Maybe your mun is. :D

Maybe your mun is. :D

I'm quite sure she is. But shhhhhh. Don't tell anyone!

*reveals your secret to all of TM* Oh, sorry. :D

Mister Smith sat on the low stone wall surrouding the the little Aracadia non-demoninational church and waited, idly swinging his legs back and forth as he passed the time. He was a cherub-face, friendly looking young man in his early 30's – not in the least bit threatening, even though his clothing was a bit threadbare and his knapsack well worn. Easy enough to be mistaken as homeless (in a sense he was), but he didn't want anyone to take him for a stalker or a pervert, hence his decision to sit in front of a church a few blocks away from the high school where he couldn't be accused of having an unhealthy interest in the students.

As it happened, he did have an interest in one particular student. Or rather, the Voice did. It had directed him to this place and time so that he could meet her, and hopefully reassure her. She was not crazy. And she was not alone.

Mister Smith couldn't see the high school from the church. He wasn't even certain this was the path the teenager usually used on her way home. But he knew without any doubt that today of all days, her route would bring her past this church. He waited placidly, enjoying the afternoon sun on his face and the warm breeze. If he noticed the few students who crossed the street and gave him a wide berth, suspicious of a stranger, he gave no indication.

Twenty minutes later he saw her coming toward him. A beautiful young girl – 15 or 16 years of age – with dark hair and expressive eyes, walking alone. She seemed lost in thought and did not cross the street at the sight of him. Supposing she'd even noticed him at all.

Just as she reached the church, Mister Smith said in a quiet but clear voice, "Hello Joan."

"Hello Joan."

I wanted to keep waking. Just keep walking. One foot in front of the other, it's not so hard. Don't stop. Just keep moving.

But I stopped. I always stop.

I looked at Him. Not cute-guy-God, but not too bad either.

I rolled my eyes, ran my fingers through my hair. "Do you ever take a day off?"

"Sometimes," he replied. "It's not a full time job. I do get time off now and then." He offered her a smile that was boyish and completely guileless. "I'm not Him, by the way. God, I mean. I'm just a messenger."

"Oh. So...God took a day off then?" I tried to laugh. What else could I say? I waned to kep waling, just go home. But something about this guy...Great. I must really be losing my mind.

"No. At least, I don't think so. I think He sent me because there's something you need to know. Something you needed to hear from someone else." He shrugged apologetically. "That would be me. I'm not God, but I have a message for you from God. Want to hear it?"

I fipped my hair over my shoulder and gave a sigh. "Do I have a choice? Give me your best shot."

"We all have a choice. But the longer you put something off, the more urgent it tends to become," he said reasonably. He met her gaze with clear hazel eyes that were intelligent and sad and understanding all at the same time. In a quiet, even tone, as if translating from a Voice only he could hear, he continued, "God says, you're not losing your mind, Joan. And you're not alone. There are other messengers who hear Him and see Him. Normal people, just like you, of all ages and races, who don't know why they were chosen but do what He asks because they feel it's the right thing to do. Because there's a plan, even if we can't see what it is. Messengers who sometimes feel as if they're all alone and a bit crazy, because they think no one else can understand what it's like."

He gave her an apologetic little smile. "That's it. That's the message. In case you haven't guessed, I'm one of them. My name is Mister Smith."

I fought the urge to act like an awe-struck fan-girl. "He talks to you?"

I took a deep breath to keep my voice even as I thought what I might say next. But then, reason and rationality kicked in. What if he's lying? What if this is a trick? What if...what if...what if...But he seems so nice, so sincere. Of course he would seem on the up. Doesn't mean he is. Even though he knew my name and he...he knows...about God. But still. What if he's lying?

"I hear His Voice. Not all the time. Like I said, it's not a full time job. But when He speaks to me, I try to do what I'm told, even though I don't always understand the message." He cocked his head, as if listening again, and said sincerely, "I'm not lying, you know. You can ask Him the next time you see Him. But it's okay for you not to believe me. I'd be pretty skeptical, too, if things were reversed. I guess that's why folks think messengers are crazy. We can't really prove it, unless He wants to, but that would defeat the whole eternal mystery thing, ya know?"

"I just hear His Voice. I've never seen Him, like you have. That's pretty cool, actually. Must be a bit unnerving, too, when you don't know if the bus driver or the lunch lady is Him or not until He speaks to you."

"Unnerving. Yeah. That's an understatment." I sighed. It was alao mylife. I've gotten used to it. And isn't it just like God to throw a curve ball just when things start to feel comfortable. Now He's sending messengers. Great. "He has strange sense of humor."

Smith gave a little chuckle. "Yeah. I noticed that. Just when you think you're comfortable with something, He throws you a curve ball."

"You're going to keep seeing Him, you know. Things haven't changed. This isn't a new routine. But I think He sent me so you could see you're really not alone. You're not losing your mind and there are others just like you. If sometimes you have questions or just need someone to talk to who's kinda in the same shoes . . . well, I'm pretty easy to find. And I'll help any way I can. Even if it's just to listen."

"Okay. Great. Uh, and, thanks. I'll...um, I'll see you around, okay? I have to get home."

I had to admit I liked him. And I hoped he was the real thing. What he said he was. Another messenger of God. At last, maybe, someone I could really talk to. So I wouldn't have to bear this burden alone.

"'kay. Nice meeting you."

Mister Smith watched her walk away and was reminded of how he felt when he was first chosen to be a messenger. He felt sorry for her, in a way, but very very proud of her as well. Hard enough to be a teenager with all the turmoil and drama that entailed without having God pick you to carry out His will. She was a strong young lady with a warm heart and a beautiful soul.

Smith had every confidence that God (or rather, His Voice) would let him know if Joan needed to see him again. If and when that time came, he'd do his very best to help her any way he could.

If your muns losing her mind Mines LOOOONG gone. She's had me talking too dead people.