'We Will Have to Try Again'
The danger of an expectant mother's pregnancy ends in a true miracle of birth.
By Joan Wester Anderson
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/190/stor ... mc_id=NL24
Reprinted with permission from Joan Wester Anderson's website.
Sherry Moore Budniak of Lagrange, Kentucky, had never thought of dreams as special. She had just given birth to her third daughter and then gone through a tubal ligation afterwards. Because of a rocky marriage, she had decided not to bring any more innocent children into a household where things were more like a nightmare than a dream. Soon after the surgery, her husband left her. Sherry worked hard to keep her little family together. On occasion, little signs often reminded her that she was not alone. “Once my four-year-old told me that she often saw two bright angels following me everywhere,” Sherry says. “Sometimes, I simply felt a presence around me.” Often, she prayed that God had not forgotten her and would bring a good man to love and appreciate her.
Several years passed before Sherry met Chris, a wonderful man, and an answer to her prayers. They were soon married. “Chris is a caring husband, and a wonderful stepfather to our daughters,” Sherry reveals. “He never once mentioned his regret at not having a child of his own.” Even so, Sherry knew how he felt. When she consulted her physician, he said he believed there was a chance Sherry could become pregnant again. “We began an agonizing journey,” Sherry says. “Finally, things worked out!” The couple was overjoyed. Sherry knew this baby would have all the love it needed.
One day in May 1998, Sherry came home from work unusually exhausted. She was midway through her pregnancy and had been feeling well. But now she went to bed, and fell into a deep sleep. At one point, she felt a light touch on her toe. Immediately, she opened her eyes and looked at the clock. Three-thirty a.m. Then, Sherry saw something else. “There, standing by the bed was a very tall woman with dark wavy hair,” she says. “It was an angel. It seemed to be floating and glowed the most glorious shade of blue. For some reason, I wasn’t afraid at all.” She was also not in pain.
The woman spoke. “Get up, Sherry. We will have to try this again.”
Sherry obeyed. Horrified, she discovered that she was bleeding profusely. Chris called her physician, and they rushed to the hospital. Sherry had miscarried. Furthermore, she had been near death. “If you hadn’t awakened when you did,” the doctor told Sherry, “you would have bled to death.”
Sherry hadn’t awakened by accident--she was sure of it. Nor was her vision just a dream--it was far too clear. But, she was heartsick. Had it been wrong of her to try and have another baby? Should she and Chris abandon their dream?
One night later on, she remembered something the angel had told her. “My angel said, ‘WE will have to try this again',” she told Chris. “I think, if we do try to have another baby, it will happen this time.”
Her husband wasn’t so sure, but his longing for a child overcame his objections. Nineteen months later--just before Christmas--Chris and Sherry brought their new baby daughter home.
During her second pregnancy, Sherry never saw the dark-haired woman. But, Sherry says: “I will remember her until I die, and treasure the experience. I fully expect to see her again someday.”
Angels
Get to Know Your Spirit Guides
'Start noticing what's good in your life, what's beautiful in your world because the spirit world is beautiful.'
Interview by Sherry Huang
Growing up in a psychic and Catholic household, Sonia Choquette became fully aware of angels and spirit guides at 5 and began giving psychic readings at 12. Sonia received degrees from the University of Denver and the Sorbonne in Paris before becoming a full-time psychic. Her latest book, Ask Your Guides, explores how we can raise our frequency levels (the intensity of our energy's vibration) and contact our daily helpers. She will soon be on tour (the theme: "Wake Up Your Spirit and Connect to Your Guides"), helping others get in touch with spirit guides.
Listen to Sonia Choquette:
How angels help you in life
Growing up with spirit guides
How to raise your frequency level
How to banish negative entities
Sonia's prayer to spirit guides
The link to the above audio files are given at:
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/188/story_18849_1.html
What is the difference between angels and spirit guides?
Angels have never had a physical incarnation. Spirit guides have once been physical beings—however, there are some guides that come from other solar systems—but angels have never been in the physical human form.
What would you say to people who tell stories about someone who helps them through something and then disappears?
That’s probably an angel. How Angels Help You in Life
Angels are there to walk you through your life path and help you fulfill your purpose. Whenever you’re in a situation where you’ve been spared or protected or in some way assisted, especially when you were feeling endangered, threatened, insecure—those are usually angels. They can take on a physical form to connect with you. I have several incidents in my book where I actually met an angel. They can take on a physical form but it’s just a temporary form. One woman was on the highway and ran out of gas, and a little man drove up out of nowhere, just got out of his car, put gas in the car, and drove off.
What about spirit guides?
Spirit guides are a bit different. Your spirit guides are assistants. They’re there to help you in practical areas; they’re your helpers. They might help you in health matters; those are healers. They might be there to help you evolve your consciousness; those are teachers. They might just be there just to help lighten your heavy emotional life; those are joy guides. And they’re all there to help your journey on earth be a more positive, successful, and pleasurable one. There are as many spirits in the spirit world as there are people in the physical world. Growing Up With Spirit Guides
The one thing about having grown up with spirit guides is that I have never had a moment in my life where I’ve felt alone, by myself, on my own, or ever felt like I didn’t have any support. It’s not part of my experience because of my awareness of guides. And this is something I feel everybody should have the benefit of.
Are all spirit guides friends and family who have passed on?
Friends and family, that’s one area. We have helpers who come in who are interested in helping us. So, it’s not just friends and family; we attract teachers who come in because we’re studying something or learning something that they’ve excelled in.
What would angels look like in their spiritual form?
Well, angels in their spiritual form are pretty much just a glowing light. Radiant. One of my angels took the physical form of a very dark-skinned black man. He saved my life.
Tell me more about your religious background. How did it help you tune into spirit guides?
In my Catholic upbringing, we were raised with angels and saints. My family believed that the spirit body lived on and went to heaven, so we also were very connected to extended family and ancestors. I believed angels existed and we would set a place at the table for the guides and the angels. Now, I'm what I call an "expanded Catholic" (laughter). I am definitely a very strong lover and follower of Christ as my master-teacher guide. I definitely celebrate the basic tenets of the faith, but I am not your traditional Catholic.
How is contacting spirit guides different from contacting God or Christ through prayer?
I don’t think there’s a difference. In fact, you ask God for help. They’re his helpers.
Why do you think more people aren’t in touch with angels and spirit guides?
Because we’ve become such a left-brain, ego-based, egocentric culture, we’ve lost touch with the mystical and we’ve become disengaged from our own spirit, so that it’s hard to embrace the spirit world. I think that’s the biggest reason people are disconnected.
You mention some of your personal spirit guides are called “The Pleiadian Sisters." How would people find out the names of their angels and spirit guides?
Well, one of the ways they can do that is automatic writing. They can write to their guides and take whatever pops in their mind as the answer. A rose is a rose is a rose. You know, your guides will give you their names but the ego mind often rejects it. It’s like, “Oh, it can’t be that. I’m making it up.” When, in fact, you’re not. Believe it or not, it comes.
What are three practical steps that people can follow to raise their frequency?
Step One, do become sensitive to your spirit. Become interested in the spirit of others, including the spirit of your animals and trees. Just begin to notice the subtle essence within every person. Step Two, be sober. We are food-drunk, money-drunk, drunk-drunk, drug-drunk, prescription drug-drunk, television-drunk, and all of that desensitizes our awareness. Step Three, be grateful. How to Raise Your Frequency Level
Begin to notice what is, instead of what is not. Start noticing what’s good in your life, what’s beautiful in your world because the spirit world is beautiful.
Is there a way to distinguish spirit guides from negative entities?
The only way you can positively know you’re working with guides is to look through the heart. The minute you start to analyze and intellectualize, you disconnect. Here’s an example. I just came back from an eight-day workshop in Kauai. It’s the biggest workshop I teach all year. The weather was threatening to devastate the workshop. We all asked the guides, the water spirits, to hold off the rain while we were teaching. Every day severe thunderstorms were predicted, but they didn’t occur until the last day. Then, all hell broke loose. I mean, it rained so much that two-thirds of the island was flooded, but it didn’t start until we were saying goodbye to people who came to our workshop. So, to me, I know for sure, those guides helped us. They kept the rain at bay. We were just on our knees thanking them because we made it.
What are three practical steps to banish negative entities?
