Harriet sat bolt upright at the sound. That could only be one thing, Gabriel’s Trumpet. It had been a long time since that had been used. She checked her monitor and saw an urgent message had just arrived. Opening it, she realized it was from the ‘big guy’ himself. No mistaking it, the little angels fluttered across the screen as the message materialized.
It read, “Harriet, George needs you down in Binghamton. Take care of him.” It was signed with just his initial, “G.” This had never happened before and she had a full schedule for today. She was only halfway through her other emails and there was the report on reclaiming another section of heaven. New arrivals had the oddest ideas about what heaven should be like. Too many Cecil B. DeMille movies, she thought. Scanning her calendar, she realized she could put off the report until tomorrow since it wasn’t due until next week and the prayer answering could be shifted to Marty, her assistant. He had gotten pretty good at separating the sincere from the insincere and not going overboard, giving people everything they wanted immediately. That cleared her morning. Read more