Sunflowers

Midorino Mizu

Raphael trailed behind the skipping, dancing figure and sighed deeply.

It wasn’t that he particularly minded being pulled out of his office, but he did have work to do, and it wasn’t like anyone else was going to accomplish it.

After the fiscal disaster only a few months before, and the ensuing chaos, the remaining archangels had collectively decided that someone had to keep the books. Raphael had drawn the short straw.

And thus, his once pristine study had been converted into an office, and all of the material possessions he’d surrounded himself with had been removed. Now he had a chair, and a desk.

The desk always seemed to be on the brink of collapse, from the sheer amount of paperwork placed on it.

He’d liked it better when he hadn’t had to concern himself with the intricities of management.

Heaven was a vast and immeasurable place, but it still had a system of organization, one that was strikingly similar to the one that had been implemented on Earth. Raphael and Gabriel had once discussed the matter, and Gabriel had theorized that human souls remembered Heaven.

Gabriel had always been a bit romantic at heart; Raphael had always had more of a practical viewpoint.

There were nearly unpopulated areas, small villages, and fairly large, bustling towns.

And then there was the City.

The City was the first part of Heaven to manifest itself as something that was so tangible as to be almost a separate entity, and it was the home of most of the Angels.

Lucifer had lived there when he had still been Morningstar. Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael still lived there, because it was the center of all things celestial.

The Earthly realm had more than one city, of course, but each of them was in many ways as much a center as the Heavenly City was.

The City was, in addition to everything else, the center of Heaven’s governing organization.

They had not yet converted to the paperless office. Most of the angels didn’t consider it to be necessary, since there was only one person working on the day-to-day operations.

Raphael was sure that they would have a different viewpoint if they had to deal with the reams of documents. He often wished that he had a more comprehensive staff, and he knew that wish was fairly futile.

He’d suggested it to God numerous times, with a distinct lack of success.

He wouldn’t try suggesting it again today. God was having too much fun dancing through the flowers.

He’d chosen an interesting form today, mused the archangel of healing. For once, He was actually a he.

Lately, the feminine form had been more popular.

God, in those rare instances when he had visually appeared to mortals, looked as they expected Him to look. Which could range anywhere from a rather stern, grandfatherly figure to a representation of Kuan-Yin, the Chinese goddess of mercy.

And God really did look like all of the mortal representations, and infinite others besides. And he liked to play with his image, whenever possible.

Thus the angels, who did see his “true” self, saw whatever God had chosen on that particular day.

Today, he was a small child, a boy, with light brown hair and dark brown eyes, and he was running across an open field.

Raphael rarely saw God’s younger, more innocent forms. On these days, God preferred the company of Michael, because the warrior angel knew how to have “fun.”

When God wanted stimulating, intellectual conversation and argument, he called on Gabriel. Gabriel was calm, reasonable, and one of his own purposes had been the creation and maintenance of the library.

It contained all the books ever written, plus the ones that were only dreamed, and the ones that were simply wished for. And Gabriel had read them all.

Raphael had never had time for that kind of thing. His purpose had always been to keep Heaven itself well organized and well run, and it was a task that involved most of his time. God didn’t call on him often.

When he did, it was generally when He wanted companionable silence, which Raphael was only too happy to provide.

He might work alone, nominally, but his work was rarely silent. A stream of angels and spirits was always present in his office, sometimes taking away paperwork, but more often to add to it.

If that wasn’t the case, then they had questions about the instructions that Raphael had thought was perfectly explicit.

When it seemed almost too overwhelming, when Raphael was about to cross the line between hard sarcasm into dangerous anger, God came to take him away for a picnic somewhere remote and quiet.

The mortal realm was in some ways a mirror of the heavenly realm, and there were as many different kinds of places in Heaven as there were on Earth. If not more.

Raphael liked the quiet wildness of the woods best of all.

Today, though, they weren’t going to the forests.

Raphael shook himself out of his reverie as God stopped spinning and twirling and laughing. He turned His head.

