Part II. The Black Day Angel (A Very Christmas Day)

Posted: December 22, 2012 in Apologetics Parables
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From the faux Irish pub revolution.

From the faux Irish pub revolution.

By Tess Doberville

Once upon a very dark time, as you will remember in our last The Black Day Angel fairy horror tale, our handsome male heroine, Lonnie who with his strangely Indian looks and demeanor, of the Black Irish ~ meaning of the early Spanish conquistadors who had came to Ireland in the earlier centuries and took Irish brides as their own, now faces a different mystery.  As we left off in Part I. of our story, Lonnie who had gone to a graveyard that he seemed as if to stumble upon, after drinking a rather large bottle of premium Irish whiskey, in the entirety of the thing, guzzled this down nonstop and very drunk sobers at the ghost of his own dead and presumed forever lost father.

Staring at the ghost who with extended hand misted and at once seemed to welcome Lonnie as opposed to life, to enter the land of the grave beyond with him, the guardian Dark Angel, whose full purpose a heaven elsewhere known, smiled only slightly.  She extended her two arms before her and lowed, her hands with palms upturned, outstretched.  Lonnie knew though in his spirit, for a fact that on this very Christmas eve he faced his own real birth father.  Created in his image, the two nearly mirrored eachother.  Lonnie, flesh.  His father, a spirit being gone from the earth, for how long now?

The mystery of his father’s life brought forth so many immediate questions.  Where had he lived while on the earth?  Where had he gone after Lonnie, a newborn baby he had deposited on the orphanage steps?  The rectory had refused all information to him.  And anyway, in those days, nobody kept records, and definitely not accurate records.  The days and years of a birth, most estimated to the closest common denominator.  Only efficient churches  kept records that revealed such things through baptismals and the what not.  However, the important thing was that Lonnie was here and now, and that he was neither dreaming, nor having a nightmare, nor blacked out, as was normally the case.  He wanted to converse with the man, and Dark Angel who seemed ministerial, as if she were pleading, beckoning him to come said nothing.  He stepped forward and as he did, he heard the choruses of many angels singing.  He remembered a sermon during church on Sunday, when he was about eight, of Father giving a sermon that said certainly all of these mysterious things are in the earth.  But that man is neither to commune with or worry about such things. And yet at this time, another ghost he thought of much more than this.

23And when he had sent the multitudes away, he went up into a mountain apart to pray: and when the evening was come, he was there alone. 24But the ship was now in the midst of the sea, tossed with waves: for the wind was contrary.25And in the fourth watch of the night Jesus went unto them, walking on the sea.26And when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were troubled, saying, It is a spirit; and they cried out for fear.27But straightway Jesus spake unto them, saying, Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid.28And Peter answered him and said, Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the water.29And he said, Come. And when Peter was come down out of the ship, he walked on the water, to go to Jesus. ~ Standard King James (Pure Cambridge)

What did it all mean?  For here before him was a challenge.  What had he done?  Had he said or done wicked things to hurt others while drunk?  Did he even remember all of his behavior?  Of course, he remembered the old addage:  What you say, and what you are while drunk is who and what you really are deep down inside.  The alcohol does that, you know.  It is an emotional painkiller, used mostly for anesthesia and colds during wars and by well-meaning old Irish grandmothers for medicine. But more than that, the hard liquor was the greatest uninhibitor. What was never meant to be forever, Lonnie had made forever.  To deaden the pain of the loss of his family.  An orphan all of his life, and even up until now in his adult life, he felt constantly abandoned and alone.  The terror of the loss of the only woman he ever really and truly loved to a deep, dark grave compounded matters profusely.  He had questions.  And not only did he know God.  He was very close to God.  Not ever a mean, cruel or violent being, the gentle Lonnie had hurt no one while drunk.  He only saddened and sorrowed so greatly at times, not so much about a God who did not care.  But more, about the people whose hearts God placed heavy burdens on to care, but who sat in darkness while proclaiming to a world who really needed something that they had the light when they did not.

It was almost like the people who did not really have the light saw one who did, and instead of considering the cost, only saw on the surface of what they wanted from it.  Like a she wolf who had long since cast away her mate, she ran after the old slab of meat embreasted amidst a mound of snow and chomped her greedy bit down upon him.  Not because she wanted him. But only to keep the real sheep from having him, from dining of him first.  Just as greed is an animal and not a true and deep spirit instinct, the wise ewe stood back and hid safely in the woods, allowing her to perform the silly act.  After all, the female sheep had seen the Indian hunters come earlier and place a knife up inside of the dead wolf in order to capture a live animal ~ Who once she had eaten away all of the dead flesh, in her desperation realized after it was too late after she hurriedly chomping the bit of a sharp upright knife blade, now fatally bled to death.

The lesson, even Lonnie knew as plain as day is day, and night is night.  The eye is a trickster, and only by a denial of the flesh and what the flesh both holds and desires and wants may the spirit within you arise.  And he did want to quit drinking this way.  Although, true, the alcohol did make you feel better and worry less at the time.  But it was bad medication.  The viscious side effects sometimes included a quiet desperation no human heart could reach past to comfort him.  Head aches aspirin would not cure only spurred the heartache that returned stronger with each following sober day, whose problems only seemed to mount greater as opposed to ease or suffice.  And contrary to the popular tin tray and paper magazine and billboard ads of these pre-prohibition days, the booze decreased instead of heightened male sexual pleasure.  After all, what did his deceased Christian girlfriend ever miss out on.  She did not believe in sex before marriage, and he was glad about that ~  For certainly because of his secret and declining physical condition, that was the one thing he did manage to provide her with.

