Betty Whitaker Jackson

SOMETIMES ANGELS WEAR CLOTHES

By Betty Whitaker Jackson

 

Change of plans. Late night. Not unusual. Days are just not long enough. Phil feels trapped in his busy career as an architect. Some think Phil Baxter leads a charmed life. Blessed, even. Maybe so.

John Stewart Robbins calls him at 4:30 inviting him to buzz by his office at 5:30. When J.S. calls, Phil listens. Priority, second only to Cathy and the kids, of course.

Drop the project blueprints. Roll ‘em up. Lock ’em in the safe. Tomorrow’s another day. Gotta run.

J.S has been a combination father figure, mentor, guardian angel, business confidante, best man at his wedding, and valued friend.

Phil Baxter’s always known, deep down, the work of angels in his life. Hadn’t he alone been spared in the freak accident which snatched his parents from his four-year-old childhood, leaving only vague memories of their presence and lives? In the hospital, he’d seen a bright light, brighter than the sun. He’d been touched by an angel, and still vaguely remembers the warmth and sense of “Things will be all right, little guy. I’m with you.” Presence.

Hadn’t his precious grandmother nestled him, nurtured him, celebrated him, guided him? Now that her dementia fog separates them, Phil still sees the tender persona hidden behind dim eyesight and loss of speech. Her soft touch still speaks volumes. Her angel spirit still abides. Sensitive, creative soul that he is, he hopes for her counsel, but for now treasures her presence for yet a little longer.

And he’s sure, as he grabs his worn leather brief case, bids hasty goodbye to his staff of underlings, calls his radiant and talented Cathy, who could only be in his life by angelic presence. Hadn’t they met, seemingly by chance, but they now know, divine encounter? No other logic can explain it. They’ve given up trying figuring that one out. God has guided their every decision. They’re sure of it.

He makes the call as he heads two blocks south.

“Hey, Darlin’. Love you. Sweetie, I’m gonna be a little late. Gotta talk to J.S. He’s got somethin’ goin’ on he wants to share. You and the littles go ahead with dinner and prayer time. I’ll get there when I can. Luvya.”

“K, Honey. Grandma Jean’s made a yummy casserole. It’ll keep just fine. I’ll feed the kids and eat with you when you get here. Luvya too. Say hi to J.S. for me. He’s like an angel to us. Let’s dream big, O.K.? Bye, Honey.”

So, his logic tells him there’s a spirit world that materializes once in a while, serendipitously, as God provides messages and directions to his life. Do these beings have halos and wings and blonde tresses and flowing robes? Maybe.

But more often, Phil sees Biblical figures as male, in unassuming dress, who appear in dreams, walk along roadways, visit tents, minister in the wilderness, stop the slaying of Isaac, warn cities of impending destruction, and tell Balaam’s donkey where to go and what to say!

Yes, the Christmas angel spoke to the shepherds, and then there were multitudes of angels who spoke, not sang, the Noels and sent shepherds to the manger. One met women at Jesus’ tomb. And armies of angels, certainly not cherubs or blond ladies in flowing chiffon, lead and protect. Phil still remembers the presence of that amorphous being, veiled in bright light. Did he hear their harps? Not sure. But he knows the reality of angelic encounters, and is about to experience it firsthand yet again, just as sure as he is that angels have guided his steps through the love touches he treasures in his heart already.

So, a brisk walk to World Trade Center, Tower One, floor seventy, to the chrome and glass palace of J.S. Robbins Associates, 5:25, September 10, 2001.

Encounter, Presence, Appointment, Serendipity. Meeting with his angel in the flesh.

Forget handshakes. It’s always hugs, big bear hugs. Six-foot-six bear hugs. When Phil was an audacious senior in college, he dared submit plans to John Stewart Robbins’ competition for extensive renovations to his signature flagship resort hotel.

Unheard of, totally unexpected, among the stacks of remarkable entries, Phil’s upstart vision won, catapulting him into the big leagues of corporate architectural recognition, and earning him the respect and friendship of The Man himself, John Stewart Robbins. Phil Baxter soon became his golden-haired boy, and Phil, once more, believed, rather believes, in angels.

“Phil, my boy. Have a seat. Got somethin’ to show you. Nice article, by the way, in the Architect Digest. Tell me more about this software package you developed and my Board approved for our hotels.”

“Well, saw an opportunity, filled it, and put it out there for the world to see. Basically, it’s a reservations plan for hotels and resorts, with ad campaigns, that’s Cathy’s brainchild, and electronic clientele tracking. Makes front-desk operations as simple as possible— bookings, transportation connections, scheduling, matching personalities to suites ’n’ services, vendor efficiency, all at one dedicated web address. That’s my elevator speech. Basically, companies lease the program annually, with enticing add-ons available each time they renew. Already grabbed six major outlets, besides yours. Orders comin’ in every day. Digest article should create an avalanche of interest.”

“It’s absolutely brilliant, my boy, brilliant! How’s that sweet family of yours? Michael enjoying kindergarten?” He always seems to know what’s going on in Phil’s life, always shows interest in the latest.

