“How’s my wife?” Marcus asked as the doctor sat down beside him.
“We’ve given her something for pain and she’s in a lot less distress than she was. She’s very tired and feeling guilty, though that is normal in these situations.” She looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry about the baby, Mr. Cole. If a woman is going to have a miscarriage, it's always best if she does so early.”
Marcus’ jaw dropped, his eyes widened. “Baby?”
“Oh my, I’m so sorry. You obviously didn’t know that your wife was pregnant,” she said softly. “She was only a few weeks along and there’s nothing we could have done to stop the miscarriage. I am sorry that I blurted that out; I pride myself on being a sensitive physician. Please forgive me, Mr. Cole.”
Marcus exhaled; unaware he had been holding his breath. “That’s okay, Doctor Phillips. I’m not certain my wife knew she was pregnant.” He closed his eyes for a few seconds before continuing. “Our daughter has been a leukemia patient over at Brannan’s Pediatric for what seems like forever, and life has been anything but normal.”
“I can certainly understand that; I have a grandson in remission for nine years now. I’m sorry to hear that your daughter has been ill. How is she doing?”
“We learned this morning that Angela is in complete remission. As a matter of fact, we were bringing her home when this happened.”
“Praise God! I’m glad to hear that your daughter is doing so well. You and your wife are still young; you can have more children if you’d like.”
“When can Morgan come home?”
“We’ll do a D and C soon to make sure everything was expelled. I’ll keep her overnight and you should be able to take her home in the morning,” Doctor Phillips explained. “We’ll give her something so that she can relax and get some sleep. I don’t think she’s slept well in a long time.”
“No, having an ill child definitely isn’t conducive to sleep,” Marcus agreed. “It’s been rough on Morgan; I think even more so than she let on.”
“Have you ever meet Brownie?” Doctor Phillips asked.
Marcus searched his memory. “Kevin Browne, the male nurse?”
“That’s him. Brownie is definitely one of a kind.”
“My daughter thinks very highly of him.”
“Not enough like him to go around, I’m afraid,” Doctor Phillips said as she got to her feet. “You can come in and kiss your wife goodnight if you’d like, and I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m sure your daughter is anxious to see you. Plan on picking her up around ten unless something happens, which is unlikely. I’m sure she’ll call you.”
***
Kenni was frustrated as she left Michael Donahue’s room. The news wasn’t good: The tests Jeb had ordered showed that the tumor in the boy’s chest was growing. Not only that, it was putting pressure on his heart and lungs. A decision would need to be made soon as to what course of treatment to take.
It broke Kenni’s heart that Michael’s condition was worsening almost before their eyes. She had stood silently in the doorway of his room while his mother, along with Pastor Dave, prayed at his bedside. Medication kept Michael comfortable and controlled the pain, but also made it nearly impossible for him to communicate.
Back in her office, Kenni closed her door. She sat at her desk, bowed her head and closed her eyes. Silently she prayed, Oh, Jesus, I know You have all the answers and we must look to You as our source. I pray that Your love and comfort will be with Lauren right now. Michael is all she has left in this world. She loves You, Jesus, and I know that Your perfect will shall be done. Of course, I don’t know what that is, so I ask You to put Your arms around Lauren, hold her close to You as we pray for Michael’s complete healing, recovery and restoration.
There was a light knock on the door before it opened. Kenni looked up to find Brownie standing there, leaning against the frame of the door.
“It breaks my heart to see Lauren going through the agony of Michael’s illness,” she said as she looked up at him. Her eyes stung from the tears that threatened to bubble up and out of her eyes, to break free and spill down her cheeks. “I should be used to this by now, but I don’t think I ever will be. I’ve seen innocent little children die in their parents’ arms, I’ve witnessed it so many times, lives that end before ever really starting. I know they go to Heaven, but it’s still hard for me to comprehend it. The loss for those they leave behind is immeasurable. If this is so hard for a believer like me, if it can make me angry, then I can’t imagine what it might be like for those who don’t believe. It’s so very, very sad.”
