When one spends a lot of time in the company of angels the return to earth is accompanied by an unavoidable thud. Everything is suddenly so depressingly ordinary.
After days, then weeks passed wandering around in a dazed state of languorous self-pity, bemoaning the depth of my loss, it was time to get back to work.
I thought about the barely begun, largely abandoned sequel to Awakening. I’d been on a two year detour ever since Michael’s strange introduction into my life, but it appeared as if the firstborn were done with me for the moment. I hesitated to publicize too freely my newly acquired availability; that whole ‘open for business’ sign in my head often produced unpredictable results. On the other hand, if God had some as yet unrevealed plan for me for the coming months, there wasn’t much I could do about it. Certainly it was no secret to Him that Michael and his fallen brother were no longer taking up so much of my time.
I was relieved when He told me there was nothing pressing He wished for me to accomplish at the moment. I was tired. Communing with the angels had its moments, but it was invariably draining. The human psyche was not designed to spend more than a few brief moments at a time in the company of those so far above from where we lingered along the evolutionary scale. It was going to take a little time for me to recover…and to forget. Having man’s failings paraded before my eyes and hearing about the eventual apocalypse was not conducive to going about the day to day routine of normal life. It wasn’t so much the prediction itself that was unsettling. That was old news. Just read the Book of Revelation for all of the gory details. It was the certainty with which such prophecies were delivered that was disturbing. Especially considering the source of those predicting man’s unfortunate future were more likely to be in the know about that sort of thing than your average prognosticator.
So in this case I was quite happy to fall back to earth and immerse myself in the story of my young adult novel. Not that I could completely escape my past. I was, after all, writing about what it was like to come of age and realize the world isn’t what you thought it was…a tribute to the three women who held my hand while I peeked behind the veil as a child and guided me along my way until I was the only one left to carry the torch of our unusual family history and pass it along to the next generation.
Sometimes I wonder what other people see when they look out on the world. Is it a world where there are no angels? A world that consists only of those things that can be verified by our five, limited physical senses?
There was a price to pay for seeing what others didn’t. But the price of not seeing seemed so much higher than the one I paid.