By Gay N Lewis
Merciful heavens! Getting acquainted with adult teachers in a high school is one challenge, but hang with the kids too? Sarah, heaven’s little love angel who is known for bungles, has dealt with children and enjoyed them, but teenagers? My stars! They are a different ballgame. She doesn’t understand their jargon, clothes or hairdos. And mood swings? Forget it. She knew nothing about them—nada —zippo. She’d seen and heard them from above—even wondered at times why they existed on the same planet as adults. They were unique and interesting, but to mingle with them? Not a chance would she choose to do so—well, not until her latest assignment. Why would the Superiors send a bumbling angel like her to help a shy teenager find a date for a high school prom? Poopty doopty! A nightmare is about to happen.
Copyright 2016 Gay N Lewis
Sarah paced on her cloud while she waited for the sun to set. At least she hadn’t been sent back to the Houston area during the scorching summer. Temperatures for south Texas in late March meant warm weather, but at least this season didn’t remind her of Hades.
Early spring brought a myriad of budding shrubs, and hiding behind one at night should be no problem—unless a dog found her. Remembering an attack from a canine brought shivers to her spine. While on a mission to help Beth Marsh, a widow, find a male companion, she’d pretended to live in a house she’d assumed was vacant. Unfortunately, the home she chose had a huge Rottweiler as a protecting resident. Sarah had vanished just as the animal snatched a bite of her ankle. Oh horrors…the memories!
As the sun disappeared, she set about making plans. In The Heavenlies, Sarah had no need for time clocks. Time didn’t exist there, but based on the moon’s position, she supposed it about ten o’clock in this realm. Slipping into a residential area, she appeared as a young man. She chose jeans, a sleeveless black t-shirt, and covered her bare arms with tattoos. She then called forth a guitar. If anyone asked, she’d be a rocker looking for a concert venue.
Good! No one saw her as she left the bushes and set her destination to a nearby convenience store. She’d discovered, on other missions, a few helpful people in those stores who could tell her how to locate addresses.
She strutted in, carrying the guitar, and approached the male teenager at the counter. “Evening. I’m lost. Got a gig over on Cali Street in Katy. Can you give me directions?”
“Sure. You aren’t far.”
Imagine that. She’d been close to Katy all along—a first for her—well, that should save time.
“Go down this street two blocks.” The teen pointed with a thin finger. “Turn left and drive four more streets. When you come to a house with a red mailbox, take a left on that corner and go another street or two. You’ll come to it.”
Sarah widened her eyes. Good grief! How would she remember all that? He’d given no names of locations, just numbers and gestures. He was almost as bad as she was with such things. “Uh…sorry…not sure I copied all that. Could you write it down?”
The guy grabbed a pad and drew a stick map. “Here you go. What group are you with?”
Sarah coughed. Group? Did he mean band? Wonderful—just great. God didn’t like the truth stretched. What to say? “I’m a loner musician. Just show up. Carry my guitar with me just in case I’m asked to play and sing.” The loner and musician part happened to be true, the other stuff questionable, but she needed to act out the subterfuge.
“I try a little guitar myself. Maybe you could give me a lesson. Would you play something before you go?”
Oh, boy! Just what she needed. Why did she show up with this instrument? She played a harp—for goodness sakes—not a guitar. And sing rock? No way. What to do now?
“Uh…no, don’t think so.”
“Aw, come on. I gave you directions. Let me hear you on that guitar. I’m stuck in here working and can’t go anywhere. Just one song.”
Sarah strapped the guitar to her body, bounced up and down as she listened to the beat of a silent drum and then let out a loud, strident howl. Wahagababa! The wail sounded similar to a wolf caterwauling with his paw caught in a trap. After the vocal introduction, she placed hands on the guitar and proceeded to strum the instrument to complete the effect. Wang! Twang! Plunk! Two strings popped loose. “Sorry. Need to fix that. Thanks for the map.” Turning, she ambled away.
“I hope no one is paying big bucks to hear that dude sing.” The clerk’s muttered words reached Sarah’s ears as she opened the door.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Gay N. Lewis has a background in video production and interior design. Her credits include Psalms from the Mountains, and The Canadian Rockies. As a pastor’s wife and Adult Bible Study Leader, she has written numerous church programs and newsletters. She is a mother of three daughters and four grandchildren and lives in Fulshear, TX., a small town west of Houston.
Find Gay on the web at www.GayNLewis.com or by visiting her on Blogger at http:gaynlewis.blogspot.com or on Facebook atwww.facebook.com/GayNLewis and also on Twitter @GayNLewis2.