I need to finish this shift and then I can head back to earth. I look around me at the familiar desks and halo headpieces. I guess, in a way, I’m a little like Bailey. I’ve gotten used to my job and the way things are … becoming a guardian angel, though something I’ve been working toward and looking forward to will require me to expand myself.
Now I see why Bailey has been so scared. Oof! How could I be so careless to leave her alone right now?
Twenty
BAILEY
I. Can’t. Breathe.
Gasp.
I cross my arms over my chest and slide down the wall as my legs give out. It’s not so much that they give out, but I lose feeling for them. I think that’s the lack of oxygen. Funny how my thoughts are all fuzzy, but I can figure that out, right?
I’m. A. Mess.
Gasp.
I huddle behind the massive Christmas tree in the Holly Inn’s grand foyer. My heart races from the panic that drove me from the ballroom. The tree’s branches scratch gently against my arm, grounding me in the present moment.
Suddenly, a familiar voice breaks through. “Bailey? What on earth are you doing back here?”
I look up to see Gladys peering around the tree, her golden curls catching the soft glow of the Christmas lights. Her expression is a mix of concern and curiosity.
“Gladys,” I manage to croak out, my voice hoarse from unshed tears. “I... I panicked.”
Gladys scoots behind the tree and settles herself beside me, her presence comforting despite the awkwardness of our hiding spot. She’s shielding me from anyone who might have seen me scramble back here. I lean my head on her shoulder and hiccup.
“Why did you panic?” she asks gently, her voice barely above a whisper. “Are you worried about the judging?”
I take a shuddering breath, trying to articulate the storm of emotions inside me. “Sort of. It’s just that everything’s changing so fast. The way people look at me, talk to me... even the way I feel about myself. It’s like I’m becoming someone new, and I don’t know how to handle it.” I shake out my hands as if I can shake the energy that’s buzzing through me to the floor.
“I understand how you feel.” Gladys’s eyes never leave my face. “There’s no such thing as too much change or too soon. Everything happens in God’s time.”
I shake my head, frustration bubbling up inside me. “But how can I trust that? Sometimes... sometimes it’s hard to feel God through all this panic and pain.”
Gladys’s expression softens, her eyes shining with compassion. “My dear, Christ already suffered that for you. You don’t have to hold on to it. You don’t have to clamp down and try to keep it inside. Give it to Him.”
Her words wash over me, stirring something deep within my soul. The concept isn’t new, but somehow, in this moment, hiding behind a Christmas tree, it takes on a new meaning.
“How?” I whisper, my voice trembling with a mixture of fear and hope.
Gladys smiles gently. “Just close your eyes and pray. Ask Him to take away your pain. Offer it to him. Trust that He will.”
With a deep breath, I close my eyes. The sounds of the inn fade away—the distant murmur of voices from the ballroom, the soft Christmas music playing in the background. I focus on my breathing, on the beating of my heart.
“God,” I begin hesitantly, “I... I don’t know if I’m doing this right. But I’m tired of carrying all this pain and … fear. Please... please take it away. Help me trust in … in Your timing. I’m ready to let go.”
As I pray, something shifts inside me. A warmth spreads through my chest, radiating outward until it envelops my entire body. The knot of anxiety that’s been a constant presence in my stomach for so long begins to loosen. I feel lighter, as if a weight I didn’t even realize I was carrying in my very cells is evaporating from me. And then the healing starts. My dried, cracked heart that I once compared to desert soil, fills with God’s love. The cracks swell until they are no longer there, and I feel whole.
I open my eyes, meeting Gladys’s expectant gaze. My hand flies to my heart, surprised by the sense of peace that’s settled there.
“Well?” Gladys asks, her eyes shining.
I let out a small laugh, marveling at the change I feel. “It’s not like angels started singing or anything,” I say, “but I feel different. My heart is new.”
Gladys beams at me, her entire face lighting up with joy. She stands, brushing pine needles from her clothes, and offers me her hand. “I can start singing if you’d like,” she says with a mischievous wink, “but they’re about to announce the winner, and you need to be in the ballroom.”
As I take her hand and allow her to pull me to my feet, I’m struck by how different everything looks. The foyer, with its grand staircase and glittering decorations, seems brighter somehow. The panic that drove me to hide has faded, replaced by a calm determination.
