The Island of Heavenly Daze (27 page)
Resigned to Winslow's burst of enthusiasm, Edith settled back onto the couch and lifted the lid of the family shoebox. Scattered photographs littered the bottomâshots taken on family vacations in Vermont, Florida, and at the Grand Canyonâand several plastic bags bulged with slides.
She smiled as she opened one of them. They hadn't taken slides in years; but right after Winslow bought the projector, that was all he'd let her take. “Photographs fade over time,” he'd said, “but a slide is smaller and can be stored in a dark place. With the new technology, honey, we can revisit our memories every night.”
They'd used the projector a total of five times, so eventually Winslow had allowed her to buy print film again. But at least a year of their lives lay stacked like cards in this bag.
She pulled out a handful of slides and picked up the first one, then held it toward the lamp and squinted at the image. The shot showed Francis standing before a Christmas tree in his long pajamas . . . cute red jammies with feet. As the image focused in her memory, she could see Francis again, a four-year-old boy with a red fire truck, as excited as any child at Christmas. The year was 1980, Ronald Reagan had just been elected president, and she and Winslow were pastoring their first church, the congregation in North Carolina . . .
She dropped that slide into her lap and pulled out the next one. An image wavered in the firelightâWinslow with his new set of Old Testament commentaries. She'd had to grocery shop with double coupons for six months to save enough to buy the set, but the scrimping had been worth it when Win smiled.
“Honey,” she said, shifting her gaze to the wing chair, “do you still have the set of Easton Bible Commentaries?”
“Of course,” he answered, slipping another slide into the viewer, “great stuff on Habakkuk.”
Edith rolled her eyes and lifted another slide to the light. For a moment her eyes widened, then she grinned. By clipping a small moment out of time, the slide had inadvertently preserved a part of her husband she hadn't seen in a long time . . .
The slide was a picture of her, taken in a moment when a camera-toting husband was the least thing she had expected to encounter. The occasion was that same Christmas morning in '80, and she'd been in the kitchen, still wearing her short red nightie and a Santa Claus cap. She'd been standing at the stove, a pancake turner in hand, when Winslow and Francis crept around the corner and yelled, “Boo!” As Edith sprang back from the counter, her eyes and mouth opening wide, Winslow had snapped the picture.
The memory was like a film rolling in her mind, and Edith closed her eyes to savor the replay. Winslow had been fun in those days, much more spontaneous and relaxed. That first church was as small as the Heavenly Daze congregation, and Winslow had been pleased to consider himself a shepherd of a flock. His trust in God had been unshakable, and as they lay in bed at night he had often told Edith that the size of the task didn't matter nearly as much as faithfulness to one's calling. “I may be only a little tree in God's forest,” he had whispered in her ear, “but I'm going to be the best little tree I can be.”
Edith opened her eyes to the steady sound of Winslow's slides clacking against the projector's plastic ring. Girding herself with resolve, she stood and walked to his chair.
“I found something that might interest you,” she said, handing him the slide in her hand. “Take a look at this.”
“Something good?” He popped the slide into the viewer, then he blinked, his features twisted in an expression of annoyance. “I thought you were giving me the Holy Land.”
Edith stepped away. “I was giving you a memory,” she whispered, an odd twinge of disappointment striking at her heart. “I was giving you
me.
”
Her words hung in the silence for a moment, and when he looked at her again, she knew she'd made her point.
“Honey,” he said, twisting in his chair to see her better, “I'm sorry.”
“It's okay.”
“No, it's not. I didn't mean to hurt you. It's just that I'm trying to do some new things, and I don't have much time to waste. If I'm going to get Habakkuk's second complaint ready by tomorrow morning, I don't have time to go tripping down memory lane.”
Edith bit her lower lip, thinking thoughts she dared not voice aloud. So . . . time spent with her would be wasted?
She drew a deep breath and moved back a step further. If she were a newlywed, such a remark would have cut deeply, but she was older now, and wise enough to know that Winslow didn't exactly mean what he said. He loved her, and he loved spending time with her.
But sometimes the man didn't have a lick of sense. He may have graduated in the top ten percent of his class, but when it came to handling people, there were times when Winslow Wickam had a lot to learn . . .
But it wasn't her place to teach him such things. Some lessons a man had to learn in God's classroom.
“Go on with your work, then,” she said lightly, moving back toward the couch. “I'll just clean up these things, then I'm going to bed. By all means, take all the time you need for Habakkuk's second complaint.”
And just ignore the fact that your wife has a few complaints
of her own.
G
avriel brushed a cobweb out of his hair as he descended the steps, then turned the corner of the church's basement fellowship hall. The other angels were already gathered around the table, their heads bowed in prayer over a large round pizza.
“Amen,” Micah said, and every head lifted. In unison, the angels reached for slices of the pizza, then gingerly lifted them toward gaping mouths.
“Just once,” Elezar said, scraping a clump of cheese from the cardboard box, “I would like to enjoy a pizza right out of the oven. It's always cold by the time it comes over on the ferry.”
“You'll have to bake it yourself,” Caleb interrupted, grinning. “And I don't think I want to sample anything you attempt to bake.”
“Abner could bake it.” This observation came from Zuriel, who was gingerly plucking slices of pepperoni from his pizza pie. “After all, he's mastered cakes and pies and doughnuts.”
“I don't think the Wester sisters would appreciate me bringing the scents of sausage and tomato sauce into the bakery,” Abner answered, grinning. “Just yesterday Birdie fussed at me for leaving my sweat socks by the door. She said the customers would find them odorous and unappetizing.”
