~ written by Charles
Tazewell ~
Once
upon a time ~ oh many, many years ago as time is calculated by men ~
but which was only Yesterday in the Celestial Calendar of Heaven ~
there was, in Paradise, a most miserable, thoroughly unhappy and
utterly dejected cherub who was known throughout Heaven as 'The
Littlest Angel'.
He
was exactly four years, six months, five days, seven hours and
forty-two minutes of age when he presented himself to the venerable
Gate-Keeper and waited for admittance to the Glorious Kingdom of God.
Standing defiantly, with his short brown legs wide apart, the
Littlest Angel tried to pretend that he wasn't at all impressed by
such Unearthly Splendour...and that he wasn't at all afraid. But his
lower lip trembled...and a tear disgraced him by making a new furrow
down his already tear-streaked face ~ coming
to a precipitous halt at the very tip end of his small freckled nose.
But
that wasn't all. While the kindly Gate-Keeper was entering the name
in his Great Book, the Littlest Angel, having left home as usual
without a handkerchief, endeavoured to hide the tell-tale evident by
snuffing. A most un-angelic sound so unnerved the good Gate-Keeper
that he did something that he never done before in all Eternity. He
blotted the page! From that moment one, the Heavenly Peace was never
quite the same...and the Littlest Angel soon became the despair of
all the Heavenly Host. His shrill, ear-splitting whistle resounded
at all hours through the Golden Streets. It startled the Patriarch
Prophets and disturbed their meditations. Yes, and on top of that,
he inevitably and vociferously sang off-key at the singing practice
of the Heavenly Choir, spoiling its ethereal effect. And being so
small, it seemed to take him just twice as long as anyone else to get
to nightly prayers. The Littlest Angel always arrived late...and
always knocked everyone's wings askew as he darted into his place.
Although
these flaws in behaviour might have been overlooked, the general
appearance of the Littlest Angel was even more disreputable than his
deportment. It was first whispered among the Seraphim and
Cherubim....then said aloud among the Angels and Archangels that he
didn't look like an angel. And they were all quite correct. He
didn't. His halo was permanently tarnished where he held on to it
with one hot little chubby hand when he ran...and he was always
running. Furthermore, even when he stood very still, it never
behaved as a halo should. It was always slipping down over his right
eye. Over his left eye. Or else, just for pure meanness, slipping
off the back of his head and rolling away down some Golden Street,
just so he'd have to chase after it!
Yes,
and it must be here recorded that his wings were neither useful nor
ornamental. All Paradise held its breath when the Littlest Angel
perched himself like an unhappy fledgling sparrow on the very edge of
a gilded cloud and prepared to take off. He would teeter this
way...and that way...but after much coaxing and a few false starts,
he would shut both of his eyes...hold his freckled nose...count up to
three hundred and three...then hurl himself slowly into space!
However, owing to the regrettable fact that he always forgot to move
his wings, the Littlest Angel always fell head over halo!
It
was also reported and never denied, that whenever he was nervous,
which was most of the time, he bit his wing-tips. Now, anyone can
easily understand why the Littlest Angel would sooner or later be
disciplined. And so, on an Eternal Day of an Eternal Month in the
Year Eternal, he was directed to present his small self before before
an Angel of the Peace. The Littlest Angel combed his hair, dusted
his wings and scrambled into an almost clean robe...and then with a
heavy heart, trudged his way to the place of judgment. He tried to
postpone the dreaded ordeal by loitering along the Street of the
Guardian Angels...pausing a few timeless moments to minutely pursue
the long list of new arrivals...although all Heaven knew he couldn't
read a word.
And
he idled more than several immortal moments to carefully examine a
display of aureate harps, although everyone in the Celestial City
knew he couldn't tell a crotchet from a semiquaver. But at length
and at last he slowly approached a doorway which was surmounted by
pair of golden scales, signifying that Heavenly Justice was dispensed
within. To the Littlest Angel's great surprise, he heard a merry
voice singing! The Littlest Angel removed his halo and breathed upon
it heavily...then polished it upon his robe...a procedure which added
nothing to that garment's already untidy appearance...and then
tip-toed in!
To be continued...Part 2
Merle
Baird-Kerr...penned December 26, 2014
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