It’s a little-known fact that angels are often on the scene of life’s most ordinary miracles. And so it was that Gabe and Sam found themselves seated high in the branches of an oak tree, watching a group of teens huddled together below, their young faces marked with the raw ache of grief. They had lost a dear friend, Charles, in a tragic accident, and though words could hardly touch the depths of their pain, they had gathered here to remember him in their own way.
Tonight, Gabe and Sam weren’t alone. Beside them was the Great Recorder of Divine Lessons, who sat with an open journal, pen poised, a reverent stillness about him that made him look as if he, too, felt the weight of what was about to unfold.
“These moments,” the Recorder said softly, “they teach all of Heaven something about the resilience of the soul.” There was no hint of detachment or routine in his words. Rather, he gazed intently down at the teens, his heart as full as that notebook of his. “I can only hope I’ll capture the beauty of it.”
Sam nodded. “You’ll do just fine. But this one isn’t about the words anyway.”
Down below, George, Victoria, Evan, and Elias sat close together, a group of friends brought even closer by their shared loss. For a long time, they were silent. And then George, picking absently at the grass, broke it. “I keep thinking Charles would be the one cheering us up right now, telling us to knock it off and stop being so serious.”
Victoria managed a faint smile. “Yeah, he’d probably make some joke that’s half terrible and half brilliant. I can hear him now, calling us all ‘sentimental saps.’”
A soft laugh rippled through the group, as they remembered how their friend could fill a room with laughter. It was then that a new presence joined them—quiet, soft, but so real it almost felt like the warmth of another hand on each shoulder. It was the Holy Ghost, moving among them as if with arms outstretched, wrapping them in the comfort only He could bring.
Gabe smiled as he felt the Spirit’s influence settle over the group. “Look, Sam—the Holy Ghost is here, right on time.”
Sam’s eyes shone. “Always. And He knows just what they need. Every time, it gets to me.”
The Recorder watched with awe, his pen capturing the scene, but his gaze lingering on the way each of the friends seemed to lighten, as if some weight was being lifted. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured, barely writing. “The way He comes when they need Him most. They may not see Him, but they feel Him.”
Evan, down below, could feel that warmth filling him, even though he couldn’t quite name it. He sighed, lifting his head and speaking softly. “Do you remember that time Charles brought his dog to school and told everyone it was an emotional support animal? That it was ‘for mental enrichment’?” A laugh escaped him as he shook his head. “Principal Henderson was this close to calling his parents before Charles convinced him it was part of a science project.”
George laughed, tears in his eyes. “And the whole time, Charles acted like he was totally serious. That kid could have sold Buster as an astronaut if he wanted to.”
Their laughter echoed under the oak tree, breaking through the sorrow like sunlight streaming through clouds. Up above, Gabe brushed a tear from his own eye, and the Recorder, watching closely, set his pen down. “This,” he whispered, “is what Heaven records. Not just the laughter, but the way they’re helping each other lift the sadness.”
And then, almost as if on cue, a small acorn dropped from a branch above, landing with a gentle “thunk” on George’s head.
“Ouch!” George yelped, rubbing his head as the others laughed, their smiles stretching wider.
“See, that’s exactly what Charles would do,” Victoria chuckled. “He’d find a way to mess with us just to get us laughing.”
Elias grinned, looking up. “Maybe he is,” he murmured, smiling toward the sky.
The Recorder leaned in, his gaze softening as he watched the teens feeling, in their own way, that Charles was with them. His heart full, he lifted his pen and wrote, In their laughter, they feel him still, as if his love lingers here, drawing Heaven close.
And just when it seemed the Spirit’s work was complete, the Holy Ghost’s presence grew even stronger, filling the quiet night with a peace so deep and gentle that each friend felt held. Victoria took a deep breath, feeling it wrap around her, a quiet whisper in her heart reminding her of something she hadn’t quite dared to believe. “You know,” she said quietly, “maybe Charles isn’t as far away as we think. It’s almost like... maybe he’s still with us, somehow. Maybe he’s in good hands.”
The Recorder paused, his eyes damp. “That’s the truth they needed, isn’t it?” he whispered. “It’s not the absence of their friend they’re feeling tonight—it’s the presence of Heaven, filling the empty spaces.”
Evan, feeling that quiet peace settle deep in his heart, nodded. “Yeah, I think he’s still around. And I think we’ll be okay.”
The Recorder jotted down one last note with reverent care. He lifted his gaze, his voice gentle. “There. That’s the miracle worth recording.” He closed his notebook, his heart full as he watched the teens embrace the hope and love that had come to them tonight.
As they prepared to leave, Gabe and Sam looked down one last time, hearts lifted by the grace of what they had witnessed. They knew that the Holy Ghost’s comforting presence would remain, strengthening each friend as they carried forward the memory of their dear friend Charles.
“It’s a miracle every time, isn’t it?” Gabe whispered to the Recorder.
The Recorder nodded, tucking his journal close to his heart. “It is,” he said softly. “And to think we get to watch love like this—Heaven reaching down for those who need it most. There’s nothing in all of creation quite like it.”
