Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2258195-The-Faithful-Servant
by brom21
Rated: ASR · Short Story · Spiritual · #2258195
Someone special gives an account of has ultimate task of protecting.
I stand among the falling leaves in a forest playground full of children. I look to them and understand why God loves them so much. I watch their parents converse with each other about trivial worldly things like their occupations, money, cars and of course gossip. I sometimes I wish children never grew older; it would be peace on Earth, but that is not how God made things and he has His reasons for everything.

I watch over the children and adults oblivious to my presence. A crying baby lay in a stroller with its mother trying to comfort the infant. I walk over to the child and place my hand on its forehead and the holy power granted me by The Most High satiates the infant and it quiets.

The mother smiles and shakes her head, at a loss. I looked across the plot of forest and smile at something most profound! A man taught his son from a Bible the story of the Garden of Eden. And what better place, right in pure nature.

I thought about those first seven days when I witnessed the gracious creator speak life into existence. All like me rejoiced. But alas, those days were short lived when the great deceiver came and seduced man and his helper.

Yet I digress. I focus on the joy around me. I watch a boy go down a slide and land on the ground. A Monarch Butterfly lights upon a daisy in front of him. He grasps for the flying insect, and it flutters away into the sky. Ah, what a wonderful metaphor for the man who struggles inside the cocoon of the world and into the metamorphosis of the spirit rising into heaven.

I roused myself from my reverie, and I sensed it-a dark foreboding essence ebbing into the peaceful scene. I pull out my sword of fire and scan the area. Farther away in the darker of the small park, two glowing red eyes glared at me.

I spread my white feathery, wings and I dart through the air at the evil eyes. I stopped before a being in a dark hooded cloak. It took out a sword of fire but of black flame.

“Insolent pawn!” it said.

“Flee this place, evil being! The Lord rebuke you!”

The dark being raised his blade and stepped forward.

My righteous wrath infused me and my flaming sword intensified five-fold. The dark being stepped back and disappeared into the shadow. I sheathed my sword and went back to my post. I was glad there was no battle lest another being of darkness take advantage of my absence.

Once again, I went back to my admiring of God’s beauty. A bright red cardinal perched on a pine tree. It reminded me of the precious blood of my master who shed His blood for man. Hours passed and late afternoon came.

Another angel descended from the sky, alight with God’s glory. “You are to guide the family surnamed Smith as they go home. I will watch this place.”

I bowed and walked along the side of two parents and three little boys. Soon they walked on a sidewalk full of graffiti and teenagers in torn jeans and deep frowns. One had a knife and began to near the Smith family.

I wrapped my wings around them and my invisible power deterred the minds of the ruffians. They stared but could do nothing else. I protected them for three blocks until the came to their small home with a grassy yard. I shepherded them into their home and then stood guard.

Twilight drew near and the man of the family pulled out a lawnmower and mowed his yard. I stood watch in front of the lawn, on guard for any hostiles.

When the man was done, dark came, and he entered and I followed him. The mother had made lintel soup for dinner. The family of five sat at a table and prayed over their meal. I saw something only apparent to me. It was the presence of God that filled the house like a cloud, with glistening speckles.

They prayed a simple prayer of protection, to be holy and to thank God for provision and favor.

After eating, the mother put her children to bed and prayed over them. Another angel appeared next to me. His name was the Angel of Death and he held a sharp sickle.

“Why are you here?” I said.

“The soul of the youngest child is required.”

If I were human, I would have cried but angels do not weep. Neither did I question the angel’s command. Not that we were apathetic or callous, we just knew God’s will was always right.

I stepped aside and the Angel of Death held his sickle over the child and his spirit came out of him. The death angel took the boy’s precious soul and disappeared.

The boy’s parents would need comfort. And I would be there to do that.

The next day came and the mother entered. After she kept nudging the boy, she realized his spirit was gone. She cried and the father came in and his wife told him. They wept together for some time but my hand lay upon them the whole time and I spoke to their souls, reassuring them they would be together again someday.

The next day I was reassigned to be an angel of spiritual warfare. I would never forget the Smith family.

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