Negative entities tend to attach to people when they are, first, not sober because it makes them easy to infiltrate. Second, when they are goalless. It’s like when you’re wandering around a city street at night and you have no goals; you’re more prone to attract muggers. It’s the same in the spirit world. As you open up to spirit guides, have goals. I don’t want to just contact anything; I only want good guides that can help me with XYZ. And the third thing is to pray. Pray, or if you’re uncomfortable with that word, meditate and surround yourself with a positive white light. Appreciate the beauty of you, and you will have no problem with negative entities.
How to Banish Negative Entities
Negative entities prey on our own self-doubt and our own self-rejection. Attracting a negative entity is like catching the flu, and you just start praying and you take your psychic vitamins, meditation, and prayer. If you feel like you have a negative vibration, just say, I banish you to the light. You don’t belong here. You can’t stay here. Go to the light. And that’s about all you need to do.
What if someone goes through life without connecting with his spirit guides? Will the spirit guide try to contact him?
No, the thing about spirit guides is that you have to invite them in; they cannot intrude upon you.
What would you say to those who are skeptical of the existence of angels and spirit guides?
Personally, it’s not interesting to me to try to convince anybody. I’m much more excited to help the people who are receptive and want to start having the magical, positive experience of inviting their guides in to help them. A closed mind is like an unplugged TV. I can talk to you until the cows come home, but if your TV’s unplugged, you’re not going to see the show.
What prayer do you say to call on your angel and spirit guides?
Before I even open my eyes and take a breath, I start the day with: Sonia's Prayer to Spirit Guides
Divine spirit, use me this day, move me in the highest direction and open my heart for all the support to achieve my highest good and to be of service to this world. That’s my morning prayer; it really puts me in a position to be receptive to help.
'Start noticing what's good in your life, what's beautiful in your world because the spirit world is beautiful.'
Interview by Sherry Huang
Growing up in a psychic and Catholic household, Sonia Choquette became fully aware of angels and spirit guides at 5 and began giving psychic readings at 12. Sonia received degrees from the University of Denver and the Sorbonne in Paris before becoming a full-time psychic. Her latest book, Ask Your Guides, explores how we can raise our frequency levels (the intensity of our energy's vibration) and contact our daily helpers. She will soon be on tour (the theme: "Wake Up Your Spirit and Connect to Your Guides"), helping others get in touch with spirit guides.
Listen to Sonia Choquette:
How angels help you in life
Growing up with spirit guides
How to raise your frequency level
How to banish negative entities
Sonia's prayer to spirit guides
The link to the above audio files are given at:
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/188/story_18849_1.html
What is the difference between angels and spirit guides?
Angels have never had a physical incarnation. Spirit guides have once been physical beings—however, there are some guides that come from other solar systems—but angels have never been in the physical human form.
What would you say to people who tell stories about someone who helps them through something and then disappears?
That’s probably an angel. How Angels Help You in Life
Angels are there to walk you through your life path and help you fulfill your purpose. Whenever you’re in a situation where you’ve been spared or protected or in some way assisted, especially when you were feeling endangered, threatened, insecure—those are usually angels. They can take on a physical form to connect with you. I have several incidents in my book where I actually met an angel. They can take on a physical form but it’s just a temporary form. One woman was on the highway and ran out of gas, and a little man drove up out of nowhere, just got out of his car, put gas in the car, and drove off.
What about spirit guides?
Spirit guides are a bit different. Your spirit guides are assistants. They’re there to help you in practical areas; they’re your helpers. They might help you in health matters; those are healers. They might be there to help you evolve your consciousness; those are teachers. They might just be there just to help lighten your heavy emotional life; those are joy guides. And they’re all there to help your journey on earth be a more positive, successful, and pleasurable one. There are as many spirits in the spirit world as there are people in the physical world. Growing Up With Spirit Guides
The one thing about having grown up with spirit guides is that I have never had a moment in my life where I’ve felt alone, by myself, on my own, or ever felt like I didn’t have any support. It’s not part of my experience because of my awareness of guides. And this is something I feel everybody should have the benefit of.
Are all spirit guides friends and family who have passed on?
Friends and family, that’s one area. We have helpers who come in who are interested in helping us. So, it’s not just friends and family; we attract teachers who come in because we’re studying something or learning something that they’ve excelled in.
What would angels look like in their spiritual form?
Well, angels in their spiritual form are pretty much just a glowing light. Radiant. One of my angels took the physical form of a very dark-skinned black man. He saved my life.
Tell me more about your religious background. How did it help you tune into spirit guides?
In my Catholic upbringing, we were raised with angels and saints. My family believed that the spirit body lived on and went to heaven, so we also were very connected to extended family and ancestors. I believed angels existed and we would set a place at the table for the guides and the angels. Now, I'm what I call an "expanded Catholic" (laughter). I am definitely a very strong lover and follower of Christ as my master-teacher guide. I definitely celebrate the basic tenets of the faith, but I am not your traditional Catholic.
How is contacting spirit guides different from contacting God or Christ through prayer?
I don’t think there’s a difference. In fact, you ask God for help. They’re his helpers.
Why do you think more people aren’t in touch with angels and spirit guides?
Because we’ve become such a left-brain, ego-based, egocentric culture, we’ve lost touch with the mystical and we’ve become disengaged from our own spirit, so that it’s hard to embrace the spirit world. I think that’s the biggest reason people are disconnected.
You mention some of your personal spirit guides are called “The Pleiadian Sisters." How would people find out the names of their angels and spirit guides?
Well, one of the ways they can do that is automatic writing. They can write to their guides and take whatever pops in their mind as the answer. A rose is a rose is a rose. You know, your guides will give you their names but the ego mind often rejects it. It’s like, “Oh, it can’t be that. I’m making it up.” When, in fact, you’re not. Believe it or not, it comes.
What are three practical steps that people can follow to raise their frequency?
Step One, do become sensitive to your spirit. Become interested in the spirit of others, including the spirit of your animals and trees. Just begin to notice the subtle essence within every person. Step Two, be sober. We are food-drunk, money-drunk, drunk-drunk, drug-drunk, prescription drug-drunk, television-drunk, and all of that desensitizes our awareness. Step Three, be grateful. How to Raise Your Frequency Level
Begin to notice what is, instead of what is not. Start noticing what’s good in your life, what’s beautiful in your world because the spirit world is beautiful.
Is there a way to distinguish spirit guides from negative entities?
The only way you can positively know you’re working with guides is to look through the heart. The minute you start to analyze and intellectualize, you disconnect. Here’s an example. I just came back from an eight-day workshop in Kauai. It’s the biggest workshop I teach all year. The weather was threatening to devastate the workshop. We all asked the guides, the water spirits, to hold off the rain while we were teaching. Every day severe thunderstorms were predicted, but they didn’t occur until the last day. Then, all hell broke loose. I mean, it rained so much that two-thirds of the island was flooded, but it didn’t start until we were saying goodbye to people who came to our workshop. So, to me, I know for sure, those guides helped us. They kept the rain at bay. We were just on our knees thanking them because we made it.
What are three practical steps to banish negative entities?
Negative entities tend to attach to people when they are, first, not sober because it makes them easy to infiltrate. Second, when they are goalless. It’s like when you’re wandering around a city street at night and you have no goals; you’re more prone to attract muggers. It’s the same in the spirit world. As you open up to spirit guides, have goals. I don’t want to just contact anything; I only want good guides that can help me with XYZ. And the third thing is to pray. Pray, or if you’re uncomfortable with that word, meditate and surround yourself with a positive white light. Appreciate the beauty of you, and you will have no problem with negative entities.
How to Banish Negative Entities
Negative entities prey on our own self-doubt and our own self-rejection. Attracting a negative entity is like catching the flu, and you just start praying and you take your psychic vitamins, meditation, and prayer. If you feel like you have a negative vibration, just say, I banish you to the light. You don’t belong here. You can’t stay here. Go to the light. And that’s about all you need to do.
What if someone goes through life without connecting with his spirit guides? Will the spirit guide try to contact him?
No, the thing about spirit guides is that you have to invite them in; they cannot intrude upon you.
What would you say to those who are skeptical of the existence of angels and spirit guides?
Personally, it’s not interesting to me to try to convince anybody. I’m much more excited to help the people who are receptive and want to start having the magical, positive experience of inviting their guides in to help them. A closed mind is like an unplugged TV. I can talk to you until the cows come home, but if your TV’s unplugged, you’re not going to see the show.
What prayer do you say to call on your angel and spirit guides?
Before I even open my eyes and take a breath, I start the day with: Sonia's Prayer to Spirit Guides
Divine spirit, use me this day, move me in the highest direction and open my heart for all the support to achieve my highest good and to be of service to this world. That’s my morning prayer; it really puts me in a position to be receptive to help.
