The deluge of weather related prayers have continued. We angels have barely had a moment’s rest. We wish we could do more.
I had just settled under the covers after a 14-hour grind of prayer delivery when there was the sound of a giant paw banging on my door. I crawled out of bed and opened the door. 12, my massive angel friend and his brothers Chappy and Fuzzy Bacon stood in my doorway.
“Do you know what my mom did?” 12 asked. “She got someone to go to Tommy Tunes’ Dad’s house to board up his windows for him before Irma hits. She is his guardian angel. We have to help my mom aid our friends.”
I invited them inside and made them cocoa. “I understand you boys want to help people, we all do. I have even met with Mother Nature. She is one fierce witch. But there is nothing we can do.”
12 cleared his throat. “If Mommy can get Tommy’s Dad’s windows boarded up from four time zones away then there must be something we can do.”
“I wish I could think of something buddies but I can’t.”
“What if,” Chappy began, “like a team an angel superheroes we fly into the hurricane?”
I spit out my cocoa. “Fly into a hurricane? We would be knocked to Jupiter.”
“I don’t think so,” 12 said. “I have the size and strength to impede the storm, Chappy has the charm to lessen its anger, Fuzzy has the ferocity to combat it, and a hurricane is nothing but a bunch of swirling air. No one sucks the air out of a room like you Foley.” Everyone else’s superpowers sounded so much more impressive.
“Our jobs are to be angels,” Chappy contributed. “If that means flying into the hurricane in a feat of futility then that is what we do.”
“It is futile Chappy!” I said. “But, we are angels, and the job of an angel is often futile, so I say let’ fly.”
We took off that night because if you are going to do something stupid you need to do it right away before you think it through. We approached the storm from the west. 12 took the lead. We flew into the wind, and the four of us bounced off of it. We regrouped. Chappy suggested we form a spear with 12 at the tip. We flew into the storm again, and this time we penetrated deep inside of it. We were violently thrashed back and forth. 12 put his shoulder to it and tried to get it to move, Chappy tried to reason with it, Fuzzy barked at it, and I tried to suck up as much wind as I could.
We found ourselves in the eye of the storm. Chappy told us to follow him, and he found a weak spot, and we flew out of the hurricane. We landed at my house where we all curled up and went to sleep.
we awoke, we hurried to see what fury the storm had wrought. I don’t know if we accomplished anything except giving ourselves some bruises, but even if we were able to decrease the wind speed by one mile an hour, or push it just a mile out to sea, it was worth it.
Every little bit helps when the rain falls, the wind blows hard, and the tide surges.
I know, like 12, Fuzzy and Chappy’s mom everyone will do what they can to help. We are all one another’s angels.