Brownie sat down in the chair near her desk and his lovely green eyes met hers. “Keep praying and don’t ever stop. Lauren is blessed to have you praying for her,” he encouraged. “God put you where you are, Kenni, for a purpose. You and Jeb are both important, more so than either of you could possibly guess. I know humans have difficulty understanding the whys and why-nots of life. There are many things I know that I can’t share with you simply because humans have a limited understanding of what takes place in the spiritual realm.”
“I feel so inadequate at times,” Kenni admitted. Her expression changed and she looked at him curiously, her tears retreating. “Are there truly battles fought in the spiritual realm?”
Brownie nodded. “Great battles are fought every hour of every day,” the angel admitted. “They mirror what’s happening here on earth, actually. As we speak, a battle is raging for Michael, among many thousands of battles being fought at any given moment. Sometimes even the mighty Archangel Michael himself draws his sword. Don’t lose heart, Kenni; don’t ever lose faith.”
“I pray and then I wonder if I prayed for the right thing. I try to keep in mind that it’s His will that will be done, not mine, and then I wonder if my prayers make any difference at all.”
“I admire your honesty,” Brownie complimented her. “Do you truly believe that your prayers simply float into the air, that all you’re doing is expelling carbon dioxide when you petition the Great Throne of Heaven?”
Kenni shrugged. She recalled countless prayers for children who died, for friends and relatives who never recovered from accidents and illnesses. “Sometimes it seems that way.”
“Due to the outcome, you felt that God chose not to answer your prayers, right?”
Kenni nodded. “Yes.”
“Well, bearing in mind that God knows both the beginning and the ending, don’t you think that He knows what’s best for each of us?” he asked. “Eventually, all humans experience the first death; that’s just the way things are. Sometimes, the human is a child—perhaps a newborn, or your dearest friend or relative, or someone who lives to be one-hundred-and-three. This life is temporary; you are only passing through. I know I can’t erase your anxiety, but could it be that maybe I’ve helped you to see things a little differently?”
Kenni leaned back in her chair. “It’s like I said, though, it’s frustrating when you don’t know what it is you should be praying for. This is what we have, our lives here on earth. We hate to lose loved ones, even if we know they’re going to Heaven.” She felt frustrated and unable to make her point. Having the opportunity to speak to an angel was a gift and she wished she was better able to express her troubled thoughts. “Do I make any sense at all?”
Brownie smiled at her. “Of course you do. You are human and your understanding of spiritual things is limited. It won’t always be that way.”
“Any advice you can give me, seeing as you’re the only angel I’ve met who I’ve been aware is truly an angel?”
Brownie could not tell her about Maica, the angel assigned to her exclusively for life before she was born, and who invisibly stood guard over her at that very moment. Nor could he tell her about Tyrne, who had been assigned the same duty over Jeb. “Don’t ever lose your faith, Kenni Hastings. You have more power with your prayers than you could ever imagine.”
Kenni felt better after hearing his words and managed a smile. “Thanks, Brownie. I don
’t know why I was blessed to know you as you truly are, but I realize how special a gift it is. I only wish I could share it with Jeb. I feel guilty keeping this secret from him.”
***
Morgan’s eyes fluttered open as she sensed she was not alone. Slowly the fog from the sedation induced sleep began to lift, her mind began to clear. Hours had passed since Doctor Phillips had performed the D and C. It was quiet in her room. Morgan was comfortably drowsy, but unable to sleep.
“Hello, Morgan.”
She heard a male voice coming from somewhere very close by. Startled, her breath caught in her throat as a vaguely familiar blond-haired man stood beside her bed. Her mind was still fuzzy and she struggled to remember who he was and why he was in her room. “Do I know you?”
Brownie nodded. “Yes, you know me, Morgan. Your daughter knows me as Brownie. Your husband knows me as Kevin Browne, a male nurse over at Brannan’s. You’ve had something to help you sleep so don’t be concerned that things are a bit hazy.”
“Why are you here?” she asked. He wore scrubs and his ID tag hung on a lanyard around his neck. “Do you work here too?”
