“I’m sorry. I’ve been a pain today, and I’m sorry,” he whispered in her ear. “I guess I just…”
How could he explain what he was feeling? How frightened all of this made him?
How very much the disappearance of Calico’s brother and sister, combined with a nitwit for a client and then, Justice disappearing through some… portal or something… had him so on edge he wanted to scream?
“Hey,” she told him, pulling him in closer. He could smell the jasmine-vanilla of her hair products, and smiled. “We all have days where stress just piles up. Don’t beat yourself up over things you can’t change. What’s now is now, just as what’s past is past, and neither thing can be changed; not right now. All we can do,” she continued, “is trust God to work it out for the greater good.”
“Even if it means someone dies, or has died? Even if it means we never get Justice back, or our client tries to go for his dog one last time, and things go south? Even if we learn that Felix and Jasmine had something terrible happen to them, all because of our program?”
“How do you figure,” she asked as he opened the door and stepped inside, allowing her to pass, “that it would be the fault of the program? Or anyone in it? Haven’t they made their own decisions?”
Well, yes, they had, but had they not brought Rosemary Jenkins to California, changed her name, kept her in Anaheim for years, then moved her to Seal Beach when they thought, finally, the coast was clear only to find it wasn’t.
Wasn’t HUVA at least partly to blame?
After all, if it weren’t for their program, Calico would never have been anywhere near California. She wouldn’t have had to move to Mississippi, either, with her family.
Then again, she might not be alive anymore, either, if it weren’t for them. And she wouldn’t have the family God had given her. All of their lives would have been so totally, radically different if the Hollywood Underground Victims Assistance program hadn’t come into existence.
He really had no way to gauge at all.
He moved to settle into one of the blue stuffed chairs that surrounded the simple table they’d had set up for meetings and pulled his phone out to check notes from the past meeting.
Randall Pham, Tim and Jin Ae Campanelli, Connie and her new husband, Robert – who, ironically had transferred from the Southern branch of HUVA in order to marry her – and Keith Morrison were already present, and there was a note saying Kent Burrows would be late.
Great.
Just what they needed.
But be that as it may, he was thankful the rest of the group who had finalized themselves to stay onboard with Mr. Axelsson had shown up. And if that were the case, maybe someone could run for food before-hand while they waited for Kent to arrive. It would be as good of an excuse as any, wouldn’t it?
His stomach growled at the thought of eating.
Had he even had breakfast?
Things had gotten so complicated so quickly today he wasn’t entirely sure he remembered eating at all yet, and here it was, nearly two in the afternoon.
“What say we just have someone run over to Papalucci’s while we wait, eh? I don’t know about anyone else here… but I’m starving.”
He glanced around the room at these people who had become family to him – yes, even Robert; they’d worked together on a case or two in the past, before the man had married Connie – and noted once more how much they’d all changed.
He could remember when Randall was a fifteen year old boy, just moved to California with his parents from North Carolina, and when Connie’s first husband, Gary had passed away three months into their marriage. He could recall stories and tender moments and tough calls in each of their lives, and he was thankful for each of them.
“Papalucci’s? Sure, why not,” Tim said, the drawl in his voice more evident than usual. Brice glanced up to find his friend with a toothpick in the corner of his mouth. “I’ll head on over. Just give me your orders, everyone, and I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
And with that, Brice’s soul was satisfied.
At least in deciding with where they got lunch from.
Fourteen
The Stairway... The Timeless Now
Masao thought back to all his talk of being an otaku of Heaven and the Hebrew language, and realized it was bravado, compared to how he was now feeling. Surely he was a fan, and surely he was in awe, but could Paloma sense he was shaking? Could anyone else?
He knew God could, and so, the angels must, too, yes?
His whole life had culminated in this moment, and here he was, shaking like rice in the wind. If his father, his grandfather, his great grandfather could see him now… could see him shaking the chaff out of his bones as he awaited time with the Father of All, what would they advise? What would they say?
They had not known God, not that he was ever aware of, and yet, he had hoped to reach his father and grandfather for Jesus before they passed on. With his grandfather, it was now too late. He either believed before he died, or he hadn’t, and Masao may never find out the truth.
But with his father?
He prayed he would be given one more opportunity to speak together with him; one more day of togetherness that would help the Holy Spirit usher his father into the Father’s kingdom… but would it happen?
As Paloma turned the key in the gate, he heard a light clicking sound, and then, she asked him to help her push it open. With utmost respect and care, he placed a hand next to hers on the handle, and as one, they moved the door into the open position.
And if he thought the rainbow light they’d been walking in, rejoicing in, praising God in was beautiful, it had nothing on what was beyond. He had no words in mind- in any language – to fully grasp what he saw.
No wonder the prophets of old related things as best they could with word pictures, and no wonder people were often unable to comprehend them, even still.
