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What happens when you pray?
by Julie Michaelson
08/08/12
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Hear
my prayer,
O Lord;
Let my
cry
come to
Thee!
[Psalms 102:1]
****************
Time: Right Now.
Place: Heavenly Throne Room.
Characters: The Elohim, and several of
the Mail-Angels.
_____________
(Gentle Knock.)
(Knock.)

[FATHERLY NOD.]
"Come IN!"

An airborne, beautiful angel,
whose softly-colored, lilac-scented wings
are still open in flight,
sweeps into the Throne Hall, and immediately falls face
down on the gold tiled
floor; his long wavy golden hair spreads out behind his folded wings: sparking in the Light of the Lord. In both outstretched hands is a small bowl made of pure diamond. In the bowl is a tenderly folded, tiny piece of lavender-colored
onion skin paper.

[FATHERLY NOD.]
"You may READ,
Emailion."

Another angel, who
has been kneeling
in front of the Thrones on a big yellow pillow,
gets up and pads over to
the beautiful angel
who is still kneeling
face-down on the floor.
He crouches down, and whispers
something to the
beautiful angel.

The beautiful angel
gives a barely perceptible nod of
his lovely head: his
warm glowing halo
doesn't move over
his sparkling golden
hair.

Emailion gently reaches into
the left pocket of the beautiful angel's star-studded,
gauzy gown,
and draws out a small
crinkly bag. Then
he plucks the lavender-colored piece of paper
from the beautiful angel's
blue-diamond bowl, and turns
and pads back over to
his big yellow pillow
by the Thrones....
and kneels once more.
He looks up.
"May.......I,
FATHER?"

[NOD.]

Emailion sets the
small lavender-colored,
onion skinned paper in
his gauzy gowned lap,
and gently rips open
the small, dark brown,
crinkly bag. He takes
a small, rounded, bright yellow object out of the bag,
and puts it between
his lips. Then he begins to munch.
Then he looks back up
at the Thrones: still
munching.
"Angel Beautific always gets me a bag
of M&M's when he
flies down to Earth,
FATHER! He knows...
I don't get OUT.....
much!"

[FATHERLY SIGH.]
"Go on,
Emailion......
READ."

Emailion sets down
his Earth-present,
but not before putting his finger in
the dark crinkly bag,
again, and pulling out
another rounded object: this one is
bright red. He puts
it between his lips,
and then pulls out
another object out
of his right pocket.
It's a pair of small, wire-framed glasses.
He opens up the frames, while munching on the nutty M&M,
and squints into his reading glasses.
Then he sets them
on his little nose. He
picks up the lavender
slip of paper, and opens it.
He squints
again, and then begins
to read.
"LORD? Can I have
some more.......
WISDOM?"
Emailion looks up:
squinting through his
reading glasses.
"Which BOWL.....
....should I PUT
it IN,
FATHER?"

[FATHERLY FROWN.]
[PAUSE.]
[POINT TOWARD
THE BIG BOWL ON THE FAR LEFT
BESIDE THE FLOWING RIVER OF
LIFE.]

Emailion gets up
and pads over to the
big emerald bowl on
the far left of the
Thrones. After making sure that all
corners of the onion-
skinned paper are perfectly folded back, he carefully
sets it in the emerald
bowl, and pads back
over to the his yellow
cotton pillow, and picks up his crinkly
brown bag, and tucks
it into his gauzy pocket, and then
kneels there quietly,
and folds his small
hands in his lap.

[SILENCE.]

[JESUS GENTLY
CLEARS HIS THROAT, AND GLANCES OVER TO HIS LEFT.]
[HE SPEAKS IN A
QUIET VOICE.]
"Father.....
I don't think that
was an unreasonable
REQUEST......"

[GRUFF FROWN.]
"She has ENOUGH
wisdom! WHAT
has she done with
what We have....
GIVEN.....her!"

[JESUS SIGHS,
AND GENTLY FROWNS.]
[HE LOOKS UP,
AND BECKONS TO
ANOTHER MAIL-
ANGEL WHO HAS
JUST LIGHTED DOWN ON
THE THRONE ROOM DOORSTEP.]