Author Unknown, Source Unknown
A young man had been to Wednesday night Bible Study. The Pastor had shared about listening to God and obeying the Lord's voice. The young man couldn't help but wonder, "Does God still speak to people?"
After service he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and they discussed the message. Several different ones talked about how God had led them in different ways. It was about ten o'clock when the young man started driving home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, "God.. If you will listen. I will do my best to obey."
As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought to stop and buy a gallon of milk.He shook his head an said out loud, "God is that you?" He didn't get a reply an started on toward home. But again the thought to stop and buy a gallon of milk. The young man though about Samuel and how he didn't recognize the voice of God, and how little Samuel ran to Eli. "Okay, God, in case that is you, I will buy the milk." It didn't seem like too hard a test of obedience. He could always use the milk. He stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started of toward home. As he passed Seventh Street, he again felt the urge, "Turn down that street." This is crazy he thought and drove on past the intersection. Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh. Half jokingly, he said out loud, "Okay, God, I will". He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop. He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in a semicommercial area of town. It wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst of neighborhoods either.
The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people of the houses were already in bed. Again, he sensed something, "Go and give the milk to the people in the house across the street." The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were already asleep. He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat. "Lord, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid." Again, he felt like he should go and give the milk.
Finally, he opened the door, "Okay God, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to be obedient. I guess that will count for something but if they don't answer right away, I am out of here." He walked across the street and rant the bell. He could hear so noise inside. A man's voice yelled out, "Who is it? What do you want?"
Then the door opened before the young man could get away. The man was standing there in his jeans and T-shirt. He looked like he just got out of bed. He had a strange look on his face and he didn't seem too happy to have some stranger standing on his doorstep.
"What is it?" The young man thrust out the gallon of milk, "Here, I brought this to you." The man took the milk and rushed down a hallway speaking loudly in Spanish. Then from done the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen. The man was following her holding a baby. The baby was crying.
The man had tears streaming down his face. The man began speaking and half crying, "We were just praying. We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn't have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and asking God to show me. How to get some milk." His wife in the kitchen yelled out, "I ask him to send an Angel with some. Are you an Angel?"
The young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put it in the man's hand. He turned and walked back toward his car and the tears were streaming down his face. He knew that God still answers prayers.
A young man had been to Wednesday night Bible Study. The Pastor had shared about listening to God and obeying the Lord's voice. The young man couldn't help but wonder, "Does God still speak to people?"
After service he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and they discussed the message. Several different ones talked about how God had led them in different ways. It was about ten o'clock when the young man started driving home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, "God.. If you will listen. I will do my best to obey."
As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought to stop and buy a gallon of milk.He shook his head an said out loud, "God is that you?" He didn't get a reply an started on toward home. But again the thought to stop and buy a gallon of milk. The young man though about Samuel and how he didn't recognize the voice of God, and how little Samuel ran to Eli. "Okay, God, in case that is you, I will buy the milk." It didn't seem like too hard a test of obedience. He could always use the milk. He stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started of toward home. As he passed Seventh Street, he again felt the urge, "Turn down that street." This is crazy he thought and drove on past the intersection. Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh. Half jokingly, he said out loud, "Okay, God, I will". He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop. He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in a semicommercial area of town. It wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst of neighborhoods either.
The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people of the houses were already in bed. Again, he sensed something, "Go and give the milk to the people in the house across the street." The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were already asleep. He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat. "Lord, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid." Again, he felt like he should go and give the milk.
Finally, he opened the door, "Okay God, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to be obedient. I guess that will count for something but if they don't answer right away, I am out of here." He walked across the street and rant the bell. He could hear so noise inside. A man's voice yelled out, "Who is it? What do you want?"
Then the door opened before the young man could get away. The man was standing there in his jeans and T-shirt. He looked like he just got out of bed. He had a strange look on his face and he didn't seem too happy to have some stranger standing on his doorstep.
"What is it?" The young man thrust out the gallon of milk, "Here, I brought this to you." The man took the milk and rushed down a hallway speaking loudly in Spanish. Then from done the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen. The man was following her holding a baby. The baby was crying.
The man had tears streaming down his face. The man began speaking and half crying, "We were just praying. We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn't have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and asking God to show me. How to get some milk." His wife in the kitchen yelled out, "I ask him to send an Angel with some. Are you an Angel?"
The young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put it in the man's hand. He turned and walked back toward his car and the tears were streaming down his face. He knew that God still answers prayers.
Late in the Midnight Hour
When I ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere, I lost all hope--until I looked out the rear window.
By Letia Nichols
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/189/stor ... mc_id=NL24
I believe in miracles.
I was driving with my niece from California to Cleveland on a trip I had made several times before. I knew what to expect on the long drive, including where the gas stations and rest stops were located. Driving for hours, I began growing so tired that I asked my niece to drive. The gasoline tank was getting low, and I warned her to fill up the tank prior to driving a certain distance in Utah. Then I took a nap. Unfortunately, she forgot to fill up, and we started to run out of gas. When she woke me up, it was midnight, and we were alone in our truck, miles from a town and out of gas. Both of us immediately began to pray and cry out to God for help. As the truck began to coast, I felt God prompting me to look out of the rear window. I looked as God instructed, and what I saw was mind-blowing, even until this day.
What I saw was this: There were two towering angels riding on the back of our truck. They were gold in color and had motionless wings. With their arms folded, they radiated authority, power, and might. At the exact moment I saw the angels, a song by Fred Hammond began playing on the radio, with the verse, "Late in the midnight hour, God's going to turn it around, it's going to work in your favor." As the verse repeated, I looked at the clock on the truck’s dashboard. It was exactly 12:16 A.M. I told my niece what I had seen, and we began to praise God as we rolled into a gas station that just happened to be open late at night. We glorified God right there, thanking him for sending two golden angels.
Even now, I know God is real, and I know He hears and answers prayers. I believe I am a living witness and testimony to this truth.
When I ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere, I lost all hope--until I looked out the rear window.
By Letia Nichols
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/189/stor ... mc_id=NL24
I believe in miracles.
I was driving with my niece from California to Cleveland on a trip I had made several times before. I knew what to expect on the long drive, including where the gas stations and rest stops were located. Driving for hours, I began growing so tired that I asked my niece to drive. The gasoline tank was getting low, and I warned her to fill up the tank prior to driving a certain distance in Utah. Then I took a nap. Unfortunately, she forgot to fill up, and we started to run out of gas. When she woke me up, it was midnight, and we were alone in our truck, miles from a town and out of gas. Both of us immediately began to pray and cry out to God for help. As the truck began to coast, I felt God prompting me to look out of the rear window. I looked as God instructed, and what I saw was mind-blowing, even until this day.
What I saw was this: There were two towering angels riding on the back of our truck. They were gold in color and had motionless wings. With their arms folded, they radiated authority, power, and might. At the exact moment I saw the angels, a song by Fred Hammond began playing on the radio, with the verse, "Late in the midnight hour, God's going to turn it around, it's going to work in your favor." As the verse repeated, I looked at the clock on the truck’s dashboard. It was exactly 12:16 A.M. I told my niece what I had seen, and we began to praise God as we rolled into a gas station that just happened to be open late at night. We glorified God right there, thanking him for sending two golden angels.
Even now, I know God is real, and I know He hears and answers prayers. I believe I am a living witness and testimony to this truth.
Tear to the Eye, A
by: Author Unknown,
Barbara was driving her six-year-old son, Benjamin, to his piano lesson.
They were late, and Barbara was beginning to think she should have cancelled it. There was always so much to do, and Barbara, a night-duty nurse at the local hospital, had recently worked extra shifts.
She was tired. The sleet storm and icy roads added to her tension. Maybe she should turn the car around.
"Mom!" Ben cried. "Look!" Just ahead, a car had lost control on a patch of ice. As Barbara tapped the brakes, the other car spun wildly rolled over, then crashed sideways into a telephone pole.
Barbara pulled over, skidded to a stop and threw open her door. Thank goodness she was a nurse - she might be able to help these unfortunate passengers.
Then she paused. What about Ben? She couldn't take him with her. Little boys shouldn't see scenes like the one she anticipated. But was it safe to leave him alone? What if their car were hit from behind?
For a brief moment Barbara considered going on her way. Someone else was sure to come along. No! "Ben, honey, promise me you'll stay in the car!"
"I will, Mommy," he said as she ran, slipping and sliding toward the crash site. It was worse than she'd feared. Two girls of high school age are in the car. One, the blonde on the passenger side, was dead, killed on impact.