“Is this a good place for a picnic lunch, Raphael?” he inquired in a light voice.

Raphael nodded, brushing his long dark brown hair out of his face. “Of course.”

He spread a blanket on the flat ground, and automatically started pulling items out of the basket and organizing their lunch. It was far simpler fare than he normally partook in, consisting of bread and juice and cheese.

He looked up when he felt a gaze on him.

God had a mischievous look in his brown eyes.

Raphael raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

“Were you expecting caviar?” he asked with a giggle.

Raphael shrugged. “Not necessarily,” he returned. “But perhaps a nice wine to compliment the cheddar cheese.”

“Ah,” said the miniature deity. “But I’m not old enough to drink.”

Raphael blinked at Him.

God sighed. “Raphael, you need to cultivate a better sense of humor.” He stretched out his arms, picking up a slice of bread, and slapping a slice of cheese on top of it. He bit in, and his face broadcasted his pure enjoyment of the simple food.

Most of the beings Raphael was in contact with everyday had the best of intentions, but their intentions were always colored by personal ambition or mixed objectives. Even enjoyment was rarely simple and pure.

The archangel shrugged, and cast his gray eyes towards the ground. “Perhaps,” He said. “But I don’t have time.”

God nodded seriously, and the expression looked incongruous on the tiny, somewhat elfin face. “I understand. And I also understand that your new duties take up even more of your time.

“But Eternity will last a very long time, particularly if you devote it entirely to work.”

Rafael shrugged slightly and sent a small smile at his lunch companion. “Perhaps,” he acknowledged. He quickly put together his own cheese sandwich and bit into it, chewing thoughtfully, and staring off in the distance.

The rest of the meal was passed in relative silence.

***

Normally after lunch, when Raphael had recuperated enough cope with the bustle of his work, they returned to the City, where he would keep an eye on all things related to operational governance, and God…

Well, to be honest, he wasn’t quite sure what God did with the rest of his time. He didn’t think that anyone else knew, either.

This time, however, he was dragged off on further exploration of the field where they had spent the late morning.

His protests, as usual, were unheeded, and to be honest, he didn’t have the heart to deny God anything, especially in this form.

There was something about the bright-eyed innocence of the child that was more touching than the weary gaze of the older form that Raphael usually spent time with.

So he followed God as he was re-introduced to all the flowers and plants that populated the field.

“These are all the plants I ever dreamed of and created, you know,” he said, as they wandered through. Many of the flowers were tiny and delicate, with colors so pure and complex, that Raphael was once again awed by their Creator.

“Yes,” he said. “I know.”

God smiled brightly up at him. “Do you know which is my favorite, though?” He asked.

Raphael shook his head. He was bemused; he knew God was trying to show him something, and he knew it had something to do with their previous conversation, but he was at a loss as to what a conversation about flowers had to do with it.

God held a hand out over the ground, and Raphael felt energy gather under the deity’s outstretched palm. “My favorite flower is the sunflower,” He said.

He pulled his hand back, and a tall yellow flower rose out of the ground. Raphael stared at it.

Sunflowers weren’t pretty flowers, not like roses or violets. They were strong flowers, with faces like suns.

God echoed his thoughts. “The sunflower isn’t pretty,” He said. “But it’s simple, it doesn’t try to be the most for everyone. It does what it does best, and is content with that”

God took his eyes of the sunflower and gazed directly into his angel’s. “I think you need to learn some lessons from the sunflower, Raphael.

“You don’t need to accomplish everything, you know. And you do need to be happy. It’s a long eternity, you know.

“And it won’t end until I say so.”

God winked at him and disappeared abruptly in a bright flash of light.

Raphael blinked at the spot He’d been standing on before, then shrugged and packed up all the things they had brought along.

He had to get back to work; there were certain things that did need to be done that day.

Afterwards, perhaps, he would focus his energies elsewhere.

He might devise a particularly devious way to get back at Michael for his last prank. He hadn’t taken the time to be retaliatory in ages.

It might be fun.

~fin

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