Gracie came waltzing into the Playgrounds of the Lord with a happy smile on her face. Along with her were most of the Heaven’s Halos, the overly zealous heavenly girl group from Pawpaw’s neighborhood.

Except for Bumblebless, they all flew off to play, laughing and giggling all the way.

Gracie and Bumblebless were sure talking about something, which naturally caught the attention of Gracie’s bouncy little sisters, Luna and Rosie.

As usual, they zip-zoomed and bounced and—oops!—crashed right into Gracie and Bumblebless.

Or rather, they would have if Gracie hadn’t been prepared.

But prepared she was.

With her usual wave of a hand, both sisters came to a complete stop, frozen wide-eyed in mid-air.

Luna blinked.

Rosie blinked.

Bumblebless winked.

“How does she do that?” asked Luna.

“I dunno,” said Rosie, “but she done did it! And it’s all warms and cozies!”

Bumblebless announced, “We all got our minister permits!”

Luna gasped. “Mini stir permits! That is so cool! What do you stir? Does it have to be tiny?”

Bumblebless laughed, “Not ‘mini stir’ silly, minister. Like a helpful helper, you see?”

Luna: “Oh… you have to be permitted to be helpful?”

“I never thought of that,” said Bumblebless.

Rosie wiggled her nose. “I want to be unstuck now.”

Twinklebit zoomed by and tapped Bumblebless on the shoulder, “Tag, you are the It!”

She flew off at the speed of giggles.

Bumblebless gasped. “No one Its me and gets away with it!”

With that, she came tumbling after her.

Gracie presented her special card to her sisters, reading it to them: “Little Merciful Miracles Ministry Permit. See?”

Luna looked at it sideways, pretending to read the card, and might have fallen over if she hadn't still been stuck.

“And the backside says teeny tiny, ‘Cooperative Cherubic Order of Precious Diminutive Ministers, Kindergarten Division — Pro Tempore Permit.’”

Luna: “Are you speaking in tongues again?”

Gracie: “That just means... um... um…”

Rosie wiggled her toes and giggled. “I want to be unstuck now.”

Gracie: “Well, it just means... well, I'm not sure what it means, except I can go down to Earth if I follow the rules.”

Rosie: “I wants one too.”

So she waved her hands and—poof!—a cookie appeared, and she started nibbling on it.

Gracie: “Well, you can't have one because you're too little.”

Gracie flipped her hand freeing her sisters.

Luna: “Whoopee! I get one! I’m not too little!”

Gracie: “That’s not the way it is. You have to go to the Precious Little Ministers class and learn things.”

Luna: “Okay? What’s that?”

Rosie: “Oh! I learns things!”

Luna: “Then learn to not talk with your mouth full.”

Rosie swallowed hard and opened her mouth.

Rosie: “And now I fills it again...”

She took another bite.

Luna: “Hey, where'd you get that cookie?”

Luna floated into the air and darted toward Aunt Bee's mansion—specifically, the kitchen.

Mysteriously, she was followed by a rosy-pink streak of amenity, anonymity, and cookie crumbs.

Sigh. And alas, poor Squirrelly, who had been, as usual, quietly nibbling away on Aunt Bee's countertop, once again found himself distinctly airborne from the surprise instant visit of two “dainty” little cherubic nonsenses.

Gracie’s plan had worked perfectly. No tagalongs on this trip to Earth.

Whew.

A while later, both Luna and Rosie were all smiles at Aunt Bee’s table when Luna realized, “Hey! She ditched us!”

Rosie: “No, she didn’t. She fed us. And mm, mm, and goodness!” She let Squirrelly take another nibble.

Luna: “I’m talking about Gracie! Aunt Bee, you knew about this, didn’t you?”

Aunt Bee: “If you have any objections, dear one, you don’t have to eat the cookies.”

Rosie: “I had two cookies!”

Luna: “You had three… you ate Squirrelly’s.”

Rosie: “Oh yeah. I forgets.”

Luna: “Well, I’m going to go down to Earth and…”

Aunt Bee pulled a tray of heavenly pastries from her oven and showed it to the girls.

Luna said, exasperated, “That’s just so wrong.”

Rosie: “No, it’s not! It’s so right! Yes!”

Luna sighed and gave in.

She picked up an unnamed pastry and took a tiny nibble.

Her eyes widened.

“These are so good!”

Aunt Bee smiled. “Those are my pastries of virtues.”

Luna looked at the pastry in her hand.

“Which one is this?”

“Patience.”

Luna sighed. “Figures.”

Rosie giggled as Squirrelly scampered over to share Luna’s pastry of immaculate patience.

In the meantime, Gracie plummeted down to Earth in a lackadaisical (for she lacked daisies) fashion, and then landed like a careless leaf of autumn.

She turned to look at Pawpaw’s house and, seeing no one around, the little cherub gave herself the appearance of a little six-year-old girl with neon-green glasses.

