*
The first few weeks were absolute bliss. Greg was on break from school and Dad took over the youth ministry two Wednesdays in a row, giving Greg and me the opportunity to spend a few days on Galveston beach for our honeymoon.
What’s more, there was a small guest house on the property with my folks’ house, which was included with the church. That’s where Greg and I sat up our home.
By the third week, Greg was raring to get back to his youth group and co-pastoring with Dad. I, of course, was right there to support him every step of the way, not even considering that I was doing all the giving and he was doing all the receiving. I was still too blinded by the ‘love bug’ to see the picture clearly.
Dad, naturally, was happy with me. I’d catch a glimpse of him smiling approvingly at me once in a while. Still, if he did take a minute to ask me how I was doing, he always seemed to get sidetracked by something or someone else. We rarely ever had a conversation with more than one complete sentence. Sometimes not even finishing one.
As more time passed, it was slowly becoming clearer to me what my life was going to be like. That is, unless I took Mom’s advice and went back to school. One Wednesday evening after the youth group was over I approached Greg as he was putting away the brown hymnals into the back of the pews. Seeing me coming, he smiled and said, “Good! Would you finish putting these away? Your dad wants to see me about Sunday.” He grinned proudly. “He’s going to let me deliver the main sermon!” There were no doubts that he was tickled to his toes.
“That’s awesome, Greg!”
He swiftly turned to walk away, but I called after him. “There’s something I’d like to talk over with you when you are finished.”
With a bob of his head, he said, “All right,” and went on off to the church office where Dad was.
Only Greg didn’t make it to the house until after eleven. At which time, I was already half asleep, and I could see he was tired too. It would have to wait.
Sometime in the middle of the night I began to dream. It wasn’t just an ordinary dream that one forgets the minute one awakes. It was much too real. At first I heard a male voice calling my name. The voice was distinct, very masculine, but with a soft, sensual clarity, almost musical. He spoke my name several times before I finally sat up on my elbows, glancing over at Greg, who was sound asleep. There was no way the voice was coming from him. What’s more, the voice didn’t sound like Greg in the slightest.
“Brenda!” the voice repeated.
I jerked my head around and was stunned by what I saw – the most beautiful man I ever feasted my eyes on! He was tall, stately, with hair that shone of spun gold. His eyes were the most brilliant sky blue, but they had kind of an unusual shape, not exactly human, but he looked human in all other respects. He wore a flowing – silk-like – robe that matched his brilliant eyes, like the ones a person might see in a picture in the Bible. Unable to believe what I was seeing, I was utterly beyond words.
“It’s okay, Brenda. I’m not here to harm you. I just want to let you know that I have been watching you for some time.”
“What? Why? Who are you? Are you… Are you an angel?”
That seemed to amuse him, as he chuckled casually. My name and who I am is not important at the moment.”
“Huh?”
“I just want you to know you are not alone.”
Really confused, I asked, “What do you mean? I have a husband. My Dad’s just next door.”
“Yes,” he agreed with a nod. “But are they here for you?”
Not really trusting this strange but gorgeous man – whatever he was – I was hesitant to say much. “Greg and Dad are pastors. They just have a lot to do. It’s my place as Greg’s wife to help him.”
I thought I caught a barely detectable flinch when he said, “What about you, though?”
“I … I … I’m dreaming. I know this is a dream.”
His eyes crinkled in a gentle smile. “Yes you are.”
“Then you’re not real and I need to wake up.”
“Oh … But I am very real. Just know this, Brenda. I am watching over you. I am here for you if you need me.” Then he vanished.
“What?”
Suddenly someone was shaking my shoulders. I opened my eyes to Greg’s.
“Brenda! You were talking in your sleep. Are you okay?”
“I just had a really vivid dream.”
“Was it a nightmare?”
“No,” I answered with hesitance. “I’m not quite sure what it was.”
“Well, I suppose that’s good. Maybe we can go back to sleep now?”
“Yes. Sleep.” I closed my eyes and turned over. But when I did, I suddenly saw those brilliant eyes in my head. I gasped.
“You sure you’re okay?” Greg inquired.
“Yeah… Just sneezed,” I lied.
That seemed to suffice for Greg. He was instantly back to sleep.
Not me. The man’s face was so vivid in my mind that when I got the chance the next afternoon, when Greg and Dad were working together in the church office, I found a clean piece of paper and a pencil in Greg’s desk drawer and I drew him. I didn’t want Greg to see it though, so I stuck it up in the closet in a shoebox that held some of my mother’s photos of me. They didn’t hold the same sentimental significance for my father that they did me. So I had kept it. I figured that would be one of the last places Greg would ever look for anything.