He thought of John on the Island of Patmos, and how he’d received the Revelation of Jesus Christ, and all of the differing interpretations he, himself had heard over the years. His mind flittered to passages in Isaiah and Ezekiel and Daniel, and back to the words of Jesus in the Gospels, and it all flooded in on him like the warm light pouring forth from the doorway.
The gateway. The right gate of three gates.
Behind him, he could hear the others proclaiming softly at the beauty before them, and he could hear Lemuel instructing them to move forward, but it all seemed a haze, even as he heeded the words.
He waited for Paloma to step forth first, and then walked behind her.
He could sense the others moving toward them, just as slowly, until all five, plus their angelic escort, were on the inside of the door, and then, as if by an invisible hand, it shut of its own accord behind them.
Masao turned toward his companions and they reached once more for one another’s hands in solidarity. Edward whispered something about a final prayer together, and they all bowed their heads.
And as the man prayed, Masao’s mind raced; though he was at peace, he was also eager. Eager to see what was ahead, and eager to get back to his family, and eager to bend his knees before the Mighty One of Judah, Who had died on his behalf.
The idea of it shocked and humbled him more than anything had, and was it any wonder? For he had never thought this day would really come, and yet, here he was, walking the very halls of – well, where were they?
Was this part of Heaven?
A transitionary place?
Was it a place in the mind that they were allowed to enter, or a place in the heart of God Himself?
He wasn’t entirely sure, but he knew that there was hope here. There was peace, forgiveness, love, and joy, and grace here.
He thought briefly back to when he’d first seen the doorway glittering in the light as the angel-topped mirror reflected toward the fence at the Stuarts’ place. How could such a thing be real, and not be illusionary? How could they walk into a half-inch thick fence and not get hurt, but instead be
come part of a whole different dimension altogether?
A whole other realm?
But they surely had, and now, they stood here in a light whose color he had no words for; a light that seemed to transcend and meld together all other light; all other colors, and yet was not either black or white, nor anything he was used to, and the light radiated a warmth brilliantly upon his limbs, and his face. When he blinked, the presence was even stronger than when his eyes were open, and so he shut them.
Yes, it was more intense now.
He murmured his amen along with the others, not knowing for certain what Edward had even prayed. His mind was so full, and his heart so overflowing that his senses were no longer processing everything.
Masao gulped even as he opened his eyes once more, and Arieh – or was it Ari’el? He wished he could tell the pair apart – was looking directly into his eyes, causing him to shiver once more.
“All will be well,” the angel said, his silvery hair and glittering blue-green eyes melding into the colored light that had no name, making his features even more exotic than they were upon first sight. “They will see you again. Do not worry about another day. Only think about now, for you are in this moment; in this timeless place, and it is good.”
Ah, so they were outside of even time? Not just outside of the space they were used to, but of both time and space?
“May we usher you all into the presence of the King,” he heard Neriah say nearby. When he turned, the angel’s eyes seemed to be ablaze, and his wings were outlined with the color that was nameless but nevertheless more breathtaking than any Masao had ever seen.
And I’m not even the color authority here; Paloma is, he mused before amending his thought. No, the maker of light Himself, the Father of Lights, He is here; He is present. He is the authority.
“Yes, He is,” he heard Ezer reply to his thoughts.
How had he done that?
“It is time,” the angel continued. “We must delay no more, for there is a time and a place for all things. A purpose for each thing that happens, that is meant to glorify the One Who Is and Was and Will Always Be.”
And then, without any further mention, any further motion, any further breathing, even, it seemed, they were transported.
Is this what it felt like to move through the mirror from one time and place to another, he wondered. Is this what Edward, and Rose, and anyone else who had ever come through the mirror, felt when they’d moved and flashed and disentangled time like a bowling ball striking down a full set of pins?
He felt himself floating, his hands letting go of Paloma’s and Jason’s, and then, as if in a vacuum that has stopped unexpectedly, dropping down.
And what he saw when he rose up – even before he moved to sit and then to stand – astounded him all the more.
John had not been kidding around.
Fifteen
Edward sensed that same stomach-curling feeling as when he’d gone through the mirror – that same peeling away of layers and putting them back together – and did his best not to heave.
Was he really experiencing this with others this time, and as a means of getting closer to God?
He landed with a grunt onto grass as soft as silk, and the color of Easter grass – a multitude of pastel hues jumbling with a myriad number of greens – and carefully stood, making sure not to hit his head on either of the trees nearby. He helped Paloma up, and waited for the others to rise, cautioning them to watch their heads.
“I don’t know what kind of trees they are,” he said, “but some of the branches are low enough a child could reach them,” he said with a smile as he tried to contain the giddiness that suddenly overcame him.
With a laugh, he tried to maintain composure, only to end up on the ground again, rolling in the plush grass beneath him in his delight, and edging closer to the tree he’d just referred to.
A few of its leaves were scattered on the ground, but they still seemed alive, as though they had been plucked rather than fallen. With care, once he was able to recompose himself, he picked a few of them up, lifted them to his face to smell and examine them.