“Actually I work everywhere; I work anywhere I am needed.”
“I beg your pardon?” Frightened, Morgan touched one hand to her forehead and felt for the call button with the other.
“I promise that I mean you no harm,” Brownie assured her. “I’m an angel.”
“A—what?” Morgan was certain she had misheard him.
“I’m an angel. Actually, my normal form is that of a teddy bear, but I was afraid you might be frightened if what you thought was a stuffed animal spoke to you.”
“Why would there be an angel in my hospital room, talking to me?” Morgan asked, trying to clear what she believed to be a clouded head caused by medication. “Is this some sort of trick?”
Suddenly, a sparkling light encased Brownie, like golden sparklers rising up and out while Morgan watched in both fear and fascination. When the light show ended, a large golden-brown teddy bear sat on Morgan’s bed. “No trick, I assure you,” Brownie explained. “I am an angel of God, Morgan, and I’ve come to help you.”
“Help me with what? I don’t need any help.”
“You have a secret lying deep within you, one that you’ve kept from your husband,” Brownie said softly while her eyes widened even more. “Ever since you were a little girl, you’ve lived with self-imposed guilt because Miranda developed leukemia and you didn’t. While you’ve appeared to live an enviable life from the outside, on the inside you’ve been imprisoned by a burden that never belonged to you.”
Morgan let her head sink into the pillow. “How do you know these things?” She wondered, am I in a drug-induced dream? That made more sense than having a conversation with a teddy bear.
“I know these things about you because the Lord prepared me well for my mission here on earth. I know all about Miranda, the cruel things you said to her the day her illness took that fatal turn, and the way you’ve blamed yourself for her death ever since.”
Morgan effortlessly recalled the day Brownie spoke of. She and Miranda had been playing a board game on the floor of their bedroom. Miranda was looking better than she had been in months but still tired easily. Morgan was winning the game and had become upset when Miranda announced she was too tired to continue.
“I think you got sick deliberately so that you could hog all the attention!” Morgan screamed at her sister as she got to her feet, her eyes ablaze with rage. She kicked the game, scattering its pieces and cards all over the floor. “I hate you! I hate having a sick sister! I wouldn’t care if you die, Miranda Clarke! I wouldn’t care one bit if you died right now!”
Tears welled in Morgan’s eyes at the memory that left a bitter, burning sensation she would swear she felt in her soul. “I wished her dead,” she said in a voice hardly more than a whisper. “I killed my own sister!”
“No, you did not kill your sister,” Brownie corrected her as he took her hand. “You were a child, Morgan, and found it difficult dealing with the fact that everyone whispered behind your back that Miranda was going to die. That isn’t an easy thing for anyone to handle, let alone a child, and you didn’t get any guidance from your parents.”
“I heard someone once in church, a girl from Miranda’s and my class,” Morgan recalled as tears spilled down her cheeks. “They were sitting in a pew directly behind my mother and me. Miranda was in the hospital, Morris was at a friend’s house, and Daddy had no use for church. Her name was Donna and she told her mother that it wasn’t fair that Miranda was going to die instead of me. ‘Miranda is nicer,’ she said, and I wasn’t nice, so I was the one who should have leukemia and die.”
“And you’ve never forgotten those words you overheard another child utter. You were never meant to hear Donna’s cruel words. She was punished after church by her mother—she got a spanking, I believe—for speaking that way.”
“Donna was right; Miranda was sweeter, and gentle, and kind. I was always the one in trouble because I talked too much.”
“And you’ve always believed that you were the one who should have died, like there was some cosmic mistake that took her life instead of yours.”
“She died because I told her I wanted her to! She was fine that day, until I said those words. This only happened because I was a rotten child!”
“None of you could have known that Miranda was not as well as she appeared that day. There were things happening that no one, least of all you, could do anything about. It was simply her time, Morgan; it had nothing at all to do with what you said.” Brownie leaned in closer. “Until you free yourself from this burden you’ve undertaken, one that never belonged to you, things will never improve.”
