Lazarus, Walk!

When life kicks us in the ass over and over again and the bad times seem endless, angels are sent to us, even in America.

It happened to me. I swear. A total stranger approached me in the emergency room of Brooklyn Hospital Center as my lover died. I believe she was an angel.

I’m not sure if the Black woman with a golden tooth was a good angel or a bad angel. She was creepy though. She knew too much. I didn’t like how she read my aura next dripping I.V.’s and plastic bags in which dying lovers on hospital beds pee.

Two others who were visiting Shawn in the emergency room with me and witnessed the powers of the stranger that day.

“He wants you to know he’s okay and to hold your head up,” the stranger said.

She wasn’t like a Jehovah’s Witness throwing literature my way. She dove into the darkness of my soul and told me things that no one should have known.

“Shawn wants to know why you turned your back and slept on the far side of the bed last night.”

How did she know of our lover’s quarrel?

“He kicked my cat off the bed!” I responded and asked her to leave us alone.

“Pray over him,” she instructed.

Without questioning her or her godly authority I closed my eyes and prayed.

I closed my eyes and placed my hands on the thin white sheet covering my lover and words poured from my soul.

I dripped in sweat as I said that prayer. Words that I did not know spewed forth from my mouth.

His body began to tremble and shake. I opened my eyes and saw a smile on his face. The machines he was connected to jumped to life and started beeping loudly when I delivered that prayer.

Another Black woman approached me in the emergency room. “I hope your friend makes it,” she said with a reassuring smile while laying hands on my back.

I turned to the angel. She smiled at me. I walked outside with her.

She told me other things.

“Your friend, Shawn, who was he?” she asked.

“My lover,” I explained.

“Oh, I know that, but I mean who was he spiritually?”

I started to question her authority. If she knew who he was in the bed with me, why didn’t she know who he was spiritually?

“What do you mean by that?” I asked.

“His spirit is very old and very strong. I heard his voice this morning and it led me here. I hope I am done doing all he wants me to do,” she said with a fearful look in her eyes.

“I had a brother who died from AIDS. He went on because he chose to. Some choose to stay, some choose to go. My brother chose to go. Shawn will stay,” she said.

“Do you mean he will live and get out of the hospital and come home?”

“Yes,” she promised.