New Wings

by Donna Stanley

  “When the time comes and I’m able to pray you through a battle, I’ll be there for you,” I stated.

  The concept sounded rather backward, since he was the one that was supposed to help me. But, then again, weren’t we beings with the same Creator, fighting the same battle? I wasn’t sure how that concept would play itself out, but I had a feeling I’d end up in a dual battle with this creature, someday—one way or another, side by side—and we’d equally cover each other’s backs. Goose bumps rose on my arms. I knew prayer was my best weapon. That would be some heavy-duty praying. Or would more be required?

  “Sister in battle?” He offered his hand as if to shake mine, but instead grasped my forearm in a shake I’d seen guys do in movies involving brotherhood or battalion comrades. I returned his grasp and squeezed his lean, muscular wrist since that was as far as my small hands could reach.

  My eyes fastened on the tiny pouch at his side. Before I could ask him about it, his form was gone.

  I blinked in the darkness, looking for a slice of light coming from the door.

  I had no desire to dance. I walked out of the storage room, meandered through the crowd, and headed toward the parking lot. I’d see if Christina was outside since I could not spot her among the throng inside.

  Christina came running down the steps behind me, yelling my name.

  I turned around.

  “We’ve been looking all over for you. Where have you been?”

  “Settling a little score with Andy.”

  Christina’s face brightened. “Did your guardian angel bust his butt for attacking you that night?”

  I smirked and shot one eyebrow upward. “Totally.”

  “Awesome. What happened?”

  “It wasn’t really Andy who attacked me that night. A spirit possessed him—one that Mike, my angel, knows well. They’ve had runins before.

  But Mike assured me I’d never have to worry about this creepy spirit again. God gave Mike the authority to send his enemy straight to a place called the abyss. I guess it’s a place they can’t escape. ”

  Christina placed her hands on her hips and wagged her head back and forth. “Wow. Wish I could’ve seen that.”

  “I did. It was scary. Especially when four angels, including Mike, caught me spying on them during the whole exorcism thingy they did.”

  She leaned in. “Four angels? Cool.”

  It was sort of awesome watching those angels surround Andy.

  “I don’t feel like hanging out tonight. Is that OK?”

  “Sure, no problem.” Christina waved her hand as if to say, “Go.”

  “See you at school tomorrow.” I hugged Christina, who then turned to go back inside.

  I scrounged into my purse for my keys as I walked to my car. I opened the door and slid in, but before I even got the keys into the ignition Mike appeared in the passenger seat in human form, wearing his red, long-sleeved shirt and jeans.

  Ahh . . . that’s better. I didn’t care for the scarred, armored Mike. I felt like a close friend had just popped in to hang with me.

  I leaned across the console and wrapped my arms around him. He returned my hug with a squeeze, then disappeared, leaving my arms hanging limp in my lap.

  I slapped the seat where he’d sat. “Why’d you do that?” I growled.

  I heard a belly laugh coming from somewhere. I wasn’t sure of the location.

  “Ha!” I said, expelling all the air from my lungs. His laughter broke through the stress that had lingered from the scene I’d just witnessed at the dance. I was thankful that Mike had put me at ease in his lighthearted way, which I’d become used to.

  As I drove home, I felt the tension in my shoulders peel away with each mile, although I still hoped that Lagarre was gone for good. But I wondered if his companions would return for revenge. Was tonight an end of a battle or the start of a new one?

  Chapter 22

  ARAPPING NOISE ON my bedroom door jerked me awake at eight thirty.

  There should be a rule against waking anybody before nine on a Saturday morning!

  The door knob clicked as it opened, and Christina’s face peered at me.

  “Hey, Christina,” I said in a drowsy voice, hoping to make her feel guilty for waking me up. She knew I hated getting awakened early on Saturday mornings.

  “Eden just called. She told me her dad is trying to get some teens to come help at the homeless shelter today.”

  Not today. Not after last night and that whole ninja angels scene.