Gracie in Disguise with Glasses

This time, she wasn’t going to look for a good deed. She would let the good deeds find her.

And while she waited, she would Hebrews 13:2.

Seeing nothing of interest, she decided to walk about. She turned one way and then another and concluded that there was a whole lot of nothing going on.

But unknown to the recondite angel, the light of her presence caught the attention of a little devil who happened along through the neighborhood. He was so surprised that he ran off to tell another little devil in particular, who promptly socked him one.

Because they are that way, you know.

Well, those little devils told and punched others, and so it got around that there was a disguised little angel with glasses in the general vicinity of Pawpaw’s house.

Which, because of Pawpaw’s supernal reputation with those in the enhanced dimensions, wasn’t at all a surprise.

But for the little devils, the mystery remained:

“Which little angel?”

Most of them had the good—or worst—sense to skedaddle to “Gets-outta-here.”

But not the Lil’ Debils gang.

Fortunately for Gracie, they were busy fussing at each other, tipping over garbage cans, picking their noses with their toeses, scaring kitties, and being general nuisances.

Speaking of which, Snark had put on a mock general’s outfit so he could play “General Nuisance” himself.

And Gripes, having lost the fright, decided to be “Major Pestilence.”

Because of their persistent roll playing and overdramatizing, most of them were paying her not at all attentions.

Now Snide was bewilderedly confused.

See, his pesky little cousin was always making a big, annoying pest of himself, and specifically in his personal locality. And without his despicable little cousin, it was—well, it was more of a bother to be unquestionably mean, pitiful, and wretched.

So he looked high, and he looked low, and yes, even under the mistletoe. But Snip was nowhere to be founded or confounded.

So… he gave up.

But then he heard a familiar gnawing sound.

And some nibbling.

A mouse, perhaps? Or preferably a rat!

Snide was like that.

He followed the nibbling sounds down a dank little alley, and there he found Snip, gnawing away and sometimes nibbling with delight, completely forgetting his naturally nasty disposition, at something he had found lying around.

Which turned out to be…
A BIG BLOCK OF STINKY CHEESE!

You never saw a little devil so happy, so content, so completely in love with his precious BIG BLOCK OF STINKY CHEESE.

Now Snide was about to thoroughly sneak up on him and bonk him most contagiously on the noggin when—

He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

First, being a sneaky sneak was Sneek’s disposition.

And thirdly, being somewhere not around a BIG BLOCK OF STINKY CHEESE was a distance to be maintained.

If you wondered where “secondly” went… I was wondering that myself. Shh, but I think he doesn’t want to admit that he felt a bit of compassion.

Deciding to get far away from the BIG BLOCK OF STINKY CHEESE as immediately and as particularly as possible, he just so happened to escape in Gracie’s general direction.

Because Gracie was in disguise with glasses, at first he believed her to be just any ordinary girl.

So the devious little “schemious” thought he would scare her.

Or maybe just astonish her into a tizzy—

Or, at the very least, make her very dizzy.

But how to perpetrate such a fate?

He thought a ghost he would imitate.

But to fool the angel, he’d have to play it straight.

So he slinked beneath a soffit and transformed himself into…
the ghost of a prophet!

But then he sensed it.

Heavenly virtues in transit.

“Oh no!” he muttered distractedly to himself. “She must be an angel!”

Quickly he would hide, behind some bushes besides.

As Gracie in disguise with glasses approached, the contemptuous Snide revealed himself in a feigned holy glow most suspicious.

“Ooooo,” said the pretend ghost. “Hello, little angel. Do you know who I am? Why, I am a ghost for sure!” declared the feigning one.

Now Gracie had never seen a ghost before, so when the pretend saint displayed himself, well, she just wasn’t sure.

“So you are a ghost? Well, who’d imagine that?” remarked Gracie, who, being an angel, had no inherent fear of such things as ghosts.

“Not many can see. Your eyes, they must be blessed,” he schemed.

“Well, actually, yes. I think I inherited them from my grandfather,” she stated. “He loves Jesus, and through faith and love and wonder, he can see many things.”

And at the mention of Him Most Holy, Snide nearly lost his conviction.

He cleared his throat.

“Not all can be so fortunate.”

Gracie continued, “Well, Mr. Ghost, I have some things to do—”

“Wait!” said the deceitful Snide. “Don’t you know that I am not just any ghost? But one of a prophet! That’s for sure!”

“A ghost of a prophet? That doesn’t seem right.”

“Oh sure! We prophets still like to get around, do things most sincere. You know… just… prophetting… as we will.”

“Prophetting? That seems a bit… different?” stated Gracie.

Snide hid his sneer, “Yes… well… Behold! And it came to pass… that is, it will come to pass that… it has been revealed to me that in the future, if you want what you desire in the future, that you should beware of the diverse calamities that may befall you! If you don’t turn around and go the other away!”

