Singing

Today was an education.

It being a peaceful time for all of my charges, I have had time to think of other things, and my mind kept going back to what my seniors said to me, about possibly moving on to a new discipline.  A Gather, they said, or a Comforter, or a Singer.  I have thought much about these disciplines since then.

I know something of the Gather’s art, but I do not think it is for me.  To bring spirits from the end of their lives to their ultimate fate seems…too serious?  Too many endings, I think.  Though I do admit to being curious about the details of those final destinations.  I might be better as a Comforter, but I think to be in the proximity of such sorrow always would take a toll on me.  Naturally I have a deep respect for those angels who do perform these tasks, and do them well—you are stronger than I, sisters and brothers, in ways that I do not fully understand.

But a Singer…I hardly know what it is that they do, aside from spread the glory of our God.  I mentioned this to Danit yesterday, and she suggested that I find out.  So today, I found myself in the company of Adiola, a Power like myself who has been a Singer for many, many years.

Adiola is a big soul with a bright smile and a brilliant heart.  She greeted me with an embrace, wrapping arms and wings around me tightly.  “So you are Asa’el,” she said, stepping back and beaming at me.  “I have read your work for some time and I jumped at the chance to show you a bit of mine.”

“I’m grateful that you would take the time,” I responded.

“It’s no trouble at all.  Well!  We should be on our way.”  She gestured with one wing, and I followed her as we spun down from heaven into the cold breeze of a mountain town.

“Which of your charges will we be meeting first?” I asked.

She blinked at me.  “Oh, Singers do not have assigned charges, except in special cases where a particular soul needs powerful guidance,” she explained.  “Instead we travel, looking for spirits who need to feel that God is real, that they are not alone, that there is love in the world.”  Her voice had taken on a lilt, a lyrical sway, and it was beautiful.  “There are always many who are listening for our songs, even if they don’t know it.”  Adiola smiled.  “Stay close—we have a lot to do!”

And we did.  We visited many churches in that town and the next—“I love churches,” Adiola trilled, “they make me sing out loud!”—where Adiola spun over the congregation, singing along with the music and placing light in the hearts of all who heard her.  At first I could not quite tell what she was doing, but I could see the results.  A man who wasn’t singing suddenly lifted his head and smiled, reaching for his wife’s hand.  A woman at the front of the next church leaned closer to the microphone, tears in her eyes, singing with all her might.  A child heard a phrase he recognized and bounced on the pew, turning to his mother with delight.

I soon realized that Adiola was taking the words and the sounds of the music and drawing them deeper into the spirits of those who heard.  She made connections in their minds to their own lives and gave them realizations that comforted or exhilarated them.

It was not only through music, either—at one church she stood behind the minister, and his voice made nearly every person sit up and take note.  At another she called an elderly woman’s attention to the gurgling of a baby in the row ahead of her, and young and old exchanged smiles and silly faces for the rest of the service.  We even strayed from churches more than once—an old man nodded as he listened to a sermon on the radio, tears in his eyes, and in her kitchen a young woman danced and sang while she did the dishes, happy without really knowing why.

It was a rush to move so quickly and touch so many.  I said as much to Adiola, who laughed.  “Sundays are easy,” she told me.  “Always delightful, of course, but I like it when we can do something a bit more special.  Watch with me.”

She swept back down, searching for something, though I was not quite certain what.  Finally she settled on a busy restaurant, packed with families and couples.  Adiola’s attention, however, was not drawn by the customers but by one of the waitresses.

For hours, as she took orders and raced back and forth from the kitchen with heavy trays of drinks and heavier armloads of dirty dishes, we watched her.  We learned that her name is Emily, that she is fresh out of college and discouraged by what she has found in the world, that she is nevertheless a hard worker and a kind soul.

She is so kind, in fact, that when a coworker came to her with a strange request, she could not bring herself to say no.  “It’s just until tomorrow,” Laura explained, an edge of desperation on her voice.  “The plumbers are coming first thing in the morning and I can manage after that, just—well, I don’t have the money to stay at a hotel, and I don’t have anywhere else to go, so…”

“Of course you can stay with me,” Emily said, though she thought doubtfully of her one-room apartment, and though she does not know or even like Laura very much.

Still, when both of them were finished, they climbed into Emily’s car.  Adiola and I followed, and I found the silence quite as awkward as everyone else did, except perhaps Adiola.  She was too focused, watching Emily the entire time.

