....There
was no longer
room...
not even near the
door...
Then they came
to Him,
bringing a
paralytic
who was
carried
by four
men.
And when
they could not
come near
Him
because
of the crowd,
they uncovered
the roof
where
He
was.
[Mark 2:2-4]
************************
"LORD?
Wasn't that guy
really MAD?"
[PATIENT VOICE.]
"Who,
child?"
"The GUY.......
with the ROOF?"
[PATIENT NOD.]
"Ah."
"I mean.....
the HOUSE MUST'a
BELONGED TO
SOMEBODY!"
[NOD PATIENTLY.]
"SO,
WASN'T HE KIND'A
MAD?"
[PATIENT PAUSE.]
"What does
My Word
say,
My precious."
"IT DOESN'T SAY!"
[NODDING.]
[WATCH A SUN SPOT
STORM, ON THE SURFACE
OF THE SUN.]
"It just says...
JESUS WAS IN
SOMEBODY'S HOUSE!"
[CALMLY NODDING.]
[BECKON TWO
HUGE ANGELS INTO
THE THRONE ROOM.
THESE TWO ANGELS ARE
BOTH WARRIOR ANGELS;
THEIR FACES ARE
GRIM AND HANDSOME,
AND THEIR
HAIR IS KLINGON-LIKE:
VERY LONG, AND
TIED-BACK WITH A
ROUGH STRIP OF LEATHER.
THEIR HUGE,
MULTICOLORED WINGS ARE
TIPPED WITH A METAL-LIKE
SUBSTANCE SIMILAR TO STEEL.
IN THE RIGHT HAND OF EACH
OF THE HUGE ANGELS IS
A MAGNIFICENT SWORD,
OF SOLID GOLD. UPON
ENTERING THE THRONE
ROOM, EACH KLINGON-
LIKE ANGEL IMMEDIATELY KNEELS
BEFORE THEIR
HEAVENLY KING.]
(Squint at the ceiling.)
"So.....what HAPPENED?
Did the guy..
SUE...
HIM?"
[LISTENING INTENTLY
TO ONE OF THE WARRIOR
ANGELS, WHO IS SPEAKING
OF A PARTICULARLY
BAD SKIRMISH,
SOMEWHERE
OVER PERSIA.]
[TURN BACK,
TO CHILD WHO IS
SIPPING A BOTTLE OF A ORANGE
CRUSH, AND STICKING
HER HAND IN A PLASTIC
BOWL FILLED WITH
MINI-PRETZELS.]
"Who,
child?"
(Impatient squirm.)
"The GUY,
who got HEALED!
The one, whose
FRIENDS TORE
UP THE OTHER
GUY'S ROOF!"
"Ah.
I see."
[NODDING INTENTLY,
AS THE OTHER WARRIOR
ANGEL IS TELLING HIS
HORRIFIC TALE.
THIS PARTICULAR
ANGEL HAS RED HAIR: IT
GOES DOWN THE MIDDLE
OF HIS HUGE MUSCULAR
BACK, AND IS TIED WITH
A STRANGE-LOOKING,
PIECE OF HIDE.]
[HOLD HAND UP, TO
MAKE BOTH ANGELS
WAIT FOR FURTHER ORDERS.]
[GAZE DOWN, TO
CONTINUE CONVERSATION
WITH THE CHILD WHO
IS GULPING THIRSTILY
ON HER ORANGE CRUSH.]
"Perhaps,
that is not the
important thing,
child."
(Snort with laughter.)
(Drop a mini-pretzel
on the floor.)
"Well......to HIM,
it WAS!"
(Bend down to
pick up pretzel:
hold it up,
for a moment,
to let cat
lick it.)
"...The poor
guy, with
the ROOF!"
[PAUSE A MOMENT,
TO GIVE MORE ORDERS
TO THE HUGE, KNEELING
ANGELS. THEY SIMPLY
NOD, AND DO NOT SAY
A WORD. BOTH ARE
BARE-FOOT; THE ANGEL
KNEELING BESIDE THE
RED-HAIRED ONE HAS
LONG, DARK, AND VERY
STRAIGHT HAIR; HIS
HIGH, SCULPTURED
CHEEKBONES HAVE A
TOUCH OF SWEAT ON
THEM. HIS INTENSE
DARK EYES, DEEPLY
IN SHADOW,
NEVER MOVE AWAY FROM
THEIR MASTER'S FACE.]
[TURN FOR A MOMENT,
TO CONTINUE SPEAKING
LOVINGLY TO THE
PLUMP CHILD STUFFING
TWO MORE MINI PRETZELS
INTO HER MOUTH.]
"Who,
child?"
(Irritable glance.)
"The ONE,
whose ROOF,
it WAS,
LORD!"
[NOD.]
[HOLD A HAND UP,
GIVING ONE MORE
COMMAND TO BOTH
OF THE WARRIOR ANGELS.]
[AFTER BOWING
DEEPLY, EACH ANGEL
SWIFTLY TURNS AND
DEPARTS: THEIR BARE
FEET NOT MAKING A
SOUND AS THEY LEAVE
WITH GREAT AND
MYSTERIOUS PURPOSE,
FROM THE THRONE ROOM.]
[PAUSE.]
"What did
you learn
from this story,
child?"
(Squint.)
"Eh......if you're
gonna bring a
friend to JESUS...
always give yourself
extra TIME,
afterwards.....
to repair the ROOF?"
[PATIENT NOD.]
[WATCH AS THE
GATED DOORS OF THE
THRONE ROOM CLOSE,
UPON THE DEPARTING
WARRIOR ANGELS.]
[QUIET VOICE.]
"Perhaps,
it is
well
worth
the
extra
time."
********************
So when
they
had broken
through,
they
let down
the bed
on which
the paralytic
was lying.
[Mark 2:4]
__________________
In memory;
Joan Maile.
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