The group chuckled, then fell silent as Gavriel's shadow loomed across the table. He took advantage of the quiet. “I'm glad you're all here,” he said, letting his gaze fall upon the pizza in curiosity. Because he materialized so rarely, he did not often eat . . . and he had to admit that the circular pastry in the center of the table did emit a tantalizing aroma.
With an effort, he lifted his gaze back to the faces of his colaborers. “I'll be going to the Lord soon. Any special requests?”
Abner lifted his hand and waved it slightly. “Birdie fell down the back steps this afternoon. She wasn't badly hurt, but she twisted her ankle. I need to know how the Lord wants me to assist her.”
“I would imagine that he wants you to lift as much of the work load as possible,” Gavriel answered, “but I'll be sure to ask if there is any more specific direction.” He turned toward Caleb. “Anything new with Annie and Olympia?”
“They're making great progress,” Caleb answered. “Edmund is being protected by the Spirit, of course, and the Spirit is granting Olympia the strength and grace she needs.” The angel looked pleased. “Annie has returned to Portland, but she promises to return every weekend to look after her tomatoes. I have great hopes that the two women will come together according to the Lord's plan.”
Gavriel looked to Micah, who worked as the gardener/ handyman at the bed and breakfast. “All quiet in your part of town?”
“All is well, but it could be better,” Micah answered. “The pastor stopped by to see Russell Higgs, but Russ was out on the boat. I'm doing all I can to convince him to return to church, but right now his mind is closed. I'm hoping the Spirit will help him learn to open his heart.”
Gavriel nodded, then looked to Zuriel. The reclusive angel did not often have much to say, but he had formed an intimate bond with his youngest charge, Georgie Graham. “Is all in order in the Graham household, Zuriel?”
The angel pushed a wisp of brown bang out of his eyes and squinted through his glasses. “Georgie is learning to take the promises in the Word to heart, and his injured toe is healing nicely.” He sighed. “Can't wait for the next crisis.”
Gavriel smiled in approval. “Very good. And Elezarâ'' he turned to the angel who lived in Vernie Bidderman's spare room. “How is your assignment faring? Do you need guidance from the Lord?”
Elezar flashed a broad smile. “Always, but we seem to be on course for now. Vernie is as independent as ever, but she has no idea we are protecting her from harm. Yesterday I was able to prevent a stack of boxes from falling on her.” He winked at the others. “She's a tough old bird. I can't help but love her.”
“We love all those the Lord loves.” Gavriel smiled as he looked at his comrades.
“What about you, Gavriel?” This came from Abner, who had resumed eating his cold pizza. “How goes things with the pastor?”
Gavriel lifted one massive shoulder in a shrug. “He's . . . confused. I think he's feeling threatened, and he can't seem to trust that God has his best interest at heart. The Lord has a good plan for him, a plan of hope and peace, but Winslow apparently doesn't see it.”
“Will you have to intervene?” Abner asked.
“I'm not sure. I'll ask the Lord tonight.” Gavriel looked around the circle. “Anything else?” When no one answered, he drew his wings in close to his side and nodded soberly. “I'll be off, then.”
But before he left, he reached out and plucked a clump of cheese from the pizza box and dropped it in his mouth.
Odd, that mingling of cheese and tomatoes. Why did humans find it so appealing?
Flying through celestial space faster than the speed of sound, Gavriel zipped through the second heaven and entered the bright realm of the third. Angels saluted him as he passed, and the bright light of the throne room gleamed from on high.
After passing through the majestic portals of pure white stone, Gavriel entered the Holy Place. There he saw the Lord sitting on a lofty throne, with the glory of his presence filling the temple. Hovering around the Master of the universe were mighty seraphim, each with six wings. With two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with the remaining two they flew, hovering in midair. In a great chorus they sang, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty! The whole earth is filled with his glory!”
Gavriel had entered the throne room on many occasions, but the music of the seraphim never failed to move him. The glorious singing shook the temple to its foundations, and the entire sanctuary filled with white smoke that billowed over the floor in a near-steady stream.
Approaching the majestic throne, Gavriel bowed his head. “Almighty Lord, I have returned from Earth, where you sent me to perform your will.”
He waited, his heart still, for an answer. Human ears could not have picked up the answer when it came, but a willing angel's heart hears what human ears cannot.
“Pastor Wickam?” Gavriel looked toward the glorious presence on the holy throne. “I know he is struggling, but his heart is open. I will do whatever you command.”
Jesus the Christ, the physical manifestation of God, stood from the throne and gazed at Gavriel. “I know what Winslow Wickam is feeling,” Jesus said, his bright eyes shining with love. “The human heart is a fragile thing; it breaks easily. Winslow is afraid, Gavriel. His fear has confused him, and in that lies a danger. He is a shepherd, and a confused shepherd can be blinded to real trouble in the flock. Help him. Guide him, keep him safe, and lead him in the path of understanding. While the Spirit works on his heart, protect his path so he will not lead others astray.”
From where he stood, Gavriel could feel the weight of Jesus' gaze, dark and tender as the sea at dawn. “You should appear at the church early tomorrow morning,” the Lord said, his voice a low rumble that was at once powerful and gentle. “You will find Winslow Wickam there, and he will need your help. We must do all we can to be make certain this shepherd does not lose his way.”
Gavriel bowed his head. “I rejoice to do your will.”
“Before you go,” Jesus added, his eyes darkening in love, “tell Caleb that Edmund's earthly days are growing short. He will soon be needed to bring my beloved home.”
Gavriel's heart stirred as the angelic chorus rose in a divine symphony. “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty!” sang the seraphim. “The whole earth is filled with his glory!”