Exiled for a minor slip, an angel misses heaven’s joys in a year-long earthly stint, facing loneliness until a mix-up with a “fellow angel” teaches him about true temptation and forgiveness.
For a mistake not as serious as Lucifer’s, which didn’t end up in a “fall,” an angel got hit with a one-year world exile penalty, which meant a ton of missed-out happiness.
A year of heavenly bliss? That’s like endless joys and treasures our basic senses and limited imagination can’t even start to grasp.
But the angel, feeling sorry and not wanting to make a fuss, didn’t argue. He just looked down, spread his wings, and took a slow, steady dive down to our planet.
Landing here hit him with a wave of loneliness and isolation right off the bat. He was a stranger, and in his human disguise, no one recognized him either.
This got pretty unbearable fast because angels aren’t the type to sulk or be loners; they thrive on being social butterflies, hardly ever alone, and love hanging out, singing glory to God, chilling near His throne, or just exploring Paradise together. Plus, they’re like a tight squad, always sticking together.
Fed up with all the strange faces and indifferent vibes by his first evening down here, he ducked out of a big city, plopped down by the roadside on a milestone, and looked up at the sky hiding his home, all lit up in a cool green with a hint of orange at sunset.
He sighed, missing his home but knowing well that divine orders aren’t up for debate. As dusk settled, he just sat there, hands supporting his head, letting out tears of regret, not just for the punishment but feeling bad about disappointing God, who he loved big time. Despite his slip-up, this angel was still one of the good ones.
When he started feeling a bit better, he noticed where his tears had fallen, a bunch of white flowers, daisies, popped up super fast, shining with pearl-like petals and golden hearts.
He gently picked each amazing flower and tucked them into his cloak. Bending down, he spotted something white—a piece of paper, looks like part of a newspaper.
He wasn’t about to let some text trip him up; so he read it, and to his surprise, a piece titled “To an Angel” caught his eye.
“To an angel!” What are the odds? He dived into the read, piecing together from the poem that this angel was kicking it on Earth, in some city house described down to the jasmine-covered window grill and overflowing garden.
“Must be one of my brothers,” he figured, “punished just like me. How cool it’ll be for him to see me! And I’m sure that’s him. The poem’s pretty clear about an angel living among us, accidentally here but might head back to heaven any day… Time to find him, pronto.”
No sooner said than done. He made for the city, clueless about where his brother might be but felt sure he’d find him soon, maybe even get a hint from some unique scent around the angel’s place.
So he started weaving through the streets under the bright moon, checking out every jasmine and rose bush he came across.
Then, on this super quiet street, a jasmine scent had his heart racing; not heavenly but close enough. And there, behind a grille, was a stunning face framed by dark hair… No mistake, here was the fellow angel he’d been looking for, meant to ease his loneliness. He moved closer, heart pounding.
What exactly they talked about, history doesn’t say. But right away, without much fuss, they agreed—yeah, the person behind the grille was an angel, used to the compliment, not weirded out by another prose shout-out. Shows you how off-track bad poetry can throw you, doing more damage than a swarm of locusts.
The exiled angel realized this angel had it worse, stuck and closely watched, only able to sneak peeks through the grille for some fresh air and small talk. He vowed to swing by every night, making those once-long days fly by until their chats.
Night talks stretched longer until, with dawn creeping and stars fading, he’d leave, floating on cloud nine, like he was back in heavenly light. But the confined one got more demanding, wondering when he’d break free.
To keep spirits up, the angel shared those magical daisies until he had to admit, maybe this lock-up was God’s plan, not to be messed with. The response? A scoff. Next night, to his shock, a veiled figure slips out, grabs his arm, whispering, “We’re free… Take me with you… before they notice.”
Caught off guard, he didn’t even reply; they just booked it, out of the street, the city, into the mountains. It was a perfect May night. Under a tree, he was just happy to be together; her—not so much, getting all worked up for more action, questioning why he wasn’t more pumped, talking life plans or marriage.
He just stayed chill, clearly happy, smiling away, holding her close, looking skyward like he was waiting for a pastry drop from the moon. She went from puzzled to ticked off, stepping back, and when he gently asked what was up, she slapped him hard across the face and bolted for the city. And he’s just there, not even mad, just sad, realizing, “The poet got it wrong. She wasn’t an angel.”
Right then, the clouds part and real angels swoop down all smiles. He’s forgiven, having passed the toughest test—resisting temptation. God’s calling him back.
As he rises, joining the angelic chorus, he can’t help but look back, sighing over a dream left behind… But man, did that jasmine smell great!
Also Read: An Angel in Disguise
