by Lee Carroll
“What I mean is, that...none of the others so far...they seemed to be guys...I mean men—er—male.” Mike wanted to rewind the episode and start over. His communication skills and any eloquence of speech were completely gone. He had failed miserably to greet this entity properly. He sighed again and simply shrugged. Violet now smiled at Mike.
“I understand fully, Michael Thomas.”
The look she gave Mike could have melted his armor. There was no romance here. The feeling was an incredible love of pure maternal essence. This is what had taken Mike by surprise. It was as though he had suddenly met his mother again; he had the sense of being reunited with long-lost family, with the accompanying joy and disbelief. It had been so long since he had been looked at like that! He wanted to snuggle up and be held. He was immediately embarrassed by his thoughts, knowing that Violet could somehow feel them as well. She continued.
“You’ll get used to it very soon, Michael. There are reasons why I look this way to you. It’s not this way with all those who travel this path, but for you it is different.”
Mike got the idea. Violet’s appearance and demeanor were for his benefit. He accepted this, but wondered why he needed to “see” a motherly angel.
“Because you earned it!” said a wise Violet. “Not everything here is just for lessons, Michael. Much of it is given in the form of gifts for your growth. You have only been through three houses, and already you stand out as one of the most special who has ever joined us here.”
Michael took that all in, but before he could think of something to say in response to the obvious compliment, Violet did something that Mike would never forget.
“Michael Thomas of Pure Intent,” she spoke softly. “Please remove your shoes.”
Mike did as he was asked. In addition, he saw that there was an area prepared at the door for one pair of shoes, and he placed his there. They fit perfectly.
“Michael, do you know why I have asked this?” inquired Violet.
Michael thought about it. “Because it’s sacred ground inside?” He remembered Moses and the burning bush, and the dialogue of that story.
“If that were the case, why didn’t the others ask the same of you?”
Mike continued to think about it; he tried again. “Because you are a very special angel?”
Violet was amused at this game and began to chuckle. Mike was perplexed. He knew he hadn’t given the right answer.
“Please come inside,”Violet said as she turned and entered the house.
Mike followed but was bothered by their conversation’s lack of closure. He called after her as he followed her inside.
“Violet, tell me. Why did you ask me to remove my shoes?”
“You indeed will tell ME, Michael, before you leave this place.” Violet continued, leading the way.
Mike didn’t like it when the angels made him wait for answers, especially when he was required to somehow figure it out for himself. Too much work, Mike thought.
“That’s why you’re here,” said Violet as she led him farther into the violet house. Mike again felt silly at his thoughts.
The violet house was very plain—unlike its host. Mike realized that in his awe of the new angel’s appearance, he had neglected to read the sign naming the house.
“Violet, what is the name of this house?” Mike asked. Violet stopped, turned, and faced Mike.
“It is the House of Responsibility, Michael Thomas.” She waited for Michael’s response, her beautiful expression one of expectation. Mike immediately knew there was trouble ahead.
“Oh,” he said, with little expression. He didn’t give Violet the reaction she wanted. She turned and continued the tour.
Mike was disturbed at hearing the name of the house. In his mind, he had conjured up many scenarios that might take place here. Responsibility had always been an ugly word, mainly because of his parents’ harping on him about this and that. They used the word a lot in a critical way. Later, he heard the same thing from women he was with, usually in combination with some kind of complaint about his actions. Why was it, Mike thought, that women were always trying to “fix” him? Then he had a horrible thought. Perhaps Violet appeared as a female in this house for the same purpose. Another woman, sent from God to change him? What if God was a woman? What a sick joke that would be! Suddenly, Mike smiled at the thought processes produced by his human maleness, knowing full well that this was not the truth. God was neither male nor female, but Mike was amused, nevertheless, by this imaginary scenario. What could the House of Responsibility be about?
Violet was leading them through a maze of smallish rooms on their way to Mike’s dinner.
“What’s in there?” Mike inquired as they came upon a set of large double doors.
“The theater,” said Violet, never missing a step.
A theater? Mike’s thoughts were racing as he continued to follow Violet. What’s a theater doing in an angelic place? Will there be a play? He had another, stranger thought. Maybe they were going to a movie! Mike thought how funny it would be if tomorrow he and Violet went to a movie together—perhaps they could see one of the many angel movies that were popular? He almost laughed out loud. Violet, knowing exactly what Mike was thinking, was very amused also—but for other reasons.
Finally, they reached their destination. The dining room and lodging areas looked similar to those in the other houses. In the closet, there were slippers for Mike’s feet and beautiful violet clothes that were obviously designed for him to wear during his stay. He smelled food. Again, he was led into a dining area that had a scrumptious selection. How did they know exactly when he was going to arrive? For that matter, Mike had never seen a single food preparer or a clean-up person. He remembered the mess that Green and he had left after their fun, and how the blueberries had stained his toes for days. Like gnomes, whoever prepared the food came and went undetected. What a place!
Mike expected to turn and find Violet gone, as the angels before had been. Instead, she was still there.