Morgan couldn’t help but ask. “How could you know that?”
“It will be easier if I simply show you.” Brownie held her hand and seconds later they were in a whirlwind of light ascending toward Heaven.
“Oh!” Morgan cried out as she felt herself be lifted from the bed. All around her, colors swirled in the most fabulous fireworks she had ever seen. Not even the magnificent display above Cinderella’s Castle at Walt Disney World could hold a candle to such a sight.
She looked down at the shadowy, gray world beneath her, watched it become smaller and smaller until suddenly her feet landed on what felt like solid ground. “Where are we?” Morgan asked. Her eyes drank in the blueness of the sky, the rainbow colors of flowers growing along the sides of a street she and Brownie seemed to be standing in the midst of.
“We’re in Heaven, Morgan.”
Morgan’s jaw dropped. “Am I…?”
Brownie chuckled. “No, you’re not dead. There’s someone I want you to meet, Morgan.” He pointed and she turned in that direction.
Morgan watched as a woman approached them. She wore a long, golden gown that sparkled like the sun. Her hair was the exact shade as Morgan’s and flowed down her back, past her bottom. She held something—it looked like a bundle—in her arms.
“Miranda?” Morgan breathed as the woman came closer. She was looking into a face identical to hers. Only one person shared her face. “Miranda!”
The other woman smiled. “Morgan, it is you! I’ve waited so long to see you again, if only for a moment.”
Morgan noticed a baby wrapped in a blanket rested in her sister’s arms and she touched her hand to her mouth.
“This is your son, he arrived earlier today,” Miranda said, looking down at the sleeping infant swaddled in a sparkling blue blanket with tasseled edges like those on Hebrew prayer shawls.
Morgan didn’t know what to think, convinced she would wake up in her hospital room having had the strangest dream.
“Sister, God has allowed us this visit so that you can finally relieve yourself of the burden of guilt you’ve carried for so many years,” Miranda explained in a voice that sounded exactly like Morgan’s, only softer. “It’s not your fault that I got sick, or that I died, and it isn’t you
r fault that Angela got sick. You must forgive yourself for a crime you never committed, to let it go and to live your life!”
“I don’t know what to say, Miranda. I’m so sorry for the way I acted that last time we were together.”
Miranda smiled. “Morgan, we were little girls. Sisters often say cruel things to one another. Nothing you said or did sent me here. If it had, I’d thank you for it!”
Morgan’s mouth fell open. “What?”
“I’ve sat at the feet of Jesus and have spent the majority of my life in unspeakable joy, so please don’t feel sorry for me. Be free of the burden you took on that didn’t belong to you. You’re alive for a purpose, so live, Morgan!”
Morgan’s head was spinning. She looked at the baby in her sister’s arms, unable to clearly see his face no matter how hard she tried to focus. It was as if his face was hidden behind pixels, like a tell-all TV show where the informant remained anonymous.
“One day when it is your time, you will see your son’s face.”
“What is his name?” Morgan asked.
“You haven’t given him one yet.” Miranda looked at the infant in her arms, then at her sister, and smiled. “In your heart, you know his name. I will look after him until the time comes when you might be reunited.”
“This is all so difficult to comprehend!” Morgan cried. There were so many questions she longed to ask.
“It’s not your time to be here, Morgan, we must go now. The Lord wished to relieve you of your guilt so He allowed you to see Miranda. Every year at Christmas, several dozen or so people around the world get to experience what the Lord has allowed you to see,” Brownie explained in a soft, yet firm voice.
Morgan nodded even though she did not fully comprehend what he had told her, and smiled at her sister. “Miranda, I love you,” she said softly as tears shimmered in her eyes. She touched her sister’s face. “Please pray for me, and for Marcus and Angela.”
“Without ceasing, my dear sister.” Miranda tenderly kissed Morgan’s cheek. “Farewell, my beautiful sister! Forgive yourself for a burden you never should have taken on. I pray that one day we’ll be together again.”
BROWNIE: An Angel's Visit Page 17