Tangible desperation was imprinted on her face, a hazelnut haired beauty with penetrating blue eyes. I could see through her window, those eyes almost crazed with pain. It was a beautiful day and I was sitting on my usual bench in front of her apartment building, this was supposed to be my time to unwind, my time for relaxation, but I just could not concentrate on the usually captivating Eric Wilson's, Jerusalem’s Undead book. It was amazing how eerily close he grasped the reality of the principalities struggle. But when desperation as paramount as this filled another human being, I was cursed, or was it blessed?… to also feel it.
Through her large kitchen window overlooking the small park on the first floor I could see her rummaging through her drawers, looking, looking, but thank God not finding what she was searching for. Still she was weakening by the second, the pills she had already ingested were beginning their grizzly effect.
Tears, malevolent tears stained and shimmered on those perfect cheeks. Love rejected, love scorned I knew was as fatal as cancer, and from what all could plainly see she was once too many times rejected. As I was thanking God that her search was producing only futile results, I drew in a sharp breath, Oh No!
Swiftly passing in front of me, not even sparring me a glance the blond that had befriended her in her loneliest times ran up the steps into the building not even bothering to shut the hallway door. My heart sank at this, the devil’s sick, evil provision.
“Hey Laura,” I could hear the blond say to her as the door reluctantly opened, “How’s it going? Mind if I check my email on your computer?” she cheerfully asked.
Silence, no answer, Laura was swaying.
“Hey, what’s wrong? You okay?” asked the blond with just the right touch of concern inflected in her milky voice.
“Gota headache is all, you have any asprins?” Laura slurred.
The golden beauty was reaching for her purse to search for what all in the complex new she carried. As she was doing so, another image invaded my vision.
He was immense, his feathery fearsome wings spanned out and filled the entire hall. Dressed in pure white found nowhere on this earth, his robes were flowing, he looked ethereal. At first I thought it was her guardian angel here to put a stop to this ludicrous pain. But as his face turned to me his eyes blazed, aflame with fire and sorrow. From those fiery eyes, if it could at all be possible icy tears made their treck down his strong chiseled face. He was the one, the same one who thousands of years ago visited wrath, God’s wrath upon Egypt, upon each and every single unmarked home. It was his call, his purpose, and today he had been called.
Setting my book aside I sighed, then as so often when this dreadful type of trouble passed before me, I began to hum. Soon my humming took on a soft melody, and soon words also shaped and flowed:
“Redeemed how I love to proclaim it,
Redeemed by the blood of the Lamb,
Redeemed by His infinite mercy,
His child and forever I am!”
The sky responded with a rumble, like that of thousands and thousands of trampling horses, although I doubted mortal eyes and ears could see or hear it. I looked once more to the fearsome holy angel and saw behind him dark shapes also beginning to advance, perhaps as a defiance to the rumble. Their wings were not white like his was, they were dirty and dripping blood. The Angel of Death unsheathed his sword, keeping them at bay, “Not yet, you may not proceed yet!” He commanded as he searched the heavens as if waiting for permission from the One he faithfully served, though clearly it was an order he did not want to carry out, for if he did, wouldn’t he have swiftly done it by now?
Grizzly terrifying growls were the response from the dark ones and the sky rumbled again as my song never ceased to raise like incense to the heavens.
Streaks of light began to rain down and the dark ones squirmed and tried to hang on to this realm. But the holy legions were coming, and at that moment as if a command had been received by the fearsome Angel of Death, he whispered in the blond woman’s ear, “No you may not, she has been marked.”
“No I have no medicine.” She said to Laura, retreating her hand from her purse.
Laura motioned the woman in and they went into the kitchen. The woman took a seat in front of the computer with her back to Laura. Laura however made her way back to the drawers, she reached for a knife and aimed it towards her own pain filled heart. So yet the battle raged, with the dark ones reaching for her mind even as the holy ones arrived. The battle for her soul had just begun. This melody of praise in this unmerciful storm was making the devils squirm and the angel of the Almighty were being strengthened by the purity of praise.
Laura hesitated and looked at the pictures on her kitchen walls, they were spread out all over, images of her beloved children and the battle was at a climax in her mind. She began to lower the knife as the pure ones, the holy ones began to surround her one by one, each with their swords unsheathed. One in particular lovingly covered her ears and the whispers of the dark ones faded from her mind. The knife cluttered back into the drawer and silent tears of resignation spilled and were caught in a precious bottle by one of the angels who promptly flew towards heaven. The holy one would see the face of God and that bottle would be put before His throne, just as the tears of the Israelites had been put in times long past.
The blond was ignorant to all it seemed as she tapped away on the keyboard of the computer. Laura silently looked outside her window, our eyes met for only a moment then she looked towards heaven, and for a moment I thought she may have seen and heard and felt all that I had. She sighed and looked away.
Yes indeed, it seems the battle has begun, it seems the rescue of this anguished soul has begun once more with a song. Yes, I would keep watch, for that is what I am, that is my gift, or curse take it as you may. I am a watchman, and as David sang to Saul and caused each demon of hell to flee, so I would lift my voice in a battle song. I will sing, yes I will watch and sing until the dark haired beauty would see the beauty the Master put in her. Vigilantly I will watch until she would open her eyes and see that she is this world’s Esther, Hadassah who must go before the King for her people. My melody would continue on and on until her rescue and redemption would be complete. For I am Raphael, I am her watchman.
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