The driver, however was still breathing. She was unconscious and pinned in the wreckage. Barbara quickly applied pressure to the wound in the teenager's head while her practiced eye catalogued the other injuries. A broken leg, maybe two, along with probable internal bleeding. But if help came soon, the girl would live.
A trucker had pulled up and was calling for help on his cellular phone. Soon Barbara heard the ambulance sirens. A few moments later she surrendered her lonely post to rescue workers.
"Good job," one said as he examined the driver's wounds. "You probably saved her life, ma'am." Perhaps.
But as Barbara walked back to her car a feeling of sadness overwhelmed her, especially for the family of the girl who had died. Their lives would never be the same. Oh God, why do such things have to happen?
Slowly Barbara opened her car door. What should she tell Benjamin? He was staring at the crash site, his blue eyes huge. "Mom," he whispered, "did you see it?"
"See what, Honey?" she asked.
"The angel, Mom! He came down from the sky while you were running to the car. And he opened the door, and he took that girl out."
Barbara's eyes filled with tears. "Which door, Ben?"
"The passenger side. He took the girl's hand, and they floated up to Heaven together"
"What about the driver?"
Ben shrugged. "I didn't see anyone else."
Later, Barbara was able to meet the families of the victims. They expressed their gratitude for the help she had provided. Barbara was able to give them something more - Ben's vision.
There was no way he could have known what happened to either of the passengers. Nor could the passenger door have been opened; Barbara had seen its tangle of immovable steel herself. Yet Ben's account brought consolation to a grieving family. Their daughter was safe in Heaven. And they would see her again.
by: Author Unknown,
Barbara was driving her six-year-old son, Benjamin, to his piano lesson.
They were late, and Barbara was beginning to think she should have cancelled it. There was always so much to do, and Barbara, a night-duty nurse at the local hospital, had recently worked extra shifts.
She was tired. The sleet storm and icy roads added to her tension. Maybe she should turn the car around.
"Mom!" Ben cried. "Look!" Just ahead, a car had lost control on a patch of ice. As Barbara tapped the brakes, the other car spun wildly rolled over, then crashed sideways into a telephone pole.
Barbara pulled over, skidded to a stop and threw open her door. Thank goodness she was a nurse - she might be able to help these unfortunate passengers.
Then she paused. What about Ben? She couldn't take him with her. Little boys shouldn't see scenes like the one she anticipated. But was it safe to leave him alone? What if their car were hit from behind?
For a brief moment Barbara considered going on her way. Someone else was sure to come along. No! "Ben, honey, promise me you'll stay in the car!"
"I will, Mommy," he said as she ran, slipping and sliding toward the crash site. It was worse than she'd feared. Two girls of high school age are in the car. One, the blonde on the passenger side, was dead, killed on impact.
The driver, however was still breathing. She was unconscious and pinned in the wreckage. Barbara quickly applied pressure to the wound in the teenager's head while her practiced eye catalogued the other injuries. A broken leg, maybe two, along with probable internal bleeding. But if help came soon, the girl would live.
A trucker had pulled up and was calling for help on his cellular phone. Soon Barbara heard the ambulance sirens. A few moments later she surrendered her lonely post to rescue workers.
"Good job," one said as he examined the driver's wounds. "You probably saved her life, ma'am." Perhaps.
But as Barbara walked back to her car a feeling of sadness overwhelmed her, especially for the family of the girl who had died. Their lives would never be the same. Oh God, why do such things have to happen?
Slowly Barbara opened her car door. What should she tell Benjamin? He was staring at the crash site, his blue eyes huge. "Mom," he whispered, "did you see it?"
"See what, Honey?" she asked.
"The angel, Mom! He came down from the sky while you were running to the car. And he opened the door, and he took that girl out."
Barbara's eyes filled with tears. "Which door, Ben?"
"The passenger side. He took the girl's hand, and they floated up to Heaven together"
"What about the driver?"
Ben shrugged. "I didn't see anyone else."
Later, Barbara was able to meet the families of the victims. They expressed their gratitude for the help she had provided. Barbara was able to give them something more - Ben's vision.
There was no way he could have known what happened to either of the passengers. Nor could the passenger door have been opened; Barbara had seen its tangle of immovable steel herself. Yet Ben's account brought consolation to a grieving family. Their daughter was safe in Heaven. And they would see her again.
Thanks Betty for sharing this interesting vision. The following is an excerpt from one of the talks of Paramahansa Yogananda published in the SRF Magazine which resonates the notion that the departed souls go to heavens after death...Betty wrote:Slowly Barbara opened her car door. What should she tell Benjamin? He was staring at the crash site, his blue eyes huge. "Mom," he whispered, "did you see it?"
"See what, Honey?" she asked.
"The angel, Mom! He came down from the sky while you were running to the car. And he opened the door, and he took that girl out."
Barbara's eyes filled with tears. "Which door, Ben?"
"The passenger side. He took the girl's hand, and they floated up to Heaven together"
"What about the driver?"
Ben shrugged. "I didn't see anyone else."
"Each one of you, no matter how restless you are, if you follow the laws of spiritual realization and meditate in the way I tell you, you will get realization much quicker than you can ever imagine. "Then life is sweet, and death a dream; then health is sweet, and sickness a dream; when Thy song flows through me." That is the state you want to enjoy. Then you know you are not destroyed with the death of the body. Suppose you are dreaming that you are as strong as a Sandow, lifting a motorcar; and suddenly your heart collapses, and you die.* When you awaken from that nightmare, you realize it was but a dream and that you are not dead. You know you are alive. That is what will happen to you when you are awake in God. You will realize that all of life's experiences are but a dream, and you are free of that dream. That is what God reveals to you.
God showed me this truth during the Civil War in Spain, when bombs were falling on innocent people and helpless children. I prayed, "Lord, why does this happen?" He replied, "Son, I cannot prevent the misuse of man's free will, which causes disasters." But then He showed me what freedom these innocent ones received through death—freedom from starvation and fear. In this vision God said, "See how they are all jumping out of their bullet- and bomb-shattered bodies and entering My everlasting bosom. There is no suffering for them anymore." Then I said, "Lord, glory be Thy name that I can understand this truth."
*Eugene Sandow (1867-1925), famous for his physique and physical prowess, died at fifty-eight when a blood vessel in his brain burst as a result of his having raised a car singlehanded.
Angels of Color
Why didn't the angels send comfort to the American slaves?
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/84/story ... mc_id=NL24
Brad and Sherry Steiger, former Beliefnet columnists, are the authors of various books on angels.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q: My grandfather was born a slave in America, and I spent lots of my childhood listening to his stories. Some were funny, but many were filled with pain. My question is, if there are angels or any kind of heavenly being, why didn’t they give some comfort to those people. Are there any angels of color in heaven? Does racism exist even in the hereafter?
A: None of us are wise enough to provide satisfactory answers to such historical injustices as slavery, the extermination of aboriginal tribes, the merciless deaths of millions during the Holocaust, etc. In times of horrible persecutions, however, there emerge inspirational accounts of the appearance, counsel, and succor of angelic or spiritual beings. Stories of prayers answered, lives spared under miraculous circumstances, men and women inspired to accomplish heroic acts fill the folklore, legends, and scriptures of all cultures and religions. For instance, from slavery there emerged spirituals and gospel music that still satisfy the soul today. Individuals in the most unfortunate of circumstances were inspired to elevate their hearts and spirits by a force far greater than the taskmasters who enslaved them. None of us can possibly excuse the institution of slavery, but we can admire the indomitable spirit of the enslaved that soared high above the evil imposed upon them and achieved the ultimate freedom of their souls.
As we stated in a recent column, we doubt if any human has ever seen what a heavenly being truly looks like in that being's dimension of reality. Further, we very much doubt that angels have a complexion of any shade or hue as we comprehend "color" in earthly terms. Racism would be nonexistent in the heavenly realms because its citizens are spiritual, rather than physical, beings. In other words, they have no material bodies to admire or to fault, to praise or to criticize, to glorify or condemn. And so it will be when we enter the world beyond death. Regardless of our ethnic heritage in our previous physical forms, we shall be beings of spirit, far removed from any prejudices, bigotry, or racism that may have afflicted us on the material plane--either as perpetrator or victim.
