Sunday night, March 26, 1995 was the greatest night of my life thus far. I am sure of it.
I called Emily around 3:00 p.m. It was 2:00 p.m. in Crestview. That was the first time I had heard her voice in nearly 18 months. She sounded beautiful. We talked for 30 minutes because she had to be at church at 2:30 p.m. I gave her my number and she called me back at 11:00 p.m. that night.
I thought she was 20 years old, but she is 16. She was 14 when I met her. She never told me her age, I just figured she was 18. It surprised me, but it didn’t bother me.
Only her and I will know how special that conversation was. We talked about each other.
She loves me. She loves me for who I am. She doesn’t know what I look like now. She sees me as me, as special, as an eagle.
I saw her for who she really is Sunday night. I held her Sunday night.
She is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen, yet I don’t know what she looks like now either. All I see is her spirit.
We talked for an hour and a half. I told her I loved her. She told me she loved me.
I wish I could tell you more about it, but you will be hearing more about Emily.
I point you to Hebrews 13:2, “Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.”
This is Emily. Except she is not a stranger. I have never felt so close to a person before. Our bodies are hundreds of miles away. But our spirits hold each other every night.
Goodnight my Angel.