  I squinted at Christina, then flopped my head back onto my pillow.

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  I vaguely remembered Pastor mentioning that last Sunday. No way was I going to a place like that. And I surely never thought Christina to be the type that would light up at that idea. Then again, she was the risk-taker. And she had all that “new Christian” energy and drive.

  “I want to go. Will you go with me?”

  I was glad to hear Christina’s excitement about serving the Lord, and I didn’t want to diminish it. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Great! I’ll start finding some clothes for you!”

  “Wait!” I groaned as she began rummaging through my drawers, looking for something for me to wear.

  I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my feet dangling near the floor. The idea of getting close to dirty, smelly homeless people made me shudder. Yeah, I’d just watched four angels beat up a demon in a storage closet and watched it ooze weird-colored blood the night before. But homeless people? They scared me more. I didn’t know if they were good or evil. At least with demons and angels it was pretty obvious. Were they homeless because they were drug dealers, drunks, or deadbeats?

  That’s pretty harsh. How judgmental!

  I didn’t want to think about it. So I decided to get up. I pulled on sweat pants, a hoodie, and sneakers I’d left on the bathroom floor the night before, totally ignoring Christina’s creation of a wardrobe. When I came out of the bathroom I saw Mike sitting on the edge of my bed.

  “You should go to the shelter with Christina. And no, Christina can’t see or hear me.”

  Of course he knew what I was thinking.

  I’m really not into this. I ran a brush through my hair.

  Guardian angels could be a bother sometimes. “It will help Christina grow in her faith,” Mike chirped with an opened-mouthed grin. He put his hands over his head, with his thumbs and middle fingers touching to make the shape of a halo. “And it will help you get over your fear of homeless people.”

  I’m not afraid. Just not interested.

  Christina turned around and looked me up and down, then tossed the clothing in her hands on my bed. “I’m going to go downstairs and make some toast. Do you mind?”

  “S-sure.” I waved her out the door.

  After I heard Christina’s feet land at the foot of the stairs, Mike continued. “Why aren’t you interested in helping homeless people?”

  I wasn’t ready for a lecture this early.

  I leaned against my dresser and crossed my arms. “If you’ve been with me my whole life, you should know.”

  He rested his arms on his knees. “Are you talking about that trip to Philly when you were nine?”

  I walked into the bathroom and brushed my teeth and applied some light makeup so I’d look more awake than I felt.

  Every time I saw a homeless person, I thought about the day my mom took me to Philadelphia. Even now, the scene was as vivid in my mind as when it happened.

  We went to an art museum, the Liberty Bell, and Independence Hall. At the end of the day we ordered Philly cheesesteak sandwiches in the train station. After eating half of mine I put the rest in the wrapper and walked with Mom toward our departure area.

  When we reached the platform I saw a wrinkly man crouched in a corner, wearing a torn, stained jacket and scuffed, holey shoes. His white beard was stained with brownish-yellow streaks. When we got close he grabbed my arm.

  I screame
d.

  Mom pulled me away. “How dare you touch my daughter!” I’d never heard my mother talk like that to anyone. It scared me.

  “I’m sorry,” he said in a scratchy voice. “I didn’t mean to frighten the girl.”

  “Then why did you grab her?” She stared at the man like he was a rattlesnake about to strike.

  “It’s just that . . . I’m so hungry. I haven’t eaten in three days.”

  I wanted to give him the rest of my sandwich, but I was too terrified to move.

  “Come on, Olivia. Let’s get away from his stench.” Mom jerked my arm so hard I dropped the sandwich. “Get a job,” she screamed over her shoulder.

  While she dragged me away from the man, I turned and saw him struggle to his feet and pick up the sandwich I left behind. He was missing a leg.

  I turned to watch the train, but I couldn’t block the image of that man from my mind. He was alone, with no one to help him. What if my daddy lost his job? And his leg? Would he have to sit in a cold train station, begging little girls for half a sandwich?