Here on Earth, in our opinion, angelic or spirit beings express themselves to us humans in a form and manner that would be recognizable and acceptable to our level of comprehension; therefore, they may appear in any complexion, height, gender, or ethnic character they choose. For Christians, Muslims, and Jews, these spiritual benefactors manifest as angels; for Mahayana Buddhists, bodhisattvas; for Shintoists, the kami; for the Hindus, the devas and devis. Chinese religion has countless personal spirits, such as the Spirit of the Hearth, and traditional Native American religions and African religions personify the spirits of nature, together with heavenly beings and their more prominent ancestors, as powerful benevolent entities.
Although we believe that angels and spirit beings are totally nondenominational, nonracial, noncultural entities, we were pleased when the publishers of our "Angels Around the World" portrayed three lovely angels with Asian, African, and Caucasian features to emphasize our opinion that these beneficent beings may appear in any manner revelatory and acceptable to the individual. We heard from many African American and Asian American readers who expressed their own pleasure at seeing angels appear in a manner other than the blond, blue-eyed stereotype so often depicted in religious art.
Why didn't the angels send comfort to the American slaves?
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/84/story ... mc_id=NL24
Brad and Sherry Steiger, former Beliefnet columnists, are the authors of various books on angels.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q: My grandfather was born a slave in America, and I spent lots of my childhood listening to his stories. Some were funny, but many were filled with pain. My question is, if there are angels or any kind of heavenly being, why didn’t they give some comfort to those people. Are there any angels of color in heaven? Does racism exist even in the hereafter?
A: None of us are wise enough to provide satisfactory answers to such historical injustices as slavery, the extermination of aboriginal tribes, the merciless deaths of millions during the Holocaust, etc. In times of horrible persecutions, however, there emerge inspirational accounts of the appearance, counsel, and succor of angelic or spiritual beings. Stories of prayers answered, lives spared under miraculous circumstances, men and women inspired to accomplish heroic acts fill the folklore, legends, and scriptures of all cultures and religions. For instance, from slavery there emerged spirituals and gospel music that still satisfy the soul today. Individuals in the most unfortunate of circumstances were inspired to elevate their hearts and spirits by a force far greater than the taskmasters who enslaved them. None of us can possibly excuse the institution of slavery, but we can admire the indomitable spirit of the enslaved that soared high above the evil imposed upon them and achieved the ultimate freedom of their souls.
As we stated in a recent column, we doubt if any human has ever seen what a heavenly being truly looks like in that being's dimension of reality. Further, we very much doubt that angels have a complexion of any shade or hue as we comprehend "color" in earthly terms. Racism would be nonexistent in the heavenly realms because its citizens are spiritual, rather than physical, beings. In other words, they have no material bodies to admire or to fault, to praise or to criticize, to glorify or condemn. And so it will be when we enter the world beyond death. Regardless of our ethnic heritage in our previous physical forms, we shall be beings of spirit, far removed from any prejudices, bigotry, or racism that may have afflicted us on the material plane--either as perpetrator or victim.
Here on Earth, in our opinion, angelic or spirit beings express themselves to us humans in a form and manner that would be recognizable and acceptable to our level of comprehension; therefore, they may appear in any complexion, height, gender, or ethnic character they choose. For Christians, Muslims, and Jews, these spiritual benefactors manifest as angels; for Mahayana Buddhists, bodhisattvas; for Shintoists, the kami; for the Hindus, the devas and devis. Chinese religion has countless personal spirits, such as the Spirit of the Hearth, and traditional Native American religions and African religions personify the spirits of nature, together with heavenly beings and their more prominent ancestors, as powerful benevolent entities.
Although we believe that angels and spirit beings are totally nondenominational, nonracial, noncultural entities, we were pleased when the publishers of our "Angels Around the World" portrayed three lovely angels with Asian, African, and Caucasian features to emphasize our opinion that these beneficent beings may appear in any manner revelatory and acceptable to the individual. We heard from many African American and Asian American readers who expressed their own pleasure at seeing angels appear in a manner other than the blond, blue-eyed stereotype so often depicted in religious art.
Special Guardian Angel
by: Author Unknown
On July 22nd I was in route to Washington, DC for a business trip. It was all so very ordinary, until we landed in Denver for a plane change. As I collected my belongings from the overhead bin, an announcement was made for Mr. Lloyd Glenn to see the United Customer Service Representative immediately. I thought nothing of it until I reached the door to leave the plane and I heard a gentleman asking every male if he was Mr. Glenn. At this point I knew something was wrong and my heart sunk.
When I got off the plane a solemn-faced young man came toward me and said, "Mr. Glenn, there is an emergency at your home. I do not know what the emergency is, or who is involved, but I will take you to the phone so you can call the hospital."
My heart was now pounding, but the will to be calm took over. Woodenly, I followed this stranger to the distant telephone where I called the number he gave me for the Mission Hospital. My call was put through to the trauma center where I learned that my three-year-old son had been trapped underneath the automatic garage door for several minutes, and that when my wife had found him he was dead.
CPR had been performed by a neighbor, who is a doctor, and the paramedics had continued the treatment as Brian was transported to the hospital. By the time of my call, Brian was revived and they believed he would live, but they did not know how much damage had been done to his brain, nor to his heart. They explained that the door had completely closed on his little sternum right over his heart. He had been severely crushed. After speaking with the medical staff, my wife sounded worried but not hysterical, and I took comfort in her calmness.
The return flight seemed to last forever, but finally I arrived at the hospital six hours after the garage door had come down. When I walked into the intensive care unit, nothing could have prepared me to see my little son laying so still on a great big bed with tubes and monitors everywhere.
He was on a respirator. I glanced at my wife who stood and tried to give me a reassuring smile. It all seemed like a terrible dream. I was filled-in with the details and given a guarded prognosis. Brian was going to live, and the preliminary tests indicated that his heart was OK, two miracles in and of themselves. But only time would tell if his brain received any damage.
Throughout the seemingly endless hours, my wife was calm. She felt that Brian would eventually be all right. I hung on to her words and faith like a lifeline. All that night and the next day Brian remained unconscious. It seemed like forever since I had left for my business trip the day before.
Finally at two o'clock that afternoon, our son regained consciousness and sat up uttering the most beautiful words I have ever heard spoken. He said, "Daddy hold me" and he reached for me with his little arms. [TEAR BREAK... smile]
By the next day he was pronounced as having no neurological or physical deficits, and the story of his miraculous survival spread throughout the hospital. You cannot imagine, we took Brian home, we felt a unique reverence for the life and love of our Heavenly Father that comes to those who brush death so closely.
In the days that followed there was a special spirit about our home. Our two older children were much closer to their little brother. My wife and I were much closer to each other, and all of us were very close as a whole family. Life took on a less stressful pace. Perspective seemed to be more focused, and balance much easier to gain and maintain. We felt deeply blessed. Our gratitude was truly profound.
The story is not over (smile)!
Almost a month later to the day of the accident, Brian awoke from his afternoon nap and said, "Sit down Mommy. I have something to tell you."
At this time in his life, Brian usually spoke in small phrases, so to say a large sentence surprised my wife. She sat down with him on his bed, and he began his sacred and remarkable story.
"Do you remember when I got stuck under the garage door? Well, it was so heavy and it hurt really bad. I called to you, but you couldn't hear me. I started to cry, but then it hurt too bad. And then the 'birdies' came."
"The birdies?" my wife asked puzzled.
"Yes," he replied.
"The birdies made a whooshing sound and flew into the garage. They took care of me."
"They did?"
"Yes," he said "one of the birdies came and got you. She came to tell you I got stuck under the door."
A sweet reverent feeling filled the room. The spirit was so strong and yet lighter than air. My wife realized that a three-year-old had no concept of death and spirits, so he was referring to the beings who came to him from beyond as "birdies" because they were up in the air like birds that fly.
"What did the birdies look like?" she asked.
Brian answered, "They were so beautiful. They were dressed in white, all white. Some of them had green and white. But some of them had on just white."
"Did they say anything?"
"Yes," he answered. "They told me the baby would be all right."
"The baby?" my wife asked confused.
Brian answered. "The baby laying on the garage floor." He went on, "You came out and opened the garage door and ran to the baby. You told the baby to stay and not leave."
My wife nearly collapsed upon hearing this, for she had indeed gone and knelt beside Brian's body and seeing his crushed chest whispered, "Don't leave us Brian, please stay if you can." As she listened to Brian telling her the words she had spoken, she realized that the spirit had left His body and was looking down from above on this little lifeless form.
"Then what happened?" she asked.
"We went on a trip." he said, "Far, far away."