It would seem that silence is just as important to a Singer as the music—indeed, it is a crucial part of the song.

As Emily pulled into her apartment complex, Laura looked around in surprise.  “This is where you live?” she asked.

Emily glanced at her in surprise.  “Yeah,” she said, wondering if Laura thought it too shabby, like she did, or perhaps if she was impressed.  Emily has been learning how fortunate she had been earlier in her life, and she sometimes, I think, allows it to depress her when she thinks of where she is now.

But Laura was not thinking of anything like that.  “Weird,” she murmured.

“What?”

“Well,” she said, hesitating, but then she gestured across the street, where there was another, very similar apartment complex.  “My mom lives over there.”

“Oh,” Emily said, wondering with a flash of irritation why Laura hadn’t just asked to stay with her mother.

Realizing this, Laura said, “I haven’t talked to her for years.”

She did not elaborate, and Emily did not press, but both Adiola and I could see the pain in Laura’s spirit.  I was surprised, then, to see Adiola smiling.

“Stay with them, brother,” she said, and then she was gone.

Surprised, I nevertheless trailed Emily and Laura into the apartment.  Laura believed Emily when she insisted her armchair was perfectly comfortable to sleep in, so she took the bed, and for a while the women talked about painless things, getting a bit more easy with one another.

Then Laura went out for a cigarette, and she didn’t come back for half an hour.  Getting curious, and concerned that it was cold without a coat, Emily went to investigate, and I went with her.  We found Laura sitting on the steps of the building, her cigarette having burned out in her hand, staring at her phone.

“What’s up?” Emily asked, making Laura jump.  At the same moment, Adiola appeared beside me, making me jump.

“What’s happened?” I asked, for she was radiating satisfaction.

“Just watch,” she answered.

I turned my attention back to Laura, who was in a fog of astonishment.  “I just got a call from my mom,” she said.  “She saw me from her balcony and called me.  She wants me to come over.”

Emily looked across the street in the same astonishment.  “She recognized you from that far away?”

“I guess so.  I saw her out there—she waved.”

“Whoa,” Emily said, not knowing what else to say.  “Well—you should go!”

Laura, still shocked, looked up at her.  “You think?”

“Well,” Emily said, realizing that she didn’t know the particulars of the situation, “did she—did she seem mad?”

“No.”  A small smile of wonder came to Laura’s face.  “No.  She wants to talk.”

“Well, then, you should go!” Emily insisted, beginning to feel excited.  “You have a chance to fix things, you should take it!”

Laura got to her feet.  “Yeah,” she said, her smile widening.  “Well, let me just—grab my stuff.”  She laughed.  “I guess I might not be staying the night tonight, after all.”

Emily assured Laura that she was welcome, but she, too, hoped that Laura would not be back.  She helped gather up Laura’s things and sent her on her way with a hug and her very best wishes.

“No, stay here,” Adiola said as I made to follow Laura.

“What?” I asked, glancing down at Emily as she closed the door.  “What do you mean?”

“We did all this for Emily, not for Laura,” Adiola said.

I was confused for an instant—hadn’t Emily just been incidental to this?

But then Emily burst into tears, a huge smile on her face, and I began to understand.

“Oh, God,” Emily said, covering her mouth and falling into her chair.  “Oh, God, thank you.  There’s no way that was a coincidence.  Thank you.”  She laughed and hugged herself, tears still pouring down her face.  “Thank you for letting me be a part of that.”  And she continued to weep for joy, and I saw in amazement how her soul opened and stretched and began to glow.

Watching in great contentment, Adiola said softly to me, “She will remember this feeling for the rest of her life.  Whenever she has reason to doubt or fear that she is alone, she will look back on this night and remember this certainty.”  She smiled at me, and there were tears in her eyes, too.  “This is what makes it all worthwhile for me, Asa’el.  This is what I do.”

I cannot stop thinking about it.  The wonder and the warmth that Emily sensed, the sheer gratitude she felt, the assurance that she found in it all, was truly miraculous.  How did Adiola know that Emily needed this?  How did she know that she could accomplish it at all?  I wish I knew, so that I could do such things myself.

It is a very different kind of work, I admit.  I would miss having a close connection with my charges, knowing them well and knowing how best to help them.  I did check in on Laura and her mother, just to confirm that their reunion was going well—and it was.  But if I knew that I could bring such fervor to human souls, if I could give them such glimpses of glory that they would treasure for years to come…yes, I think that is something that I could do.