  As the noisy train came to a halt I reached into my coat pocket and grabbed the change Mom had given me for spending money that day. I dribbled it onto the sidewalk behind me, hoping the homeless man would find it, knowing Mom wouldn’t hear it over the noise of the screaming brakes that filled the subway station.

  “I’d think that experience would make you want to help people in need,” Mike said, interrupting my memory.

  I placed my toothbrush back in its holder on my sink and spit. I wiped my mouth on the towel hanging by the sink and said, “It did, at first. But on the train ride back Mom kept talking about people who didn’t want to help themselves. She went on and on about how hard my dad worked and how he’d never ask for a handout. She told me not to give any money to homeless people because they’d just spend it on drugs and beer.”

  “Not everyone who’s homeless is lazy. Most want to work and would if they could find jobs. In most cases, life circumstances or the actions of others have brought them to this point.”

  I couldn’t argue with him. But I was still scared to go to the mission.

  “Look, plenty of other people help at the mission. Why do I need to?”

  “There are far more homeless people at shelters than those volunteering to help.” He tilted his head. “Probably because so many have the same misconceptions and fears you do.”

  A wave of guilt ran over me. I had a roof over my head and a warm bed, and my belly was pretty much always full.

  A Bible verse came to my mind. Jesus said, “Whenever you did to one of these things, to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me.” I grinned at Mike. “You put that Scripture in my head, didn’t you?”

  “Uh, no, that would be the Holy Spirit. It’s Matthew 25:40. You memorized it at camp two summers ago out of The Message. That new, modern version of the Bible they had there. Everything you put in your mind can be pulled out when you need it.”

  I thought about the verse. Basically Jesus was telling His disciples that whenever they helped people in need they were helping Him. I closed my eyes and asked God to forgive my selfishness. When I opened them, there stood the old man from the train, his piercing blue eyes staring at me. I gasped and stepped back.

  After a flash of light he stood on two legs instead of one this time. His tattered green clothes turned into a three-piece white suit, and his hair became a long, blond mane. White wings spread out from behind him. His wrinkles faded. The only thing unchanged was his beautiful, ice-blue eyes.

  “Mike?” I knew it was him. He had used a powerful, creative way to demonstrate how the man could have been an angel in disguise.

  “Remember Hebrews 13:2. You learned it at camp that same week. ‘Be ready with a meal or a bed when it’s needed. Why, some have extended hospitality to angels without ever knowing it!’”

  “That was you at the train station?”

  “I gave your cheesesteak and coins to a real homeless man that day.”

  I felt like someone had just leaned a warm pillow against my heart.

  My sweet, generous angel.

  God, You created a wonderful being. Thank You for sending him to help a homeless person that day so long ago. I want to do that too.

  “I’m glad I dropped that sandwich—and the coins.” Apparently I’d had a faith test in my childhood—and passed.

  “I still have a few of the coins as a memento.” He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out three quarters. “That was a precious moment. Your heart was soft even back then.”

  I stared at the coins in his palm. I couldn’t believe he’d kept them all these years. “I’m still scared to go to the mission.”

  “That’s OK. It’s in terrifying moments that you see Jesus the clearest.”

  I knew he was right. I’d go, knowing God would make me strong. And Christ would work through me.

  “Hey, where’s that leather pouch you had on you that night at the dance club?” I asked.

  Mike’s expression went sullen. He rubbed his chin. “Umm—it’s a secret weapon.” He avoided my gaze.

  “For what?”

  Mike disappeared. Instead of being annoyed at his sudden exit, yet again, I clamored to the bedroom door and yelled down the stairway so Christina could hear me in the kitchen. “I’m coming down in a second.”

  Shoot! I hope I didn’t wake Mom and Dad up.

  I shut off my bathroom light and quickly made my bed, then shut my bedroom door behind me and walked down the hallway, treading lightly so it didn’t creak loudly just in case Mom and Dad were still asleep—doubtful. I tiptoed down the stairs and entered the kitchen. Christina was spreading peanut butter on her toast.

