Guardian Angels: Part Nine

Hello Readers!

I know, it’s been a while, and you may have forgotten what is happening to our poor characters that have been placed at my mercy. Well, slowly, Rebecca Smith, who is our guardian angel character, is turning into a human, and in order to be free from her human form, she has to bring justice to Harrington, a murdering pirate, before the sun rises. Her companion, Leuitenant Henry White, is trying to help her, as he was falsely accused for Harrington’s crime, and is now imprisoned along with Miss Smith in the pirate’s brig, sitting on a collapsed bench. Here is the link to the previous part, just in case you need a better refresher.

Now, I have been slowly adding to this story over who knows how long since I’ve posted the last part, just so you don’t think I forgot about it.

I stood rubbing my rear end for a little bit. “That actually hurt.”

White looked at me in shock. “You mean you felt pain?”

“Yeah. How do you humans stand it?”

“We don’t always.”

“I guess this means we need to hurry.” I said ruefully.

“Hurry doing what?” White sat down on the bench, which he had remember to put the legs back on this time. “We’ve already tried hurrying.”

“What do you do when you don’t know what else to do?” I asked him thoughtfully.

He thought for a minute. “I guess we pray.”


“Yeah. It’s how we talk to God.”

“Oh.” I nodded my head. “I had forgotten you can’t actually talk to Him.”

White knelt on the damp wood floor and pressed his hands together. He looked at me, and I quickly followed. Then he lowered his head and closed his eyes. I did the same.

“Father,” White’s voice startled me, “show us Your will. We need You to reveal Yourself to us, for we don’t know what we’re looking for if You don’t. Help us to do Your will.”

The silence that came after it sent a shiver down my spine. The silence wasn’t natural. God always answered when He spoke to me before. But then, I hadn’t spoken to Him in a while.

“Maybe He didn’t hear you.” I suggested.

White sighed, his eyes still closed.

We knelt in silence for several minutes, and my mind turned to Yahweh. His greatness, and my smallness. His majesty, and my worthlessness. His goodness, and my wickedness.

When the silence grew too oppressive, I spoke. “Yahweh, glory be Your name above every name. You are the Creator, the Divine worker of the ages, whose existence is the only one that must be, for if You are not there, who is? Where would be the beauty of the heavens, or the mystery of the Earth? Where would be the purpose of our lives, if not to praise You in every thought, word, or deed? Are we not made to worship You?

“LORD, let me worship You now. I don’t understand Your ways. You have made me as I am, as a human, incapable of rising to heaven until this task is completed. I don’t know why, and I have begun to fear, and draw away from You. You are not close anymore.” My voice wavered, and my throat felt tight. “You have withdrawn Your Spirit from me. Please LORD, draw nearer again.” My eyes began to sting. “I am nothing without You. Please answer me with Your voice, even if it should condemn me to eternal damnation, I would hear You once more.” A tear dripped down my face. “Please.”

The last word came out in a whisper.

When I had stopped sobbing and had dried my eyes, I lifted my head. “How long does it take for Him to answer?”

White shrugged. “It varies. Sometimes it is almost instantaneous, and other times it takes years. Sometimes He says yes, other times no. Still more times He says, wait.”

“Has he answered you yet?”

“No,” White said with a slight smile, “how about you?”

I shook my head.

“Well, He doesn’t talk directly to you, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

“How does He answer prayer then?”

White held his chin in his cupped hands. “By Divine Providence, I suppose. Sometimes He puts the answer into other people’s heads, and they tell us, or something happens that prevents us from doing one thing, or something happens and we have to do one thing. Things like that.”

I sighed. “So, nothing clear.”

White chuckled. “Nope. A lot of it is guess work, but quite a few of our questions can be answered if we read what He wrote.”

“You mean that Book that the true followers of Yahweh read?”

White nodded. “We call it the Bible.”

“Yes, I know. Surely you know that men wrote it, and men translated it, and men copied it over and over again.”

White smiled. “And surely you know that Yahweh is capable of preserving His Word that He breathed into the hearts of men.”


White sensed my hesitation and pulled out a small black book from his jacket. “Here. Take it.” He thrust the Bible in my hands.

