Squeaky, the Littlest Angel

Once upon a time, the littlest angel in all of creation kept getting stepped on, bumped around, pushed aside or sat upon. When the Boss created angels from nothing, a little bit of nothing accidentally spilled over and brought into being Squeaky, an angel so tiny he could stand eyeball to eyeball with an ant.

One day, Gabriel, Heaven’s concertmaster, called together the entire choir of angels. He had a most important announcement. In the flash of an instant, they assembled in the great concert hall. (Angels are ethereal, you know. They have no body like us earthlings. They can flit from place to place faster than a thought about cookies and milk.)

Gabriel rapped on his music stand for attention. The jovial jostling, bumped haloes and chattering voices drowned any chance of being heard. He rapped harder but the din grew louder. He was about to blow his horn for attention when a great screech rattled all the haloes into silence. The startled angels quit jabbering and listened.

“Thank you, Squeaky,” Gabriel said. He was always amazed that such a loud raspy voice came from someone so small, and the angelic pandemonium that happened whenever Squeaky yelled, “Look out!”

Gabriel continued. “The Boss told me today that he intends to send his son to Earth in order to help the people find the path of righteousness. He wants all of us choir angels to announce the tidings of his arrival with the best and most musical songs we can sing.”

All the haloes in the hall hummed and sparkled as the angels murmured with joy. This was a great honor. Funny thing about haloes; they are unique to each angel and a vital part of an angel’s personality. When an angel is happy, the halo hums and shines with a golden radiance. No one knows what happens if an angel and halo were ever separated.

Gabriel rapped on the music stand again and said, “Now, let us rehearse.”
Before he could raise his baton, one of the front row angels whispered to Gabriel. “What can we do about Squeaky?”

“I don’t know,” Gabriel whispered back. “Maybe we could sing loud enough to cover his voice.”
The plan spread among the other angels. They sang loud but Squeaky squawked louder. The choir sang louder still, but Squeaky’s voice topped them all. The discord became so bad that Lucifer, the fallen angel who lived far, far below, had to plug his ears.

Gabriel motioned, “Time out!” He lifted Squeaky up to eye level and said, “Squeaky, I’m sorry to say the magnitude of your singing causes immense disharmony. I must ask you to sing no more.”
The littlest angel slumped. Tears came to his eyes. His halo dimmed to a tiny spark. He was so looking forward to greeting the Boss’s son with the other angels.

Squeaky’s heartfelt disappointment saddened Gabriel. “Let me speak with the Boss,” he said. “Maybe we can come up with something.”

Sure enough, Gabriel came back with good news. “The Boss understands your situation. He will allow you to materialize when his son arrives on Earth and be his companion. In a manner of speaking, you will become his right hand man.”

Squeaky shrugged in acceptance. The spark in his halo flared in anguish. How could he express great tidings and joy when he was to be nothing more than a baby sitter?

The great day came. Angelic hosannas rang across the Earth and woke up dozing shepherds everywhere. Squeaky knelt beside the crib and smiled, but he felt he wasn’t giving his all. There must be something more that he could offer. He reached up to scratch his ethereal head when his hand brushed against his halo. He looked down at the babe in his mother’s arms. “Something is missing,” he said to himself. “I wonder….”

Then, it came to him!

He was so excited he ripped off his halo, breathed on the dings and rubbed them with a corner of the swaddling cloth. The halo shone with a golden glow
Squeaky placed the halo over the child’s head. At that moment, he felt himself swell to a full sized angel. His raspy squeaks dissolved into melodious tones. He began to sing with a voice clear and sweet. Much to his surprise, and to Gabriel’s amazement, he could sing tenor and bass, as well as soprano and alto. He zipped in and out of the various choir sections without missing a beat.

The music paused, except for a long tenor note, followed by a bass tone, then all four musical pitches blended into a chorus of one.

“Wow! Listen to that!”

“ Is that our Squeaky?” All the angels sang in wonder and rejoiced. They were so proud of him. At last, Squeaky was one like them, and never before nor ever since were the hosannas sung with such gusto.
And that, my Dears, is how Squeaky, the littlest angel, grew to full size with the most melodious voice in all of creation, and ho

Author: Don Clifford

Don Clifford is an armchair historian and archaeologist who has traveled through many of the countries that provide locales for the story’s main character, Abel ben Solomon. He is also, a retired USAF officer who trained as a navigator. While researching ancient navigation techniques, which are featured in the story, he learned the old ways are still practical with an added boost from Crichton E.M. Miller’s book, “The Golden Thread of Time.”


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