  “I can’t wait. This is going to be so much fun.” She licked the peanut butter off the knife and set it on the plate with a clink.

  “Yeah. Fun.” I grabbed my purse off the hook near the back door in the kitchen.

  Christina handed me two pieces of toast with peanut butter and jelly between them. She’d wrapped the sandwich in a napkin for me. I’d eat it on the way.

  “Let’s go!” Christina grabbed her purse and keys off the kitchen table, and we went out the front door and got into her car, which was parked at the curb in front of my house. We both slipped in and shut the doors. Christina held her peanut butter toast in her mouth while she put her purse in the seat behind us and turned the ignition.

  There was no turning back now.

  Christina pulled her car into the church parking lot at ten. My stomach did a flip-flop. I was really going to have to be around homeless people.

  You can do this. I tried to believe my own pep talk as we got out of Christina’s Camry.

  Five men gathered around a table in the lot filled with coffee pots. They were drinking from foam cups just outside the entrance to the church.

  Seven middle-aged ladies stood in a circle by the front of the bus, wearing pleated pants and floral button-up shirts. I felt out of place in my black T-shirt, distressed jeans, and scuffed-up sneakers.

  Christina and I were the only teens I saw. Everyone else looked to be at least thirty. I guessed most teens had other things they’d prefer to do on Saturdays. I’d been guilty of the same thing. But I suddenly felt as if God were smiling at me and Christina like a proud Father.

  Eden’s dad waved to me from the church steps. I waved back. Gee, I’d never seen him in jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers before. He looked—normal. I guessed I figured pastors wore suits every day of the week. It would look really tacky going into a shelter dressed like that anyway. I was no longer ashamed at how I was dressed. Who knows—maybe I’d blend in better having not tried too hard to look anything but comfortable.

  Eden came out of the front door of the church and hurried over to us from across the parking lot. “I was worried you weren’t coming. It’s almost time to get on board.”

  As we approached the bus the ladies greeted us with wide smiles.

 
An older man wearing a red baseball cap, who looked to be in his sixties, opened the bus door from the outside, then boarded the bus and sat in the driver’s seat. He waved us in.

  “All aboard,” Pastor shouted. He stood at the bus door as we all got on.

  As Christina and I passed him, he said, “Thank you both for coming.”

  “I’m scared but excited,” I replied.

  He laid his hand on the center of my back and gave me a reassuring rub. “You’ll do great!”

  Somehow I believed him.

  Christina shook his hand and followed me up the stairs into the bus.

  I walked to the back and took a seat. Christina and Eden sat in the seats in front of me.

  As we rode to the shelter, people’s conversations were garbled by the roar of the engine. As I did most mornings when riding the school bus, I stared out the window and watched the cars go by.

  I wondered how many homeless people would be there. Would they smell? Would I be able to keep from wrinkling my nose at the stench?

  What would I say to them?

  God, help me do a good job today. Help me encourage at least one person.

  Our ride progressed from the country setting where our church was to a four-lane highway, then through congested areas cluttered with row houses and industrial buildings. We came to a stop in front of a red brick building with graffiti on the front and a yellow awning over the front door with words printed in black: Water Street Mission. A chalkboard on a pedestal at the curb read “Soup kitchen today at noon.”

  I started to twirl my hair and nibble on a nail as I spotted several people in tattered clothing and dirty faces leaning against the outside of the building.

  Would they be nice?

  Just smile at every single one that catches your eye.

  Pastor led us to the front door, where he greeted a man in a green wool sweater with shoulder-length, unkempt, gray-and-brown hair. He gave us one of the warmest smiles I’d ever seen. His blue eyes sparkled almost like Mike’s. “I’m Mac. I’m so pleased you all have come to serve lunch today.”

  He shook everyone’s hand. When he shook mine his calluses rubbed against my soft skin. This guy must be a hard worker.