“Is everything to your satisfaction, Michael?” she asked. Violet was indeed a beautiful creature. Mike continued to be soothed by her motherly qualities.
“Yes, thank you.” Mike felt like bowing in respect.
“In the morning, we shall begin. Good night, Michael Thomas of Pure Intent.” With this, Violet exited.
This was different. Just as Green had changed the protocol by remaining on the porch when Mike left the House of Biology, Violet had done much the same thing here. Were the angels becoming more polite? Were they adopting human etiquette? Mike noted the difference but decided not to ask about it.
He ate, got ready for bed, and immediately fell fast asleep. He felt safe, warm, and loved. He would start still another adventure the next day, and he knew there would be discovery for him in Violet’s lessons. He dreamed of his boyhood, his parents, and it felt good.
OUTSIDE THE HOUSE, the dark, elusive, vile shape that was IT took a position of watchfulness. IT was both contemplative and outraged. When Michael had appeared outside the green house on his way to this one, IT had been shocked by his changes. He had grown in power, and he had those blasted weapons! Michael’s alertness was now suddenly warriorlike, and he had no fear! What had happened in the last house that would change him like that? IT seethed with anger that the chance to confront Michael had failed so miserably during the storm.
IT started to develop a better plan to trap the human. IT reasoned that if Michael Thomas had wanted to be an elusive warrior, he should have taken a less-known route instead of traveling on a known path as he did. Then, IT realized that Michael would always follow the path. He had to, since he didn’t know where the next house would be. Therefore, IT decided, the answer was to go ahead of ITs prey and wait for him to step into a trap. If IT could be said to smile, IT did. IT didn’t sleep but had visions of the imminent demise of Michael Thomas of Pure Intent.
THE NEXT MORNING was typical of all of them. It was glorious! The meal was splendid,
and Michael topped it off with a favorite blueberry muffin, shaking his head in disbelief at the freshness of it all and the wonderful flavor.
“It didn’t taste this good between my toes.” Mike laughed out loud as he again thought of himself and Green in their wild, humorous abandon in the dining area of the last house.
Just as he had finished dressing in his newly supplied clothes, a knock sounded at the door. A knock? Since when did any angel knock?
“Please enter,” said a polite Mike. Violet seemed to float in, and Mike smiled at her. “Please thank whoever is responsible for such a fine human breakfast.”
“You’re welcome,” said Violet.
“It’s you?”
“It’s all of us,” she replied. “We are not separate.”
“I’ve heard that before. Someday I’ll understand it. Until then, thank all of you,” Mike said.
“Are you ready?” Violet asked.
“I am.”
Violet turned and led the way back to the area they had passed the day before. This time the double doors were open, and Mike followed her into the beautifully appointed violet-colored movie theater! Mike stopped in disbelief. He stood amazed, and Violet chuckled.
Before them was a giant wraparound movie screen. In the rear of the room, Michael saw a modern film projector, with reel after reel of film stacked in giant metal cans, ready for showing. It seemed as if there were hundreds!
“Guess what, Michael Thomas?” asked Violet. “We are going to watch movies together!”
“I don’t believe it!” exclaimed Mike. “This has to be a joke.”
With that comment, Violet dropped her smile and looked at Mike in a serious way.
“Far from that, Michael. Far from that. Please take a seat in the front row.”
Violet went to the back of the room where she began warming up the machinery. Mike was still confused at the dichotomy he was observing. Angels don’t thread film projectors, he thought. They don’t have movie theaters in sacred places. This is very strange indeed. But he did as he was asked and took his place in the middle of the front row. Unlike movie houses where he had come from, the front row of this theater was at the midpoint of the room. He also noticed something else odd. The middle chair in the front row was plush and padded. All the rest of the seats in the room were not, almost as if they were only placed there for effect. Mike sat down in the plush violet chair and faced the giant white screen.
“What movie are we going to see, Violet?” Mike was a bit apprehensive about this.
“Home movies, Michael,” she replied, continuing to prepare the first reel, not looking up. Mike didn’t like the sound of that answer at all. He felt his stomach grip his ribs. There was that feeling again! His new intuition was working overtime, letting him know that what was coming might be unpleasant. He thought about trying humor—maybe a comment about some popcorn? He didn’t get the chance. The lights dimmed in a very professional manner; Mike heard the clatter of the projector, and the screen came to life. Mike’s eyes were glued to what he saw. His heart was in his throat from the first image.
The first film that played that day, just as all the others to follow, was of the finest reproduction quality Mike had ever seen. There was no flickering, and the image was somehow projected in 3-D, but without the dumb glasses! The sound was natural, coming from exactly where each sound should be on the wide screen in front of him, even as the characters moved from place to place. Mike instantly wished that the film was not so real. He was too close. The wraparound screen placed him right in each scene. He wanted to move back but couldn’t.
