could turn just so with thousands of years of practice, and men would melt down into their shoes.
Her Celtic accent ebbed and flowed like the rhythm of a harp, the sounds echoing into the desert hills and reflecting back off the barren landscape. It was full of a haunting melody that reached deep into Jim's inner man. He couldn't wait for her to speak again. He craved to hear her words so rich in their healing tones. He still didn't speak until she walked across from him and sat down. Grace touched her shoulder lightly as she stood close to her side. She changed from her whiny ways for the moment while transformed by the mission at hand.
"What you need is some bread to go with that lizard and a cool drink of water." Irish wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand to dramatically accent the thought.
"Lady, what you see is what you get. I didn't ask you to join me. Why don't you grab that rock over there and turn it into a loaf of bread or hit a rock with a Moses stick to get a drink of water? I see those cross earrings. If you really believe in your God, that's the least He can do for you."
Jim was feeling sarcastic and rebellious and wallowed in his own self-pity. It turned his pessimistic talk into more of a growl. He wanted to tear the earrings off her, but he didn't want to be reminded from where he had come, and his own conviction was eating him alive right now.
"Mister, I don't mind trying the rock on for size if it makes a difference. Who knows? It just might work. What do you think, Grace?" Irish was toying with him and trying to get him to unwind a little.
"Irish, you handle the bread, and I'll dig up a Moses stick," replied Grace while she looked around for a good stick-candidate.
"What are you two, whackos? Get out of here and leave me alone! You have no idea how messed I am right now! You're messing with the wrong person! I don't want company, bread, water, and especially your pious ways and jewelry!" He was getting so agitated that Grace stepped back behind Irish who was sitting cross-legged by the fire in front of him.
Irish picked up a flat sandstone rock and put it in her lap. Slowly and quietly just above a whisper, she started singing with her palms upward towards heaven, "Praaiissee," in sustained, elongated sounds, over and over again, "praaiissee."
He was stunned and felt sick at his stomach. The
sounds were so repulsive that he started to yell at her, "Stop this…" then his voice trailed off as he choked with emotion. He was unable to say a word. He felt her singing pressing on his heart. He felt his insides breaking up into large pieces. He felt the grief, and then images of his children and wife rushed upon him, and he moaned and held his hand up for Irish to stop. How could her singing do this to him? His guardians had their hands in the air praising God as Irish continued to sing, chant, and sing. Grace also had her palms upward while still standing close to Irish. Irish looked up; and in spite of staying in human form, her rainbow colors were surrounding her in a wide semicircle. She looked up and saw him put his face in his hands weeping. Each time he sobbed, big chunks of his heart broke until he felt the finger of God reach out and touch him so deeply that God's forgiveness was burning and wiping away the sin, the pain. For the first time in a long time, he felt the burdens being lifted away.
He looked at Irish and said, "I'm so sorry, so, so sorry. I know God sent you to me. I know that. Who, no, what are you?"
Irish didn't say a word but ran her hands over the rock in her lap. She tore a piece of bread from the changed rock and handed it to him saying, "The gifts of God for the people of God."
Grace stepped away from Irish, then picked up a piece of dried wood next to her. She hit a rock near him, and they all watched water pouring over the ground covering the fire as it made loud hissing sounds and sent up clouds of billowing, steamy smoke.
Irish asked Jim, "Jim, who we are is not as important as why God would send us out to the middle of nowhere to find you. You know what we are, don't you?" Irish got up and knelt next to him and put her arms around him as he cried into her shoulder.
"Your Lord is a Lord of second chances, and you've been given one. Don't you think it’s time to go home?" She spoke quietly just above a whisper while Grace came over and put her hand on his near shoulder.
"Yes, I want that, but I don't know if they do?" He pulled away from Irish in his doubt.
Irish let him go and turned to Grace, "Go tell his family that he's coming home. Tell Kathy that she can’t receive God's forgiveness unless she's able to forgive. Make sure the kids are near. I want them to hear it all."
"God will do all this for me?" He was silent for a minute unable to grasp the depth of God's love and the extent God was willing to go to bring him back. He shook his head in disbelief.
"For you and for His kingdom! God's kingdom isn't made up of perfect people, just people; people who make mistakes and mess-up. That's whom He’s for. You know that."
"How am I going to get back home, walk? It's fifty miles to the nearest town. A train won't be running for a week. I checked the schedules before I left."
He looked at the seemingly endless desert and the dirt road that wound its way through it and out of sight. He knew he'd never make it back on foot. Grace disappeared before him while Irish and Jim turned towards the shrill sound of a train whistle in the distance.
"Where did that come from?" asked Jim astounded.
"It's the Aaron train. You didn't see it on your schedule?" Irish smiled in amusement; and minutes later, a locomotive with only one car pulled up beside them heading back towards Flagstaff.
Aaron leaned out of the engineer's window and smiled at them. "You know, Irish, I could get used to handling one of these things. It's a riot. Do you suppose I could get our Lord to let me bring one back?" He laughed at himself and got out to help them onboard. Jim wasn't ready for Aaron's size and stood back for a moment until Aaron reached over for a bear hug. "I believe you have some family waiting for you, Mr. Jim."
They got aboard, and Aaron pulled the whistle several more times before the train moved an inch. Irish thought he was enjoying it a little too much.
Forgiveness
Grace appeared in Samantha's bedroom and stood beside her toy chest. Samantha saw her and never said a word. They reached for each other's hand and walked slowly out to the dining room where her mother was sitting. Kathy was staring at a hand-scrolled letter from Jim, a confession, and a family picture. No more tears could be shed. She had emptied herself. Her Jim was gone—caught up and snared by a mistake. She was angry, betrayed, broken, ashamed, belittled; and now, she didn't know how she would continue. She hadn't called anyone, no one. She was battling it on her own and losing. Her son, ten-year-old Jeff, came in the front door near her and didn't move. She turned to him and saw him staring at something. She followed his gaze and saw Grace with Samantha. She gasped and put her hand over her mouth, then Grace spread her wings around Samantha. No one said a word.
Grace said, "Jim is coming home. You have much healing to do. Don't speak about what's happened with anyone else. He's as broken as you are. His forgiveness and your family's healing are between you all and our Lord. There can be no words to make up for what's happened, only forgiveness. The Lord wants you to know how much He loves you all. You must not run from this trouble. Just rest in the Lord, trust in Him." Grace disappeared and appeared beside Irish on the train, smiling contentedly.
"You okay?" asked Irish, seeing tears in her eyes.
"Yes, I'm very okay? These humans are so frail and helpless against everything without God. But, oh how wonderfully made they are when our Lord's Spirit dwells in them. They are more like us than I ever imagined."