Angels Everywhere - Debbie Macomber [25]
Goodness agreed with a sharp nod. “Being around humans for any length of time is enough to make any angel go stir-crazy.”
Shirley did a poor job of containing a smile. How well she understood her friends’ frustrations. Most of her career had been spent working with humans. “Just don’t ever volunteer to work as a guardian then,” she suggested. The stories she could tell!
“Can you help us, Shirley?” Mercy asked.
Her friends’ faces were both tired and gloomy, and Shirley didn’t know if she had any words of wisdom to offer them. “I can try. Tell me what’s happening.”
Mercy and Goodness exchanged glances. “You go first,” Goodness suggested.
“I’ve already told you about Leah’s day. I’ve spent most of my time observing her, and frankly, I haven’t gained a lot of insight into her personality. She holds her pain deep inside herself, unwilling to give up even the smallest portion of it, as if it were something of value.”
Shirley thoughtfully mulled over this information. “If that’s the case, it seems to me she must find joy before she finds peace.”
Stubbornly Mercy folded her arms and frowned and her chest lifted with a gigantic sigh. “Gabriel didn’t say anything about joy. All he mentioned was peace. Who exactly does he think I am, St. Peter?”
“Perhaps that was the problem with the other prayer ambassadors. They were looking for shortcuts as well.”
“Oh, all right,” Mercy said ungraciously. “But how am I supposed to teach her about joy? Joy, peace, what’s the difference?”
“What are Leah’s favorite things?”
Mercy frowned. “It’s difficult to tell. She enjoys her home, but she’d gladly relinquish it for the chance to be a mother. While she was with her friend this afternoon, they talked quite a bit about Pam’s kids. A spark shone from Leah as they discussed the children, especially her friend’s three-year-old. I think she said his name was Scotty.”
“Children,” Shirley repeated, her thoughts deep and grave.
“But that’s the crux of the problem, don’t you see,” Mercy said, and the expression in her eyes changed, becoming more intent. “She doesn’t have a child so she holds fast to her disappointment. The child will bring her the true joy, and I doubt that anything else will.”
Goodness had grown especially quiet. “What if you brought a child into her life for a short time, like a weekend or something? You could manage that, couldn’t you?”
“I suppose.” But Mercy didn’t sound overly enthusiastic.
“If she had a taste of deep inner happiness, she might be willing to release a portion of her pain,” Goodness added. “It seems to me what Shirley’s saying is that what Leah really needs isn’t an absence of sorrow, or a feeling of gladness. Earthly joy wouldn’t accomplish your purpose. Leah needs a connection with heaven.”
“Yes,” Shirley shouted with her excitement. She couldn’t have said it better herself. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
“In other words,” Mercy said slowly, thoughtfully, “if Leah would be willing to take hold of a . . . higher level of joy, then she might be willing to release her disappointments and frustrations.”
“Exactly,” Shirley said and Goodness echoed, “Exactly.”
Shirley realized they made it sound simple, but she didn’t envy Mercy her task. It was little wonder so many other prayer ambassadors had been defeated by Leah’s problem.
Mercy stood and was pacing in front of the huge church organ, sending longing looks toward the antique instrument. “Anyone have any other suggestions how I’m supposed to accomplish this?”
Shirley was silent and so was Goodness.
“Don’t worry, I’ll think of something,” she offered brightly. “I always do.”
“Let me tell you what’s going on with Monica,” Goodness said next, looping her legs over the arm of the chair and tilting her head back with a dramatic flair. She sighed and placed the back of her hand against her brow. “She’s enthralled with this . . . this private investigator. The choir director might as well not exist, and Michael’s perfect for her, just perfect.”
“What about Chet?” Mercy asked. “He might not be as bad as you think.”
“He’s not for Monica,