“They’re all from different trees, at least… they seem to be, but then, how is one tree producing so many different varieties,” he said to himself more than to the others.
Lemuel and Neriah moved toward him and helped him back to his feet.
“Have you not heard of the leaves of healing,” Neriah asked pleasantly. “For these are the very leaves. If you look yonder,” the angel pointed northward, “you will see that the roots indeed reach down into a river, and that river is for peace.”
Other than the angels’ voice, and the hum of wings, Edward heard nothing. How could there be a river with no sound emanating from it? And with nothing raising droplets into the air to moisten it?
He moved back toward his family and, together, hands clasped more tightly than before, they made their way in the direction that Neriah had pointed out. The twin angels flanked them on either side, and the other five walked behind, one to a person.
If I didn’t know this was real, I’d think it was a Willy Wonka dreamland, he thought, trying not to start chuckling again.
Yes, he knew Heaven was a place of joy, but was it also a place of random laughter?
Since God was a God of order, but also the God of hope and joy, it gave him pause.
Well, only one way to find out, he thought. If I ever get up the gumption to ask aloud.
“Yes,” Ezer answered his thoughts. “It is. Laughter is nearly a protocol here, as you will likely see. Remember, laughter is a holy medicine, and good for the soul; The One has only allowed the worthy and delightful in His land.”
Then what are we doing here, Edward thought. We are all flawed, each one of us, and yet, God allows us access to this place? Surely He is so much deeper and unconditional in His love than I could have ever imagined, for His grace is beyond sufficient. Surely the sacrifice He made on my behalf – on each of our behalves – has cost Him more than we will ever know or comprehend, and His mercy overwhelms me just to ponder it.
Edward felt his knees beginning to buckle at the thought, and the angel behind him – he wasn’t sure which – caught and lifted him up again. His concentration was on where he was, and on the future, even though they were, admittedly, in a timeless sense of now he didn’t understand, he hadn’t been paying enough attention to his limbs.
His mind had raced toward things he couldn’t even put into words, and his knees had begun, of their own accord, to bend in awe.
“We fall down only before the One Worthy of all Praise,” he heard Neriah saying into his ear. The angel’s breath was hot as a flame, and a picture of a furnace came to mind suddenly.
What had these angels witnessed in the earth, and what was their purpose in Heaven? Had they traveled between, or stayed in one realm for the whole of their existence?
“You have traveled from one realm into another, and since meeting with us, a third and a fourth,” he heard Ezer reply once more to his thoughts, making him jump.
How did he do that?
It was disconcerting, to say the least.
Could all of the angels read their hearts and thoughts as easily, or were there certain heavenly messengers endowed with this gift, much as people had varying gifts of the Spirit on the Earth?
“It is so,” he heard Neriah answer his thoughts again. They moved forward, and when they reached the waters, indeed, there was still no sound.
But he looked to the river, nonetheless.
He looked at the silent, peaceful river, and it was more shades of blue and green than he could comprehend. And there were rivulets of violets and shades of white and silver intertwining within it, and it was mesmerizing.
“It is here we cross over to the other side,” he heard Lemuel saying behind him to the right. He must be behind Justice. There wasn’t anyone else on his right side; the others were all to the left.
“How,” Paloma asked, her voice louder tha
n Edward had heard it in many years, “how are we supposed to cross this river?”
“You will close your eyes, all of you,” the twin angel on the left said. Whether it was Arieh or Ari’el, Edward had stopped trying to figure out at this point. “And lean back toward the angel behind you.”
“But what does-”
“You will have to trust and see, with the eyes of your spirit and not of your flesh, and you will cross the river with no worries and no doubts. It is the river of peace for a reason. And you will find it, if you just trust.”
But how did leaning back into the arms of an angel bring them forward into the river? He didn’t understand.
The twin angels moved ahead of them when they stopped at the river’s edge, and Edward watched as they fairly glided across it.
Is that what Jesus had done when He’d walked on the water? Was it more of a glide than an actual walk? Or had there been steps taken into that dark and stormy froth the night in question?
Edward closed his eyes and hoped against hope as he tentatively leaned back. And it was true; Neriah had caught him, and then, he felt himself lifted from the ground.
He felt the spray of water and saw rainbows lighting up behind his eyes as he sensed the angel carrying him through the river. God had not called them to be like Peter, after all, walking on the water, but to be carried by His messengers, and it overwhelmed him.
Tears sprang to Edward’s eyes as he thought of the tender lovingkindness the Lord had bestowed upon them; the banner of His goodness, of His grace, and before he could comprehend what was happening, Neriah was setting him down. He could hear the sniffles of his wife nearby, and waited, with closed eyes, until he sensed it was alright to open them.
Wiping away his tears in silence, Edward waited a few extra moments and then, opening his eyes, he saw a valley before them.
A valley with the same pastel grasses, and trees, but in the center of which sat three thrones. They faced the backs of them, and yet, Edward knew in his heart, this was the place.
The Angels' Mirror Pack 2: Books Four through Seven Page 69