“Why do you persist in this petition, Jodi?” Her Father in Heaven spoke with kindly concern in the manner of an empathetic supervisor, His tone nonjudgmental. Although she could have prayed as a vibrating spirit to an unseen force, Jodi related more easily by shaping a mental portrait of God.
So she envisioned Him, settled in an oversized chair behind a massive desk. In front of Him lay parchment, quills, and an ornate ink stand. In addition, He held an onyx cup on which some impish angel had inscribed in gold, “My Lord is CEO of the Universe.” Jodi’s image portrayed Him in a dark Western-style suit and tie; a gold watch chain dangled from His vest pocket and diamond cufflinks were at His wrists. She imagined the bustle of secretaries and aides around Him while they waited for directives to carry to residents on Earth and in heaven.
Thick gray hair, trimmed above the neckline and ears, framed His genial mien. From under shaggy gray brows his deep brown eyes were filled with compassion, clarity and insight. Jodi knew that countenance could be fiery and stern. But on that particular day He listened to her, one of his petitioners, calling his wisdom to bear on one minor detail in the management of his infinitely vast organization, she pictured a grandfatherly demeanor.
She slowly inhaled, then exhaled. Here was her chance. “Please inspire me with the words,” she prayed. In her nervousness she didn’t pause to consider the paradox: she was requesting help to formulate her plea from The Very One whom she petitioned.
“To become a Guardian for a human, uh…, would be an integrated task, from start to finish, er…, not a piecemeal assignment,” her words became more confident, “As a Special Forces Angel, I rush to the scene, often at the call of a Guardian. I provide the necessary assistance, then, off I go.” She flicked her wrist, “It’s over. Done.” Leaning forward, peering into the depths of his wondrous eyes, “I yearn to devote myself to one person over his or her lifetime.”
"Jodi, Guardians require special talents,” God responded in His rich baritone. She pictured him scratching His chin; His visage serious; His brows crinkling. He continued in the benign, but firm, tones of absolute authority, “You'd be committed to the task for years, for decades, and never, ever, could your attention wander. Jodi, your skills are highly developed for emergency reactions. I expect you’d be bored quickly: you’re in perpetual motion. It’s difficult to think of you, Jodi, sitting silently for hours, hovering over a sleeping child.”
She cringed with dismay. It was true; she rarely sat still. However, she had been sure of her ability to perform the requisite demands. Sadness filled her. It seemed He would deny her a second time. As she panicked, impetuous words spewed out of her lips, “You have to grant me this chance. You just have to!” She saw herself jumping up from the grass, stamping her foot and waving her arms. Her behavior appalled her. How could she be so disrespectful?
But she brightened at the sound of his chuckle, “On the other hand, you know, sometimes it’s interesting to shake things up a bit.” His eyes twinkled, “Angels and humans get stuck in the way-it’s-always-been.” He hesitated, frowned, picked up His cup and rubbed the handle. “I’ll grant your petition, Jodi, but be warned, each individual is crucial. No matter what is happening in the larger world, you are committed to your human. And that’s all. You may be unable to participate in major events. You will be bound by your charge’s destiny and his or her life choices.”
More than once during the past six years, Jodi speculated that God, in His omniscience, knew Gerald would need an atypical Guardian and decided Jodi fit Gerald’s specifications. For Gerald was the opposite of a temperate child. ... From Jodi: Guardian Angel in Training, Part I Chapter 4.