December 10, 2025 #nudgejobs

I must’ve been half-asleep, half-dreaming when I felt the mattress dip — just a tiny bit — like someone sat down next to me.

Which meant one thing:
The gang was here.

Again.

Catalina whispered first, sitting cross-legged at the edge of my bed, hoodie off so her dark curls framed her sweet face.
We were just talking about your newsletter, she said. The part about God slipping in fun? We LOVE that stuff.

I blinked.
How did you--

Then Sally floated in like a glittery vessel in a Christmas Boat Parade.

Darling, we read everything you write. It’s heavenly entertainment.

Great. Zero privacy even in sleep.

And Sally smelled like she had marinated herself in 1964 lipstick and powder.

Coco jumped off the bed, offended by her very existence.

Joe wandered in behind her, already looking apologetic, like he knew Sally was about to take over the entire room.

Donna trailed after him, arms crossed, muttering under her breath.

Sally started lecturing immediately.
God handles the big things, she said, waving a hand. You know — parting seas, changing hearts, organizing miracles. The dramatic Broadway numbers.

Then she leaned in, whispering like she was telling me about a sale at Macy’s.

But the small things? Oh honey… that’s where we come in.

Catalina giggled.
It’s true. God’s like: “Team, nudge THAT ONE. She’s drifting.”

Joe raised a hand.
Sometimes it’s a soft nudge. Sometimes--

Donna cut in, sometimes it’s Joe missing the assignment and bumping into the wrong person!

Joe looked offended.
That was ONE TIME.

I asked what kind of “nudge jobs” they did.
That opened the floodgates.

Catalina lifted her chin proudly.
Sometimes I make someone smell the perfume I used to wear. Just for a second. So they know I’m close.

Then she shrugged.
Or when people ignore my sign, I black out and go full Rambo. Someone's Stanley is get-ting yee-ted.

Sally tossed her hair like she was in a shampoo commercial.
I prefer more dignified interventions. I once made a woman’s radio turn on to her wedding song. She cried for twenty minutes. Very rewarding.

Donna nodded.
I helped a man find a parking spot during rush hour. He thanked God, but I was like — sir, I RAN for that spot.

Joe looked at me and said quietly:
Sometimes people can’t feel God yet, but they can feel us. So God lets us be the bridge. Just until their hearts open.

I felt that one.

⸻

Then Sally clapped her hands, startling everyone including herself.
Oh! And don’t forget the lost selenite business!

They all looked at me knowingly.

I groaned. Yes, yes, the selenite that always turned up right before something wild in my life…

Joe nodded.
God’s way of saying “gear up.”

Catalina added,
And the last time you found it after--

She stopped, eyes softening.

Well… that one was God holding you. Hard.

Sally floated closer, unusually gentle for a moment.
Small miracles prepare us for the big ones, darling. Even the painful ones.

Then she smirked.
And sometimes the small miracles are just… us messing with you because you need a laugh.

Donna snorted.
Tell her about the time the Bible app opened on Joe’s phone.

Joe threw his hands up.
I DID NOT OPEN IT! GOD DID!

Catalina whispered to me,
We absolutely opened it.
⸻
I lay back against my pillow, shaking my head as they started bickering, overlapping, teasing each other like a celestial comedy hour.

They may be spirits, but the chaos?
That’s all personality.

I closed my eyes as they chatted about their “side gigs” for God — a scent here, a song there, a nudge toward hope, a whispered memory at exactly the right moment.

Small miracles, big love.

And just before I drifted back to sleep, I heard Sally’s voice — soft, for once.
We never say no when God asks us to help.
It’s the best job we EVER had.

Then Coco hissed at someone (probably Sally), and the room faded to quiet.