He grew agitated trying to say the things he didn't seem to have the words for. My wife tried to calm and comfort him, and let him know it would be o okay. He struggled, wanting to tell something that obviously was very important to him, but finding the words was difficult.
"We flew so fast up in the air. They're so pretty Mommy," he added. "And there are lots and lots of birdies."
My wife was stunned. Into her mind the sweet comforting spirit enveloped her more soundly, but with urgency she had never before known. Brian went on to tell her that the "birdies" had told him that he had to come back and tell everyone about the "birdies." He said they brought him back to the house and that a big fire truck, and an ambulance were there. A man was bringing the baby out on a white bed and he tried to tell the man that the baby would be okay, but the man couldn't hear him. He said the birdies told him he had to go with the ambulance, but they would be near him.
He said they were so pretty and so peaceful, and he didn't want to come back. Then the bright light came. He said that the light was so bright and so warm, and he loved the bright light so much. Someone was in the bright light and put their arms around him and told him, "I love you but you have to go back."
The story went on for an hour. He taught us that "birdies" were always with us, but we don't see them because we look with our eyes and we don't hear them because we listen with our ears. But they are always there, you can only see them in here (he put his hand over his heart). They whisper the things to help us to do what is right because they love us so much.
Brian continued, stating, "I have a plan, Mommy. You have a plan. Daddy has a plan. Everyone has a plan. We must all live our plan and keep our promises. The birdies help us to do that cause they love us so much."
In the weeks that followed, he often came to us and told all, or part of it, again and again. Always the story remained the same. The details were never changed or out of order. A few times he added further bits of information and clarified the message he had already delivered. It never ceased to amaze us how he could tell such detail and speak beyond his ability when he talked about his birdies.
Everywhere he went, he told strangers about the "birdies." Surprisingly, no one ever looked at him strangely when he did this. Rather, they always got a softened look on their face and smiled. Needless to say, we have not been the same ever since that day, and I pray we never will be.
You have just been sent an Angel to watch over you. Some people come into our lives and quickly go... Some people become friends and stay a while...leaving beautiful footprints on our hearts... and we are never quite the same because we have made a good friend!!
Yesterday is history. Tomorrow a mystery. Today is a gift. That's why it's called the present! Live and savor every moment... this is not a dress rehearsal!
by: Author Unknown
On July 22nd I was in route to Washington, DC for a business trip. It was all so very ordinary, until we landed in Denver for a plane change. As I collected my belongings from the overhead bin, an announcement was made for Mr. Lloyd Glenn to see the United Customer Service Representative immediately. I thought nothing of it until I reached the door to leave the plane and I heard a gentleman asking every male if he was Mr. Glenn. At this point I knew something was wrong and my heart sunk.
When I got off the plane a solemn-faced young man came toward me and said, "Mr. Glenn, there is an emergency at your home. I do not know what the emergency is, or who is involved, but I will take you to the phone so you can call the hospital."
My heart was now pounding, but the will to be calm took over. Woodenly, I followed this stranger to the distant telephone where I called the number he gave me for the Mission Hospital. My call was put through to the trauma center where I learned that my three-year-old son had been trapped underneath the automatic garage door for several minutes, and that when my wife had found him he was dead.
CPR had been performed by a neighbor, who is a doctor, and the paramedics had continued the treatment as Brian was transported to the hospital. By the time of my call, Brian was revived and they believed he would live, but they did not know how much damage had been done to his brain, nor to his heart. They explained that the door had completely closed on his little sternum right over his heart. He had been severely crushed. After speaking with the medical staff, my wife sounded worried but not hysterical, and I took comfort in her calmness.
The return flight seemed to last forever, but finally I arrived at the hospital six hours after the garage door had come down. When I walked into the intensive care unit, nothing could have prepared me to see my little son laying so still on a great big bed with tubes and monitors everywhere.
He was on a respirator. I glanced at my wife who stood and tried to give me a reassuring smile. It all seemed like a terrible dream. I was filled-in with the details and given a guarded prognosis. Brian was going to live, and the preliminary tests indicated that his heart was OK, two miracles in and of themselves. But only time would tell if his brain received any damage.
Throughout the seemingly endless hours, my wife was calm. She felt that Brian would eventually be all right. I hung on to her words and faith like a lifeline. All that night and the next day Brian remained unconscious. It seemed like forever since I had left for my business trip the day before.
Finally at two o'clock that afternoon, our son regained consciousness and sat up uttering the most beautiful words I have ever heard spoken. He said, "Daddy hold me" and he reached for me with his little arms. [TEAR BREAK... smile]
By the next day he was pronounced as having no neurological or physical deficits, and the story of his miraculous survival spread throughout the hospital. You cannot imagine, we took Brian home, we felt a unique reverence for the life and love of our Heavenly Father that comes to those who brush death so closely.
In the days that followed there was a special spirit about our home. Our two older children were much closer to their little brother. My wife and I were much closer to each other, and all of us were very close as a whole family. Life took on a less stressful pace. Perspective seemed to be more focused, and balance much easier to gain and maintain. We felt deeply blessed. Our gratitude was truly profound.
The story is not over (smile)!
Almost a month later to the day of the accident, Brian awoke from his afternoon nap and said, "Sit down Mommy. I have something to tell you."
At this time in his life, Brian usually spoke in small phrases, so to say a large sentence surprised my wife. She sat down with him on his bed, and he began his sacred and remarkable story.
"Do you remember when I got stuck under the garage door? Well, it was so heavy and it hurt really bad. I called to you, but you couldn't hear me. I started to cry, but then it hurt too bad. And then the 'birdies' came."
"The birdies?" my wife asked puzzled.
"Yes," he replied.
"The birdies made a whooshing sound and flew into the garage. They took care of me."
"They did?"
"Yes," he said "one of the birdies came and got you. She came to tell you I got stuck under the door."
A sweet reverent feeling filled the room. The spirit was so strong and yet lighter than air. My wife realized that a three-year-old had no concept of death and spirits, so he was referring to the beings who came to him from beyond as "birdies" because they were up in the air like birds that fly.
"What did the birdies look like?" she asked.
Brian answered, "They were so beautiful. They were dressed in white, all white. Some of them had green and white. But some of them had on just white."
"Did they say anything?"
"Yes," he answered. "They told me the baby would be all right."
"The baby?" my wife asked confused.
Brian answered. "The baby laying on the garage floor." He went on, "You came out and opened the garage door and ran to the baby. You told the baby to stay and not leave."
My wife nearly collapsed upon hearing this, for she had indeed gone and knelt beside Brian's body and seeing his crushed chest whispered, "Don't leave us Brian, please stay if you can." As she listened to Brian telling her the words she had spoken, she realized that the spirit had left His body and was looking down from above on this little lifeless form.
"Then what happened?" she asked.
"We went on a trip." he said, "Far, far away."
He grew agitated trying to say the things he didn't seem to have the words for. My wife tried to calm and comfort him, and let him know it would be o okay. He struggled, wanting to tell something that obviously was very important to him, but finding the words was difficult.
"We flew so fast up in the air. They're so pretty Mommy," he added. "And there are lots and lots of birdies."
My wife was stunned. Into her mind the sweet comforting spirit enveloped her more soundly, but with urgency she had never before known. Brian went on to tell her that the "birdies" had told him that he had to come back and tell everyone about the "birdies." He said they brought him back to the house and that a big fire truck, and an ambulance were there. A man was bringing the baby out on a white bed and he tried to tell the man that the baby would be okay, but the man couldn't hear him. He said the birdies told him he had to go with the ambulance, but they would be near him.
He said they were so pretty and so peaceful, and he didn't want to come back. Then the bright light came. He said that the light was so bright and so warm, and he loved the bright light so much. Someone was in the bright light and put their arms around him and told him, "I love you but you have to go back."
The story went on for an hour. He taught us that "birdies" were always with us, but we don't see them because we look with our eyes and we don't hear them because we listen with our ears. But they are always there, you can only see them in here (he put his hand over his heart). They whisper the things to help us to do what is right because they love us so much.
Brian continued, stating, "I have a plan, Mommy. You have a plan. Daddy has a plan. Everyone has a plan. We must all live our plan and keep our promises. The birdies help us to do that cause they love us so much."
In the weeks that followed, he often came to us and told all, or part of it, again and again. Always the story remained the same. The details were never changed or out of order. A few times he added further bits of information and clarified the message he had already delivered. It never ceased to amaze us how he could tell such detail and speak beyond his ability when he talked about his birdies.
Everywhere he went, he told strangers about the "birdies." Surprisingly, no one ever looked at him strangely when he did this. Rather, they always got a softened look on their face and smiled. Needless to say, we have not been the same ever since that day, and I pray we never will be.