So, this his moment of truth shined brightly. Or as in this case, darkly.  A lonely night alone standing wet and soaking and smelling like Kilbeggan, pure Irish whiskey, to coin a pun, no this was not his idea of a very Christmas night.  The Larry O’Rourke pub, his most precious Dublin toasting place, he often felt the spirit of the young Joyce who once was there before his trists in Trieste, Paris and Zurich.  The writer would be proud of his success, and yet even Lonnie had no idea the man would die at the prime of his creativity.  Lonnie additionally did not know that God himself had actually destined him for a long and blessed prolific life.

Lonnie breathed deeply and walked forward.  And contrary to Father O’Mallie’s teaching, he listened.  For truly, he had already destined himself to talk to the ghost.  “Lonnie,” illumined the spirit who spoke as if wind, and he felt his father’s emotions.  It was the strangest thing.  “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. They buried me while I thought of God.  Standing at the place of the battle, as a soldier in the American war one moment, and I considered I might die.  And then I did.”  Lonnie knew the rest of the story by some kind of strange and heartfelt telepathy.  Of course, he knew right away.  His father was thinking of accepting Jesus Christ as his lord and savior.  He had drug it out.  Trudged what seemed a thousand miles through German wasteland only to delay.  And just as the moment of decision came, he never had a chance.  The enemy knew that his only chance required for him to move forward quickly and remove the person suddenly.  The dirty deed done, who would know that the person never even had a chance to stand up and speak his piece.

But the limbo that many said did not exist, did.  Of course, it did not exist the way many thought.  It was temporary limbo, set up until the time that people throughout the earth would crawl out of graves everywhere to find the master of light.  Lonnie thought of the way his girlfriend brought him a tree last year.  She had cut it herself, and dragging it behind her brought it into the house.  She found him passed out on the kitchen floor, and threw away the empty bottles.  She pulled him to the bedroom and bathed him the way she had heard her mother tell her that good Samaritan story over and over and over.  As a child, she had this kind of a strength all along.  So it was nothing to chop up vegetables and put a large pot of home made soup on the stove.  While he slept smelling like soap and powder, his cotton pajamas smelled gently of the delicate lavender she placed in the wash.  And just like her own grandma before her, she washed the clothes by hand and set them near the radiator.

Her own grandma had actually only had a kitchen cook stove do this.  But still, the grand daughter liked this modern way.  It just seemed more free and easy.  That was what she was, he thought.  Free and easy.  He had even called her that once, and meaning it in a wrong and bad way, now felt as if he had wounded himself instead of her.  She was not harsh and self-centered and demanding like other women.  Over controlling women and her did not get along.  Love does not demand it’s own way.  But so now he stood where she must have gone, except he slowly reasoned, she actually must have gone up and not down. He reached out his hand to the father ghost standing before him, as if to say, “My name is Lonnie.”  But the man only said, “Lonnie, I love you.”  And suddenly, Lonnie knew that all of his life that this very thing that he an orphan, long abandoned could not ever understand was an actual thing of existence.  She had given him lots of this actual love.

A strange and mysterious feeling washed over him.  A good and not a ghostly feeling.  For truly, this must be love.  That his Christian girlfriend who had died had laid down her life for him suddenly became clear.  Before she had died, she had held his face in her hands and told him that he should cry.  A lot.  For God would store every tear in a bottle and give it back to him in the form of crystal water rivers to bend and cup his hands around and drink from someday.  By now, she was drifting off to that place.  She begged him not to hold onto her, as if to say, “Let go of my ankles.  If you do not let go, I cannot go up to that lovely place I now see.”  She told him of the land she now saw.  It was filled with so much beauty, and glistening ponds and cattle and birds above and tender dancing trees whose leaves rattled with song wind.  So much rolling farmland that everything she ever lost diminished in an instant. And in her eyes, he saw that she wanted him to live forever and not perish too.

“I will not make the mistake of denying God,” Lonnie said to his father ghost, and then glanced slightly at The Dark Angel.  “I will ask Jesus into my heart this instant.”  Someday I want to go where she, my Julia went.  It is the only way I will ever find her again.  “I do not know if we will ever be together,” his father said.  “I made so many mistakes in life.  Even now, I am waiting for the heavens to decide.”  By this, he meant God.  After all, you have to understand, the Irish way of thinking and speaking is different than the English.  It is a matter of dialect.  “But nevertheless, it is the age old matter that is being decided,” surprisingly spoke The Dark Angel.  Her voice sounded like crystal on a cloud, and she hesitated, for she did not hurry.

Of course, he knew this in the spirit place of his heart.  Everyone wondered whether those who went into a coma and wanted to go to heaven had the ability to make this decision with the heart of the spirit, speechless.  Right now, Lonnie felt speechless.  Such a thing as he had not ever felt before all of his life came over him.  The elation, nirvana, so precious and so innocent and yet so pristine.  He prayed to stay in this all of his life.  Suddenly nothing else mattered.  Suddenly the very atmosphere of the graveyard, of all places had turned out to be after all, a very Christmas night.

¶ For God so loued þe world, that he gaue his only begotten Sonne: that whosoeuer beleeueth in him, should not perish, but haue euerlasting life.

John 3:16  (1611 King James Bible)

To be continued…

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