Suddenly, a tear caught my eye. I knew it wasn't the rain - couldn't even feel it - and it landed nicely on the edge of my eye. It was just a single tear, yet unmistakable. Straining to know what is going on, I held my breath, waiting for something else. And it came.
A sob. Soft, as if as she was fearful of someone overhearing that sob while passing by. Swimming into her emotions, I identified that as a struggle. She was trying to hold her tears back, so hard, yet it fell. Struggling to not cry, but she still sobbed.
I knew what needed to be done. I wasn't created with abilities to understand the human emotion without a purpose. More than just being able to understand humans, I could also move to and fro in time, into the past and the future. The power to look past the physical barriers of humans - walls, buildings, obstructions - and the power to dwell in a being that invites me in.
But somehow, I never like being what I am. Despite all these abilities I have, I will never be seen. Nobody can see me, minus the heavenly beings. Not anyone can sense my presence, though some will and had before. When I was made, I was made differently. Unlike my other 'friends' in heaven, I wasn't made with 3 pairs of wings or with a with white sparkling apparal. Only ordinary, with no shape or form, only me.
And I was often picked at.
"No wings!" Laughter. Mockery. "How is it that you're not wearing clothes?" More laughter. More mockery.
What's wrong with not having wings? What's the matter about not having a form? I am made as what I am, not what I wanted to be.
Not enjoying the company of those heavenly but rather unheavenly beings, I roamed in the Man's world. Moving between cities and nature, floating around, listening to the laughter of happy families, smiling at the cries of a new born, cheering at the victories scored by people who never gave up.
And occasionally, like in such an instance, to help wipe some tears away from a crying person.
I knew where I had to go. In no time, I was staring at that young lady. Swollen red eyes, she stared into blank space. Stains of dried tears smeared her otherwise lovely and rosy cheeks, eyes that could sparkle had it not be for the crying, and a face that no one couldn't love anymore. She was, indeed, a fine young lady. And at first sight, had almost no reason at all to even cry.
Her past was stained with the harshness of this unforgiving world. She never had enough to eat - her dad was a poor worker - and never had the love of a family - her mother died of tuberculosis while she was still little. Struggling to survive, she walked into the world of thieves and bandits, washing dishes in a dark pub, with whatever the meager wages in return of her labour, place bread on the table for her younger siblings. Social welfare gave her a scholarship, while studying she stinged on every single penny and sent it back home, knowing that it would help elevate the burdens of her dad.
The longer I looked into her past, the more my heart sank. Her dad, being the good man and the loving husband, developed a staph infection while working in the recycling factory. The boss refused to send him to hospital, and one day he fainted and bled from his nostrils and ears. It was just too late. The girl was crushed. Gave up her scholarship, and for the second time, walked back into the arms of the world itself and selled her soul in a light deficit corporation. Lies, deception, backstabbing became her wounds and scars. Battling against people of similar nature, she was deceived by a man who seemingly loved her yet betrayed her for the flesh. And now, she lied motionless at the corner of her little apartment in a slum, accompanied by grief, anguish, bitterness, anger, and despise.
I saw the spirit of despise and the spirit of grief encircling her. Every time it revolves around her, it left a black mist of doubt and anger around her. I knew this dirty scheme. It blurs her sight and vision. It leaves her disillusioned. It makes her depressed. It condemns her and herself. I've seen enough of this. Too many people have fell prey to this mist. Too many families torn apart, too many lives lost, and too many went astray. In me, fury raged. A fiery anger that could not tolerate black and darkness. And I knew what had to be done.
With a loud cry, I charged at the spirits. Tearing them into pieces, I didn't leave them with a chance. They were no match against me. With me was a secret weapon, a small knife made of light that allowed me to use it freely against darkness, and I had no hesitation against them. They vanished into thin air along with the dark mists, but the girl was still crying.
Wrapping my form around her, it was my turn to encircle her now. Instead of leaving behind dark black mists, I left her with warmth and light. Moving my 'hands' to wipe her tears away, I whispered into her ears.
Hang on! You're not alone!
She looked up, not knowing that I was closer than what she thought I was. Her last drop of tear fell, and as it fell she allowed these words to slip her lips:
"Lord, what must I do now?"
With mixed feelings - relief, frustration and a tinge of disappointment - I marched up to my Father. The One who created me. He knew I was approaching, because even before I saw Him, I already heard His question.
Why are you angry? Funny isn't it, I'm supposed to be the one that's asking, and instead He asks me first.
First come first serve. You know the answer, don't You?
He motioned me to step into his arms. Thus far, only He can hug me because no one else could. Again I felt encouraged, felt at home and comfortable, at least, while the other beings are not around to tease me about not having any wings or white apparels.
"Why are bad things happening to good people?"
"Why are darkness shadowing the light?"
"Why are people suffering and crying?"
Paused. The most important question took a while to come out. Reluctantly, I blurted out,
"Why am I just a ghost?"
Looking down at me, the same loving Dad He has always been, He pointed in front. I looked up, and saw a glimpse of the world.
A huge auditorium, with thousands of people dressed in smart suits and beautiful night gowns. Resembling an award ceremony. They were standing, applauding a young lady clad in an awesome red dress that was slowly making her way to the stage to receive a little trophy. And I looked closer.
She walked to the microphone, beaming with pride and flashing her million dollar smile. Compared to the her I saw moments ago, it was a complete transformation, a stark difference, a total makeover. From the shriveled girl that was hiding at the corner of the room to the proud and tall lady in a night of acknowledgement and appreciation.
"I walked through life with nothing more than a torn pair of sandals. My dad was too poor to purchase proper shoes for me. I started work at the age of 10, with nothing but my bare hands to wash dishes. I entered the corporate world at 19, because my father died and left me responsible for the welfare of my 3 younger siblings.
"Journeys, my friends, may be tough. Punishing. Disappointing. Sometimes you'll never get what you want. I once wanted a man, and when I thought I met the right guy, he left me after having a rough time on the bed with me." Stopping, there was a mixed response from the crowd. Some laughed, thinking it was a joke. Some gasped, holding back doubts and disbeliefs that all that she said about herself was true.
Clearing her throat, she continued. "People, in times of trouble, hang on to things. We all need something to hang on to. I won't know what you would hang on to, but I knew one promise that I've always hung on to faithfully, despite not knowing what the future holds, even though I may not see things changing, I have walked through the last 15 years of my life, seeing God's goodness in my life, experiencing His grace in my walk with Him, and constantly amazed at what He has done in my life.
"That promise is simple. It is a promise that He will never let me walk alone. A promise that no matter how tough the road ahead can be, He's there. And if you ever doubted that, I stand before you, a witness, a testimony, of how God has been such a wonderful companion in my darkest nights."
I was held breathless. Lost for words. Could this be true?
"You see," He finally said. "You were never a ghost. Ghost, is simply a name the rest give to you."
"You are a representative of me. A messenger of my promises. You don't need to do anything, but just be with them and in them. You know who needs you most. You know what needs to be done."
Go do it!
I smiled. Satisfied with what I heard. In front of me, is the girl. She's still at the corner of the room, she's still crying, she's still in pain. I saw what I know will come true, and I did what I had to do. I stayed on with her, for a long time, with that vision at the back of my mine, and for once never minded about what the other beings made fun of me. It takes more than just wings or a white gown to make a difference in people's life. Or maybe, you don't need to be an angel to be more than the angel that people need.