You have just been sent an Angel to watch over you. Some people come into our lives and quickly go... Some people become friends and stay a while...leaving beautiful footprints on our hearts... and we are never quite the same because we have made a good friend!!
Yesterday is history. Tomorrow a mystery. Today is a gift. That's why it's called the present! Live and savor every moment... this is not a dress rehearsal!
"Sometimes people see angels when they are near death. Other times, angels bring a sense of comfort to those who are left behind."
-Gary Kinnaman,
"Angels Dark and Light"
Four Angels Dressed in Black
A timely message is delivered from heaven.
By Marilynn Webber
Excerpted from "A Rustle of Angels" by Marilynn and William Webber, published by Zondervan Press, 1994.
From early childhood, Marilynn Carlson Webber had an interest in angels. She confides that she had always wanted to see an angel--if not in person, at least in a dream. That never happened until the summer of 1993. Marilynn relates her unexpected experience:
Four angels came to me in a dream, but they were not the glorious, shining angels I had always pictured in my mind's eye. I was startled to see that they were dressed in black. Their body language spoke volumes. They were in mourning. Summoning up my courage, I asked, "Why are you in mourning?"
One angel replied, "Because you are dying. If something is not done soon, you will die."
Suddenly I was wide awake. I was frightened by the vividness of my dream. I was trembling because of the encounter. For the first time, I also felt pain--severe pain.
I woke my husband. "I need to tell you my dream," I insisted to my sleepy spouse. "It's so real. I know that God sent his angels with a message."
I described the black-robed angels in mourning and their message that I was dying unless something was done...soon.
"First thing in the morning," Bill told me, "we will find a doctor."
I had not seen a doctor for a few years. I had my excuses. My internist had retired. I had gone to two other doctors, but although they were comparatively young, both had stopped practicing medicine. The last physician warned me that I needed to be monitored for cancer and had recommended a specialist, but when I called for an appointment I was told that he was taking no new patients. I had meant to find another doctor but for two years had put it off.
The morning after my dream my husband urgently called the doctor that had been recommended. The receptionist told him the doctor was still taking no new patients. Bill asked to talk to the doctor himself but was transferred to his nurse. He told the nurse that his wife needed to see the doctor immediately. When she asked why it was so urgent, he told her of the dream.
"It's impossible for you to see Dr. King," the nurse replied, "but let me see if I can work you in to see one of his colleagues."
In a minute she came back on the line. "I have an appointment for your wife with Dr. Keeney," she said. "He is one of the best oncologists in the area."
With fear and trembling I kept my appointment with Dr. Keeney. As he took my medical history, he asked what had brought me to see him. I poured out my dream about four angels dressed in black and watched as he wrote it in my file. A biopsy was taken, then almost every known medical test--or at least it seemed to be that way to me. They found cancer and a tumor that needed to be removed. Dr. Keeney explained that pain was not a symptom of this type of cancer. Why, then, had I felt pain on the night of my dream? I believe that God knew that I was a reluctant patient, and to get my attention he needed not only to send his angels in a dream but also to underscore their message with pain.
As a part of the routine preoperative procedure I was seen by a resident. He began taking a complete medical history. I asked why it was necessary, inasmuch as I had answered the same questions for Dr. Keeney. He replied that Dr. Keeney was the best in his field, he could remember everything about all his patients, but that no one could read his handwriting. "All I can make out in your medical history is that four angels in mourning came to you in a dream and told you that you were dying if nothing was done."
Surgery was set for September 2 at the Loma Linda University Medical Center. The doctor told me I was considered to be a high-risk patient. I believe in prayer and began to ask my friends to pray for me. I asked to be put on every prayer chain I knew.
The day of surgery came. The doctor told my husband that he could expect me to be in intensive care for two days. Surgery took four hours, but after a few hours' stay in the recovery room, I was placed in a regular hospital room. Five days later I returned home. Prayers are answered!
The doctor explained they had caught the cancer in time and were able to remove it completely. I did not need chemotherapy or any follow-up treatments, but if the cancer had not been discovered it would have spread and been life-threatening.
I knew I would have put it off, as I had done for years, but God, in his mercy, sent four angels in mourning, dressed in black, to impress me with the urgency of seeing the doctor. I continue to praise God for his goodness and my health!
-Gary Kinnaman,
"Angels Dark and Light"
Four Angels Dressed in Black
A timely message is delivered from heaven.
By Marilynn Webber
Excerpted from "A Rustle of Angels" by Marilynn and William Webber, published by Zondervan Press, 1994.
From early childhood, Marilynn Carlson Webber had an interest in angels. She confides that she had always wanted to see an angel--if not in person, at least in a dream. That never happened until the summer of 1993. Marilynn relates her unexpected experience:
Four angels came to me in a dream, but they were not the glorious, shining angels I had always pictured in my mind's eye. I was startled to see that they were dressed in black. Their body language spoke volumes. They were in mourning. Summoning up my courage, I asked, "Why are you in mourning?"
One angel replied, "Because you are dying. If something is not done soon, you will die."
Suddenly I was wide awake. I was frightened by the vividness of my dream. I was trembling because of the encounter. For the first time, I also felt pain--severe pain.
I woke my husband. "I need to tell you my dream," I insisted to my sleepy spouse. "It's so real. I know that God sent his angels with a message."
I described the black-robed angels in mourning and their message that I was dying unless something was done...soon.
"First thing in the morning," Bill told me, "we will find a doctor."
I had not seen a doctor for a few years. I had my excuses. My internist had retired. I had gone to two other doctors, but although they were comparatively young, both had stopped practicing medicine. The last physician warned me that I needed to be monitored for cancer and had recommended a specialist, but when I called for an appointment I was told that he was taking no new patients. I had meant to find another doctor but for two years had put it off.
The morning after my dream my husband urgently called the doctor that had been recommended. The receptionist told him the doctor was still taking no new patients. Bill asked to talk to the doctor himself but was transferred to his nurse. He told the nurse that his wife needed to see the doctor immediately. When she asked why it was so urgent, he told her of the dream.
"It's impossible for you to see Dr. King," the nurse replied, "but let me see if I can work you in to see one of his colleagues."
In a minute she came back on the line. "I have an appointment for your wife with Dr. Keeney," she said. "He is one of the best oncologists in the area."
With fear and trembling I kept my appointment with Dr. Keeney. As he took my medical history, he asked what had brought me to see him. I poured out my dream about four angels dressed in black and watched as he wrote it in my file. A biopsy was taken, then almost every known medical test--or at least it seemed to be that way to me. They found cancer and a tumor that needed to be removed. Dr. Keeney explained that pain was not a symptom of this type of cancer. Why, then, had I felt pain on the night of my dream? I believe that God knew that I was a reluctant patient, and to get my attention he needed not only to send his angels in a dream but also to underscore their message with pain.
As a part of the routine preoperative procedure I was seen by a resident. He began taking a complete medical history. I asked why it was necessary, inasmuch as I had answered the same questions for Dr. Keeney. He replied that Dr. Keeney was the best in his field, he could remember everything about all his patients, but that no one could read his handwriting. "All I can make out in your medical history is that four angels in mourning came to you in a dream and told you that you were dying if nothing was done."
Surgery was set for September 2 at the Loma Linda University Medical Center. The doctor told me I was considered to be a high-risk patient. I believe in prayer and began to ask my friends to pray for me. I asked to be put on every prayer chain I knew.
The day of surgery came. The doctor told my husband that he could expect me to be in intensive care for two days. Surgery took four hours, but after a few hours' stay in the recovery room, I was placed in a regular hospital room. Five days later I returned home. Prayers are answered!
The doctor explained they had caught the cancer in time and were able to remove it completely. I did not need chemotherapy or any follow-up treatments, but if the cancer had not been discovered it would have spread and been life-threatening.
I knew I would have put it off, as I had done for years, but God, in his mercy, sent four angels in mourning, dressed in black, to impress me with the urgency of seeing the doctor. I continue to praise God for his goodness and my health!
God is forever imaginative, colorful, and glorious in what He designs. Some of the descriptions of angels, including the one of Lucifer, indicate that they are exotic to the human eye and mind. Apparently angels have a beauty and variety that surpass anything known to man.
-Billy Graham,
"Angels: God’s Secret Agents"
Sur Le Pont d'Avignon
How Saint Bénezet was inspired to build the Bridge of Avignon, over the Rhone River.