Portrayed on the screen in front of Michael Thomas was Michael Thomas! If he had to title this home movie, it would be “All the Bad Things That Happened to Me in My Life.” The film started with him as a child, and it was so real! His mother looked very young; and his father, so handsome. He was deeply moved by the remembrance of these dear ones. And the current presentation in this violet theater made them come alive to his tender heart. It was as though he were living it again! Each episode took an entire reel of film and was presented unedited in real time—just as it happened in his life, only jumping from one potent negative experience to the next.
The first few reels were actually funny. There was Mike as a cute, blond three-year-old, finding his mother’s makeup. He made a mess of the bathroom, and his mom caught him. She was very upset, and it was the first time Mike received a spanking. The seated adult that was Mike was shocked at how he actually experienced the wounded feeling of that first spanking event again. He was being forced to actually relive the emotions of each event! Home movies, indeed! This had the potential of becoming a horror show as he aged in the films. Mike was beginning to feel like a freight train was approaching—and he was tied to the track.
More childhood events were presented, each one bringing Mike into a reality that he had not thought of in years. There he was, locked in the bathroom at six years old. He remembered how that felt—it wasn’t his fault! Somehow the knob got turned, but his dad had to be called in from the field to remove the hinges. Then, there was his father’s anger and another spanking. Mike again felt the violation of trust from the events of that long-ago day. He hadn’t done anything wrong! Dad was angry and laid into him with the stinging leather of his biggest belt. It had cost his father a day’s work in the field, and it had interrupted the harvest. The adult Mike was beginning to feel depressed.
Reel after reel played, and now Mike was ten. He was bused into the city to go to school. He remembered the face of Henry, the school bully, who came back each school term to torment him. All the kids seemed to hate this big kid, but they did nothing about him. They were all afraid. Because he was a farm kid from the funny-sounding town of Blue Earth, the other kids laughed at Mike. The bully, however, was merciless. The school contained children from many kinds of families, but in these modern days, farmers were a minority. His clothes gave him away, since Mom had made all of them. He didn’t look the same as the others, and the bully never let him forget it. He and the other kids made fun of Mike’s clothes, his smell, and even his parents’ way of life.
As the projector clattered on,Mike saw the time a group of children called him over to play. He felt good about that. They actually wanted his company! Then, much to his dismay, it became a trick. Instead of including him in their fun, HE became their fun. They aligned him just right while another boy got on hands and knees behind him. Then, at just the right time, they pushed him over. He fell backwards, over the crouching boy behind him. They had a great laugh at his expense. Mike also laughed, trying to join them in the joke, but they discarded him, moving on without him when they were done.
This was painful. Mike didn’t like seeing this at all. What good was all of it? He found himself getting angry at having his private life so exposed and presented in this manner—and of having to live it all again. Wasn’t once enough?
More reels, and now he was 14—that fateful day in school when he was accused of cheating and he hadn’t. Another student had taken some papers from the teacher’s desk and put them back poorly so the teacher knew they had been disturbed. The boy who had done it pointed at Mike and said that he saw him do it. The teacher believed him; after all, Mike was just a poor farm boy, still wearing funny clothes, although his grades were very high. He was sent home with a reprimand and expelled for the day. On the way home, riding a special bus, he was thinking of how he was going to explain it all to his mom and dad. He relaxed a bit, knowing that they would believe him. They didn’t, and again Mike felt alone in his life. He knew they loved him, but he wished they had given him the benefit of the doubt when he needed it most. He felt so alone.
Mike had been in the chair for hours, but the Mike in the movies wasn’t even grown yet. He thought of how long he would have to endure this punishment. He didn’t feel very spiritual anymore. He felt as though he were being beaten up! The films were compelling in their accuracy. Mike couldn’t take his eyes or his mind away
from them. Every detail was there; every voice and person was exactly as it had been. The process was astounding, but the subject matter was disastrous!
Now he was dating, and there was a lot to see! His clothing was still odd. Even though it was store-bought, his mother didn’t understand fashion, and purchased weird combinations and materials. The girls at school and at church thought Mike was cute, but he overheard them making fun of his clothes. He was devastated! It wasn’t long after that experience that Mike, then 16, began saving his allowance and started buying his own clothing. That’s when his self-esteem started to grow, for Mike knew what looked good on him. He made a study of it and always brought along a girl acquaintance or two to help him shop. The girls loved that! Just think—a guy who liked to shop! It was the beginning of his big metamorphosis from teenage geek to handsome, desirable young man. His personality changed along with it, and Mike became more self-assured. His grades remained high, and he was involved in many school activities. Then, it happened—a smear campaign by someone jealous of Mike caused him to lose the school’s presidential election in his senior year. They said he had been caught in the girls’ lavatory doing obscene things. Everyone wanted to believe it. It was so sensational—and completely false. The election had been a shoo-in, since he had been president of his sophomore and junior classes, too, but the rumor mill won, and Mike lost—big. It also cost him the affections of Carol, his first real heartthrob. She wouldn’t speak to him; he mourned the event for weeks and dropped out of all school functions. He had been victimized again! There it was in full “blow-by-blow” detail on the screen in front of him. The event dragged on in real time, showing every awful aspect of this part of his life. It changed Mike then, and it further weighed on him now, as he sat reliving his past.