“Oh, yeah. Kids are growing up way too fast. Wish I had more time to spend with them. Anyway, Cathy’s now Vice-President. Old Man Sands just keeps handing her the big accounts. Think he’s getting ready to retire, now that he knows she can run things. Just landed a huge campaign portfolio, doin’ the Christmas Ball at the Astoria. It’s got her working early and late, dreamin’ up ideas at three in the morning. Ya know how that goes!”

“Yup. Cost me two marriages. But, Daphne wouldn’t join me on this project. Can’t wait to show it to you. Anyway, we’re parting ways.  She’s staying in the City with all her socialite friends; I’m heading for warmer climes. Retiring. Had enough of this life. So, My Boy, or should I say, My Man, got a great idea for you and Cathy. How’d you like to get out of this rat race and work together, huh?”

“Really?”

“Come here. Got somethin’ to show you. If you’ve got the vision I think you do, you’re gonna like this!”  He leads Phil to the inner office, turns on the computer, projects a PowerPoint on the screen, and lets the message take over. Phil has no idea what J.S. is proposing, but as usual, when J.S. speaks, Phil listens.

“Welcome to Whispering Woods,” his rich baritone voice invites. “Whispering Woods is more than a destination. It’s a lifestyle.” Then the slides, complete with film clips, begin. First, a helicopter flyover, a hand-held video camera shooting the adventure as they weave through a tree-lined private road. Then the  voiceover description continues. . . very professional indeed.

J.S. hits the pause. “Phil, I’m selling 160 acres of prime real estate in Great Barrington, Massachusetts. You’ve got first dibs, ten days, take it or leave it. Take a look!”

Then the scope of the property emerges. What a set up! The narration continues: “Undeveloped forest, a central compound once visited by legendary socially prominent vacationers, the area complete with New England charm, outdoor beauty, rambling garden walks, a huge ramshackle Victorian farmhouse, a barn with stables, what could be better?”  If the visuals aren’t convincing, his rich baritone voice reminds, “In a coupla weeks, the colors will be just gorgeous, and in the winter, it’s a veritable scenic Grandma Moses painting. You won’t believe your eyes! A little bit of heaven on this earth.

“Ah, yes, also for winter, tow-rope T-Bar and chair lift to three slopes, a popular rustic ski lodge which services skiers who already flock there, by invitation only, of course. Terrific! And your very own Christmas tree farm. Folks flock here every year to find the perfect tree. Makes thousands of dollars. I always give it to charity, but that’s up to you.

“This is the private property you’ve been dreaming about, haven’t you? A complete package, just waiting for a new owner’s personal touch. Of course, you could just use this as your personal retreat, as I’ve done for years. But I know you. This is a business venture unlike any you’ve seen in a while, or any you’re likely to see. A resort- retreat center that’ll shine like the stars. Work from home, if indeed work is what you must do. This is a business-in-waiting and I’m excited to see what you’ll do with it!

“Includes a working organic farm and petting zoo next door, lots of room to develop campsites, an already established equestrian school and auction facility for thoroughbreds, and a caretaker who’s loved the place for years. Yours for six million, Cinderella deadline September 20^th at midnight.”

The screen turns stark white. Not as bright as angels, but Phil’s sensing their presence.

His head is spinning. Possibilities?

J.S. hands Phil the disc, “Take it home to your sweet Cathy, and dream well tonight, My Man. I think this could be something awesome for a young couple, and your little ones will just thrive at a place like this. It’s been in my family since the late 1800’s and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have there than the Baxters. Sleep on it, if you can sleep at all, and give me a call. I’m heading up there tomorrow morning for a week or so. Makin’ some decisions, talkin’ to my man Brett and his son Rodger, and the Jamiesons. Tell ’em what’s goin’ on. You’ve got my number. I’ll take you on a tour if you and Cathy want to come up for the weekend maybe.”

“Wow, Friend. It’s tempting. Actually got money I need to invest before the end of the year or Uncle Sam gets a big chunk of it. Six million, huh? We’ve been so blessed. Ya know, five years ago, that number would have looked like Mt. Everest. I really think we could do it! Thanks, J.S. for sharing this. You got the wheels turning. I hear your angel-wings fluttering, like so many times before. You’ve blessed me yet again.”

“Hope so, my man. God’s been good to me. Just sharin’ the wealth. Can’t think of a better guy to bless or a better way to do it, within my power, of course.”

So, Phil heads home, a new spring in his step. A brisk walk to his condo, two blocks west, and an elevator ride to the Penthouse. He’s home to the welcoming shouts of Michael and Kelsey, and the loving arms of his Cathy.

Routine.

Little do they realize, this will be their last evening homecoming in this beautiful home setting they love.

Little do they realize, as they later cuddle on the couch, viewing J.S.’s presentation together, that tomorrow’s events will determine their God-directed choice.

The next morning dawns, September 11, 2001.

Both their businesses, and their multi-million dollar condo are destroyed.