Gracie: “The ‘other’ way? And which way would that be?”

Snide re-lied: “Um, the other, other way? Not this way?” Hoping to turn her around, he pointed to the general position of the currently occupied territory of his gang’s disposition. “Best not to go over there.”

“Well, that’s exactly where I’m going because there is where I need to be. Now, if you’ll please excuse me…”

But Snide hopped in her way, and supplied, “Oh no! You must understand, a terrible fate awaits you over there, so best beware!”

Gracie rolled her eyes and tried to step around him, but he again stepped in front of her.

“AREN’T YOU…” Snide cleared his throat but not his conscience. “Excuse me, but aren’t you listening? You charming little thing — I mean angel, charming little angel? I’m a prophet and I can foresee things that normals can’t see? Listen to me is my plea.”

“Thank you for the warning Mr. Prophet ghost, but I can take care of myself. Now, if you’ll just step aside?”

“Oh but you don’t want me to just step aside…”

Gracie: “Sure I do.”

“No, you don’t! It’ll be bad for you… over there. If you will just listen I plea, an angel of light appeared to me. He was bright and white and quite contrite. He told me that all who come this way must turn around. I’m sure it’s for their own good.”

Gracie: “I don’t think that…”

“Oh of course, you think because you are so smart! Maybe that was not an angel of heaven, but I tell you it was! He smelled of virtues and walked all priestly, and his authority is what matters!”

Now Gracie was sure that his questionable declarations and assertations were quite suspicious.

“You smelled his virtues? Really? And how does one walk all priestly?”

“Yes, well there was kindness and honesty and prudence and absolutely no rudence. And of course longsuffering and… And he walked this way…”

Snide strutted like a model showing off a dress, which was really quite silly, I must confess.

“You are no prophet, of that I am sure,” said Gracie. She stared him in the eyes and demanded, “Just who are you and what are you up to?”

“I told you,” he quivered, “I’m just a ghost… that is a ghost of a prophet… one with —”

“With no confidentials, potentials, and most importantly, credentials? But don’t you know that prophets aren’t ghosts? They are alive in Christ, and their spirits are as the angels. Ghosts are just—well, I don’t know what they are, but if they are not from above, they must be from below!”

“Oh no, I’m a ghost of a prophet, really, and most sincerely,” lied the Snide.

“If you are a prophet, then tell me what happens when a faking ghost entertains an angel in disguise?” demanded the Gracie.

Snide hesitated.

“With glasses?”

“Yes, with glasses,” insisted Gracie.

Snide tried not to tremble. He tried to deceive.

“They make nice and says their good riddens?”

Gracie simply waved her hand and the faking prophet’s false façade vanished.

At the same time, Gracie removed her glasses.

Snide gasped, “Wonder Girlie?!”

“No, look again!”

Snide gasped, “Diana Princess?!”

Gracie put her glasses on Snide, “Now, look again!”

When Snide realized that the girl was our cherubic Gracie and that he had been revealed, that fakir squealed:

“It’s you!”

Snide didn’t stand a prayer, let alone a benediction, so he ran off with all conviction.

Forgetting that his lost soul was supposed to be terribly surly, he ran off screaming most girly.

Gracie just couldn’t help herself.

She launched at him a wave of humility and remorse, which stuck him upside his downside.

Snide couldn’t believe it himself.

“Ah oooo!” shouted the revealed Snide.

He ran down the street, turned down the lane, and into the alley, tripping right over Snip and — you guessed it, and we all know what — his oh-so-precious BIG BLOCK OF STINKY CHEESE.

You never saw a little devil so content, so peaceful, so serene, so thoroughly tripped over.

Now, we won’t mention what Snip said to Snide or what Snide said to Snip, except to say that they were things we should never say!

And that Snip thoroughly bit Snide’s detail that day.

“Not my tail! Always, without fail there’s that particular detail!”

Gracie couldn’t help but smile. Was this a good deed or no? She did not know, but back to Heaven she did go.

Upon her arrival, there were her sisters waiting for her, with their welcomes and smiles and their all the whiles.

Luna asked her most anxiously, “Did you do many good things?”

Gracie: “I don't want to boast, but met a prophet, a little devil, and a ghost, and gave them my most. May they feel blessed, flabbergasted, and reprimanded.”

Rosie mused, “I saws you, you booted that little devil’s tail!”

Gracie smiled, and put her finger to her mouth. “Shh. Perhaps we should not mention that little detail?”

Luna twirled and laughed, “That must have been Snide, that’ll fix his stride!”

And so Snide’s perceptions of misperceptions, conceptions, and deceptions will need more apperceptions if he wishes better receptions.

And so boys and girls, the moral of the story is: “Never trust a ghost, because they are just little devils trying to profit.”

Whew! That was quite a “scary” ghost story. Somehow I was expecting something more dire. More boos, frights, and nights—something more dreary, eerie, or feary.

BOO!

Snide the Prophet?