Samuel watched from a distance. From heaven’s view, things were simpler. Clearer. Unobstructed by the clamor of everyday life. He peered through the stars, assessing the once familiar landscape.
What he saw stirred concern. He remembered his first assignment here. The region had a sparkle to it, a glow. Now a pall had settled on the city. Entire neighborhoods were hidden by shadows.
But still there were beacons of light. Like spires alit with gold, they punctured the darkness, streaking past Samuel and into the heavens.
It’s dusk, Samuel thought, but not night. Not yet.
He took note of an embedded glow and set his eyes on the source. The corner of the Higher Grounds Café. This place had been prayed for and prayed over.
The Father won’t relinquish this territory easily, not without a fight. And I love a good fight!
Prayers move God. And God moves angels. So Samuel was being sent. Other angels had more experience. Other angels had more strength. But no angel in heaven could match Samuel’s resolve. This was his first solo mission.
“Sammy,” he said to himself, “time to fly.”
He grasped the hilt of his fiery saber and lifted his small frame to its full height. He tightened his muscles, squinted his eyes, leaned forward, and speared earthward. The wind rushed his hair straight back. As he broke through the clouds, he spotted the figure of Chelsea sitting on her porch and wondered what role she was going to play in this unfolding saga. He was, after all, her guardian angel.