This angel is beautiful
too; he is darker,
and has close-cropped
hair, curly black hair.
His wings are brightly
gem-colored, and his
shiny halo gives off
the light scent of
cinnamon. He is holding a small bowl,
made of turquoise,
in both outstretched
hands. Immediately,
upon flying into the
Throne Hall, he kneels
face-down on the golden floor:
not speaking a word.

[FATHERLY NOD]
"You may read,
Emailion!"

Emailion gets up
from his yellow cotton
pillow. This is twice
in five minutes: unusual for Emailion.
Each person on Earth has his own
assigned prayer-reading angel,
in the Throne Room;
Emailion is the reader
for this particular
child of the LORD's.
During an Earth-Day,
Emailion might have
one or two...or three...
or maybe four.....
short readings. Other angels might
have to sit up straight,
while kneeling, for
long stretches at a time:
reading lengthy, very wordy
long paragraphs of praise and worship,
and very complex, lengthy prayer-requests:
some of which take
long twists, and turns.

At most, Emailion
only has to sit up
straight for one or
two Earth-seconds.
His human-charge doesn't seem
to like making numerous,
long prayers. Emailion
feels an odd kinship
with his charge, though he has never
set eyes on her. He wonders if she, too,
likes M&Ms with Nuts.
Emailion pads over
to the beautiful, very
dark angel, and crouches down to him:
gently whispering in
his ear, also.

This angel is
named Charles, and has large
sparkling dark eyes:
humerous and kind.

The beautiful dark
angel shakes his lovely head, and chuckles:
his brightly
gem-colored halo
bounces a bit, up and
down. Then he reaches in his right
gown pocket, and pulls out a frosty can of grape soda.....and holds it
up to Emailion.

Emailion turns around
and glances at the
Thrones.

[FROWN.]
"READ,
Emailion!"

Emailion turns back
to the beautiful dark
angel, and dutifully
takes the cinnamon-
scented, beige onion
skinned, folded paper
out of the turquoise bowl. Tucking the
frosty can of grape
soda in his right gown
pocket, Emailion
pads back over to his
yellow cotton pillow
and kneels, dutifully.
He pulls out his glasses, again, and
sets them on his little
nose. Then he begins
to read.
"LORD?......."
Emailion stops reading, and looks up:
an innocent look on his
small plump face.

[SIGH.]
"You MAY,
Emailion."

Emailion sets down
the cinnamon-scented
little paper in his
lap, and then pulls out
the frosty can of grape soda. He pulls
the tab: making a bubbly, popping noise.

[JESUS GIVES
A PATIENT SIGH.]

Emailion lifts the purple-colored, frosty
can to his lips, and
slurps. He slurps,
again. He burps. He
looks up at the Thrones, and then looks down at his lap.
He burps, again. Then
he picks up the cinnamon-scented onion-skinned paper,
once more, and reads.
"LORD..........?
Can I have a DATE
with the Archangel.......
MICHAEL?"
Emailion looks up.
"Which bowl.... should I PUT it in,
FATHER?"

[LONG, OMINOUS PAUSE.]
[POINT, RATHER
GRUFFLY AND STERNLY, TO THE
FARTHEST BOWL,
MADE OF TINFOIL,
ON THE FARTHEST
LEFT OF THE FLOWING RIVER OF
LIFE.]

Emailion, keeping his
small head dutifully
bowed, and stopping for a moment to right
his beige-colored, dimly lit halo, pads
over barefoot, and
carefully sets the
little piece of paper
in the tinfoil bowl. In
the bowl are several
other pieces of paper:
smelling of morning-dew-on-summer-grass,
chocolate donuts-just baked,
rootbeer soda, and the litter
box of a month-old
kitten.

Then Emailion turns
and pads quietly back
to his yellow cotton
pillow. Beside the
pillow are his frosty
can of grape soda,
his small bag of M&Ms with Nuts, and
an open package of Miniature Peanut Butter Cups.
He kneels back down,
and folds both small
hands in his lap.

[STERN FATHERLY
GLANCE TO HIS
RIGHT.]

[JESUS SHAKES
HIS HEAD, AND SMILES GENTLY.]
[HE SPEAKS QUIETLY.]
"FATHER...........
she was just.....
being......
FUNNY....."

[UNSMILING GLANCE.]
*****************
Incline
Thy ear
to
me!
[Psalms 102:2]

Copyright 2012.


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