At first I shuddered as it touched me, as though Yahweh’s hand might be touching mine, but no such feeling moved me. It was just an ordinary book. I opened it and read a few of the words aloud. “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” I flipped a few more pages. “It is not good for man to be alone.” I looked up at White. “It’s true. I heard from Yahweh’s own lips that He created everything, and nothing that was made was made apart from Him, and I heard with my own ears when He took counsel with Himself and made Woman for Man.”

White nodded. “Read more to the back. The beginning is a sort of history of Israel, but the back is the story and teachings of God incarnate Jesus Christ.”

“Yes, we always wondered what Yahweh was thinking when He sent His beloved Son to earth in the form of a Man. If you had seen Him in His full glory, or even just His feet, you would weep and plead for mercy from Him just because He suffered Himself to be born as you were.”

“I don’t doubt it.” White turned the Bible to the back. “Here, read this.”

I began where his finger pointed. “For God hath not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” I skimmed through the next few verses until I read one that struck me. “But is now made manifest by that appearing of our Savior Jesus Christ, who hath abolished death, and hath brought life and immortality unto light through the Gospel.” I looked up at White with bright eyes. “Yes! I remember that day! I was watching over the soul of a dying child who lay by her mother’s side, and Death came, as I knew he would, but the meeting was somehow different. He seemed less solid, more timid, like he felt shaken in his purpose.” I fell quiet, remembering how another mother sat peacefully by her dying child’s side, humming a tune sung by Christians. She did not fear Death. I though of the many Christians that had come over the River of Death singing and praising God, and I knew that Christ’s Gospel had done this.

“He really did this.” I said in a hushed whisper. “These words are true.”

“Of course they’re true. God told men what to write, and they obeyed.”

“And this Bible can tell you the answer to your prayers?”

“Sometimes. If you need to know whether it’s right to do something, look and see whether or not God commanded you to do or not do it.”

“And it is always clear?”

“No.” White ran his fingers through his hair. “Not most of the time. Most of the time you really have to search, and then you seek wise counsel, and then you pray some more, and then you keep reading, and asking, and praying until your prayer gets answered.”

“But I don’t have a long time. I’m sure that the night is almost over.”

White gently laid a hand on me. “’God hath not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.’ Don’t give up on God. If He wants you to do something, He will give you the ability to do it, if you trust Him.”

“I trust Him.”

“Good. Now, how about we think about what we can do.”

I nodded, and we sat in silence.

Slowly his arm started inching towards me, our fingers almost touching. I looked at him, then at his fingers, and he quickly retracted them.

It was then that we heard the footsteps and the clatter of keys.

We are getting closer to the end now. I think there will only be tops three more parts, but that could change. I don’t want to drag this out much farther.

I have gotten a lot of feedback from another one of my stories lately that has to do with multiple themes. I tried to think of what the Guardian Angel theme is, and I think I know what it is, but I want you to let me know what you think it is first. I’ll post the official theme in the next part.

Let me know the theme, since I have to put an italicized reminder down here. 🙂



4 thoughts on “Guardian Angels: Part Nine

  1. I’m guessing the main theme is keeping our focus on God/trust. However, I can see several different themes this story could take on. Thanks so much for sharing this story! Keep writing!


  2. Pingback: Guardian Angels: Part Ten | Reflections on Glass

  3. Hey!! I’m gonna be completely honest, ok? 🙂 Here it goes: This excerpt would be very comforting and touching if Miss Smith was a real, genuine human, but since she isn’t, I’m confused. And I’m not really sure what I’m confused about. I kind of think I’m confused because I can’t really relate to Miss Smith because she’s an angel and I’m not. I don’t really feel “connected ” to her. Does that make sense? 🙂
    This part was really well written, and I love the part when White mentions that God preserves His word.
    Much Love, Maddie Cait


    • Yeah. It makes sense. I don’t feel connected to her either, to tell you the truth. I feel more connected to White than Miss Smith, and that is partly why I don’t feel compelled to put in the effort to really polish this story up into something worth reading over and over.
      So, yes. I feel it with you. But I either don’t know how to fix it, or I don’t see a reason to fix it. If, however, you tell me you want to see me put a lot of effort and sweat and tears into this story to get it readable, then I’ll try to. 🙂


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