A Lovely Man

He was a lovely man; I was not a follower But I was a believer in his Godliness and his goodliness. His name was Jesus, and I knew he did not deserve to be there. Nailed to a cross. It was excruciating to watch. I had known him but a day or so, but he had been kind. He had taken a moment to listen and to smile. I was one of the servers at his meal and it was a pleasure to meet him. He was appreciative and thanked us. Humble, unassuming, sweet. I asked my mother why such a man would be on a cross. She was as confused as I was; but we knew better than to ask. I had to turn away, it was too hard for me to bear. I prayed for the man, the one many said was God’s son. I turned back for one last look. There were angels. Their wings had covered him. I said to my mother “Look!” She turned. “What am I looking at?” she asked me. “The angels!” I shrieked. They are covering Jesus. She put her hand over my mouth to shush me. She knew the laws. I could have been stoned to death for what I saw. Pontius Pilate could be listening for all we knew. I felt better after I saw the angels, knowing Jesus was safe.