This is a story written about my boy, his leaving, his mission and the angels who have helped push him along the way written by his best friend, Joey Gustin. Joey read this to us on Mother's Day after we all said goodbye to Alex again after our wonderful Skype call. While we were already crying with joy (and a little sadness) it further brought me to tears and will you too, I am sure. This is being published with Joey's permission to be a memory for Alex of what he tells us really happened for him, that day, sitting in the airport before he left his home, family, friends and all that he loves, to serve the people of the Philippines for the next 2 years.
The Angel
"Okay..." The Instructor said, pausing to fabricate the words... "I need you to go down there.... I need you to make sure, he stays on that plane... Keep him there, I need him" Tension rises, the "instructee" stands ready to carry the burden of his mission. Sparks in his eyes, fire in his heart, wings upon his back. The instructor continued, his words boomed like thunder,"he has dreamed the script you shall follow, he dreamed of your arrival but doesn't believe it to happen.... Show him otherwise. Then you wait in the shadows for those who need him to call out. Give them hope, give them signs to stay alive.... NOW GO."
He dove off the edge and plummeted to land of sin. The feathers flickered in the wind... The land below blue and brown in sight, but his internal vision saw black and red in patches, indicating sin and struggle. He searched desperately for a safe spot to land. He then spot his target.... He landed in the safety of his presence. Standing in the shadows, masked as light and air, watching over his target man. Stares on as his man closes his office door, lays his hands on a head of curls, surrounded by people who love him, the man closes his eyes and begins to pray.
Hidden in the shadows, the one with wings closed his eyes and channeled into his target, allowing the words from his mind to flow through to his man. This provided comfort to the target he could feel. He closed his prayer and released his power, returning to overseeing. He waits patiently for his day to move.
The day arrives. The winged one feels the struggle within his man....he provides strength and power to stand and press on. He flies over them as they all travel to the airport, feeling the grieve among the souls and faces with his target. They arrive, he remains omniscient and oversees the final goodbyes, feeling the strength of importance his target has within those around him. He follows his target as he waves goodbye, one last time from the end of the terminal. They carry on.
The winged one feels his man desire to turn back and his hesitance to continue on... Both becoming too strong to combat from the shadows. The winged one closed his eyes and felt the atmospheric pressure of the earth on his face as he did when he was alive. He opened his eyes, he was standing in the terminal, disguised as an old man, he took his place. He watched his target board the plane, he followed suit.
He sat down beside his target, he was crying and mumbling. The winged one spoke up, " why are you crying young man?" His target looks over at him white as a ghost and covered in tears.... He began his story of mission and loss, pain and power, leaving those he loves to serve. The winged one followed the fabricated dreamed script, "well expect No hug or pity from me..... But you are doing a good thing and they will all be here when you come back" his target looked at him in shock.... He had seen his sign, he had to be here. He had to go. He had to serve. They stepped off the plane and the winged one disappeared into the crowd. He now watches over those who need him most, in the absence of his assigned missionary man. He watches from the shadows, he shows those around the signs of the life of the one they love off in another world, working, sharing the strength that those put in to his heart. Like an endless cycle of support and power. Just a sudden spark in a dark shadow of time that is the mission.
by Joseph Beuhler Gustin