With just the clothes on their backs, literally, they leave the school shelter where their children and Nanny Jean have found refuge, and drive north, with thousands of others fleeing the horrific terrorist attack which will change their lives forever. They find hotel space in White Plains, make a quick Walmart trip for essentials and changes of clothes, and try to make sense of the upheaval in their lives and the opportunity laid out before them, certainly as if provided by angels. Certainly not luck. Certainly not chance. God doesn’t work that way.

God’s provision goes before them. They have no fear. They thank Him for the tall hedge of protection He has provided. They continuously pray for guidance with thanksgiving.

Nanny Jean’s son, Frankie and his lovely wife, Judy own a small diner called Dottie’s in Pine Plains, New York, a scant two hour drive north. Their lake cottage is available for their use, a mere forty-five minute drive to Great Barrington.

Meanwhile, before the 9/11 attack, J.S.’s trip to Whispering Woods begins at 7:30. His pilot, Randy, files the flight plan; the private plane trip will take a scant hour and a half. Five minutes before landing, Randy receives an FAA order to land immediately. All flights nationwide have been grounded. Whispering Woods is in sight. They comply. Then they hear the horrific news.

Checking in with J.S. on Wednesday morning, Phil hears the harrowing tale of their forced landing, knowing intuitively it’s all part of God’s deliverance.

He and Cathy make plans to tour Whispering Woods that afternoon. Convinced that when one door closes, and indeed the City scene is telling that story, they know that another opens. Is J.S. their messenger from God yet again?

Cathy too is convinced angels have guided her life. She, like Phil, was touched by tragedy early, by her mother’s sudden murder. Cathy was fifteen. Her Nanny Jean, had been a huge part of her life since birth. Jean naturally took over the mother role through that horrific event in Cathy’s life, and with her away-on-business dad, Ben, Cathy relied more and more on Jean’s guidance and support. Jean’s instruction in spiritual things was both formal, in telling Bible stories and reading Scripture daily with Cathy, and intuitive. Jean lived her Christian life before others. She too had overcome much. Her precious three-year-old daughter Deirdre had been abducted and murdered. Deirdre and her brother, Frankie, had been Cathy’s playmates.

Through it all, Jean’s faith remained strong, convinced that God knew what He was doing, and that children definitely have guardian angels. She often talks even now, with Cathy and Phil’s precious children, about the Matthew passage where Jesus presents a little child as a teaching example, saying “Whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me.” And adds: “See that you do not look down on one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven.” (Matthew 18: 5, 10-11)

By this, Cathy always knew she was protected by angels, and Deirdre was in a place with The Father. And that guiding protection is just as true now for her children, her husband, and their decision about Whispering Woods.

And so, Nanny Jean is not the least surprised that another door is opening. Yesterday was such a scare. She had just delivered Michael to his kindergarten class at PS 234 near their condo. Grabbing Kelsey, Grandma Jean quickly returned to PS 234. As sirens screamed, the principal and teachers were quickly alerted to evacuate the building and walk the children to PS 41 in Greenwich Village. They were told, like Lot’s wife at Sodom and Ghimorah, not to look back. Grandma Jean helped the teachers guide the children several blocks away where they could be more confident of the children’s safety.

She notified Cathy and Phil to tell them where they all were. Harrowing, scary. But God provided the hedge of protection they needed. And Nanny Jean was indeed a guardian angel for countless children, although she would never admit to such a role. As she comforted children, helped provide meals for hundreds of little ones, notified parents, greeted them one by one as they were reunited with their children, safe and sound, she was told over and over again, “Thank you.”  “You’re an angel.”  “What would we have done without you?”

And she gave all the glory to God where it belonged.

Now, she settles the family into her son’s lake cottage, awaiting God’s next revelations.

Phil and Cathy meet J.S., embrace, and begin their tour. The trio is wrapped in the sovereign plan laid out before them. What’s more, messenger angel, John Stewart Robbins and guided by the Spirit angel, Jean, and their personal guardian angels meet to bless the new direction their mortal lives will take at Whispering Woods. And eventually, Phil and Cathy will be angelic presence in the lives of the hundreds they will touch. Perhaps some will see their wings, but most of the time, these angels wear clothes.

 

 

 

 

Biography

 

For more of the story, read Ms. Jackson’s Whispering Woods Christian novel series: Whispering Woods (2015), Winter Wonderland at Whispering Woods (2015) and soon to be published Splendid Springtime at Whispering Woods (2016) All are available at her website, bettyjackson.net and at Amazon.com.  Betty Whitaker Jackson writes fiction, nonfiction, poetry, devotionals, and blogs. In late 2014 she won First Prize in the Reminisce Magazine LifeRich Reader’s Digest Memoir Writing Contest with her short novel, Rocking Chair Porch: Summers at Grandma’s.  She regularly blogs under the title, “The View from Here” on her website, and has published in anthologies Love and Rockets with the Space Coast Writers Guild, and Driftwood with the Brevard County Scribblers. Her newest manuscript, Splendid Springtime, will be her eighth book completed since her retirement after a forty-year teaching career.