By Elizabeth Sherrill
Reprinted with permission from Angels On Earth.
Sur le Pont d’Avignon, l’on y danse, l’on y danse....It was the first French I learned, singing the merry little song as a child: On the Bridge of Avignon, everyone is dancing, everyone is dancing....
“It was my first French too,” said my husband, John, as we drove toward Avignon last spring. Funny how a song can impact a life: Loving the sound of the words, each of us had gone on to study French, meeting as students bound for the French-speaking University of Geneva. Our three children, our eight grandchildren, a lifetime of work together—all because of a song about a bridge. So of course, on reaching Avignon, the bridge was the first thing we wanted to see. We parked outside the crenellated walls of the medieval city and stood gazing out across one of France’s longest, largest rivers. Here the Rhone is swollen and unpredictable. Watermarks on the city walls attest that even today’s dams and dikes cannot prevent the Rhone from periodically rampaging out of its banks.
But where was the Bridge of Avignon?
Signs for a pont had pointed us this way, but they were for a different bridge, the Pont St–Bénezet. We walked on outside the towering walls, the river on our left. And then, rounding a corner of the rampart, we saw the ruins of an ancient bridge so beautiful that we stopped short, staring. Four graceful stone arches, gleaming white in the afternoon light, extended a little way into the river, ending abruptly in midair. We followed a group of tourists up a stairway and stepped out onto the worn stones of the roadway. A few yards along, above the bridge’s second pier, was a small Gothic chapel. Underneath it, down stairs cut into the pier, we found a still older Romanesque chapel dedicated to the mysterious Saint Bénezet.
We climbed back up from the lower chapel and walked the rest of the way out to where the bridge ended, high above the fast-flowing Rhone. Three little French girls skipped past us on the way, singing a familiar song. Sur le pont d’Avignon...This was our bridge, all right! But who was Saint Bénezet?
Over the next few days John and I wandered around Avignon asking about him and getting energetic answers in lively Provençal French. Everyone we asked agreed on two things: Bénezet was a young, illiterate, penniless shepherd, and it was an angel who guided him to build the bridge at Avignon.
From the lady at the tourist information desk we learned that the Romanesque chapel on the bridge had once held the saint’s tomb. He died very young, she told us, while the bridge was still being constructed, his body placed there when it was completed. Many years later, when floods swept most of the bridge away, his casket was moved within the town. Following her directions, we located Bénezet’s final resting place in St. Didier, an austere fourteenth-century church. From the wall, the statue of a young man with a stone at his feet looked down at us; beside him an angel held a bridge in outstretched hands.
More and more intrigued, we went to the library and looked up Bénezet’s story. Here is the account as it has come down across 800 years, a mix of fact and legend—where the legend says even more to John and me than the historical details, fascinating as they are....
Bénezet, researchers agree, was born around 1160 in Le Villard, a hamlet in the rugged Ardèche hills whose rivulets and streams eventually make their way east to the Rhone. Probably he was fatherless; parchments written not long after his death speak of him tending “his mother’s sheep.” As to his age when he came to Avignon, sources agree that he died seven years later; an examination of his remains in 1980 showed them to be those of a young man about 25 years old.
So Bénezet must have been 17 or 18 years old when his life took its sudden, stunning turn. One day as he watched his mother’s flock, he heard a voice call his name. Bénezet! Bénezet! The boy whirled around, but there was no one to be seen. Bénezet, I have chosen you to go to Avignon and build me a bridge across the Rhone. The shepherd lad stared in every direction, but all he could see were the peacefully grazing animals. Go to the great city of Avignon many days away? Nobody he knew had ever been there. And build...a bridge? All he had ever built was a sheep pen. He’d heard of the Rhone—everyone knew of the fearsome river, inhabited by a dragon, it was said, that time after time sent the river raging out of its banks to sweep away farms and villages. Pilgrims to the Holy Land might have to wait for weeks till the ferrymen could row them across. Everyone feared the deadly Rhone.
And yet the command came again. Build a bridge at Avignon. Bénezet protested that he was only a country bumpkin without money or connections. Why, he didn’t even know the way to Avignon! To each objection the answer was the same, I will send my angel with you.
That night Bénezet reported the message to his mother. At first she was as incredulous as he, but at last they agreed that if indeed this was the voice of the Lord then Bénezet must obey. Next morning he took three small coins—all the money he had in the world—wrapped some bread and cheese in his cloak, kissed his mother good-bye, and set out following the mountain streams downhill.
He had gone only a short distance when a pilgrim, a hood hiding his face, appeared on the path and fell into step with him. For three days the two traveled together, at each crossroad the silent stranger pointing the way.
When they reached the bank of the great river, the pilgrim vanished. Now Bénezet knew his fellow traveler was the angel the voice had promised. With new confidence he followed the river south. At last he came to a cluster of people, horses and donkeys gathered at a ferry crossing. On the other side of the broad river rose the walls and towers of Avignon.
Bénezet approached a boatman and held out his three coins. The ferryman looked at them scornfully. “Six obole to cross,” he said. “That’s only three.”
Bénezet pleaded till the man, grumbling that paupers were ruining him, rowed him across. In Avignon the young shepherd wandered the streets open-mouthed. The crowds, the shops, the noise—he hadn’t known there were this many people in the whole world! He followed in the direction most of them were moving and found himself in a great square before an enormous church.
After a while a man in jeweled robes and a bishop’s miter appeared on the porch of the church and began to speak. Bénezet was too far away to hear his words, but if he was to deliver his message to anyone, surely it was to this great man of God. Pushing through the crowd, he scrambled up onto the porch.
Holy Sir! Reverend Father!”
The bishop stopped, the people stared. In the silence, Bénezet’s words rang out over the crowd. “Holy Sir, God has told me to build a bridge over the Rhone!”
Soldiers were moving swiftly to haul this lunatic away when there was a bellow of laughter from the velvet-gowned man at the bishop’s side. It was the provost, highest civil authority in the city. Guffaws swept the crowd, wave after wave of mocking laughter.
“All right, mighty bridge builder,” gasped the provost, when he could speak, “since you hear God so well, I’m sure he’s telling you to pick up that stone there and start this great work at once.”
He pointed to an immense building stone that had been bypassed in recent repairs to the cathedral because it was too big to be lifted even with block and tackle. Following the instructions of one who was clearly a man of importance, Bénezet climbed down from the church porch, lifted the stone onto his shoulder and headed for the riverbank.
Amid the gasps and exclamations of the onlookers Bénezet carried the massive block through the city gate and set it down at the water’s edge. In all that throng, only Bénezet was not surprised at the feat, for he knew whose hands had lifted the weight. Hadn’t an angel been with him all the way from Le Villard? Hadn’t his mother taught him that angels were always near?
Bénezet stood beside the stone, looking out over the Rhone as if he were already seeing the Pont d’Avignon. Mockery turned to astonishment, then to wild enthusiasm for the shepherd’s project. A bridge across the Rhone! No one had ever conceived of such an achievement! A roadway high above the capricious river, safe passage any time, any season. That very day the provost donated 300 gold coins to a building fund, while everyone from churchmen and nobles to the poorest peasant crowded around Bénezet to add their contributions.
In the following weeks, as masons and architects debated the spacing of the piers and the height of the arches, Bénezet traveled up and down the river, repeating the words he had heard on his hillside. At every stop funds poured in for the great undertaking.
John and I walked once more onto the bridge that sprang from the stone Bénezet placed on the riverbank. The four arches date from after his time; the first bridge was lower, with a wooden roadway. Time and again floods and war tore portions of it away. But always it was repaired, enlarged, improved as building techniques developed. Only in the seventeenth century was the old bridge finally abandoned, the remaining arches left as a memorial to a shepherd’s obedience.
What Bénezet gave his twelfth-century world—what he gives us today—is the confidence that with each task God gives us he also says, I will send my angel with you. This is the part of Bénezet’s story that makes it so meaningful to John and me. When we don’t know which way to go, that’s when a stranger falls into step beside us. When we feel ourselves too weak for the burden, that’s when other hands reach out to share the load. And so a song about a bridge is for us a song of faith. The song John and I have long sung together.
-Billy Graham,
"Angels: God’s Secret Agents"
Sur Le Pont d'Avignon
How Saint Bénezet was inspired to build the Bridge of Avignon, over the Rhone River.
By Elizabeth Sherrill
Reprinted with permission from Angels On Earth.
Sur le Pont d’Avignon, l’on y danse, l’on y danse....It was the first French I learned, singing the merry little song as a child: On the Bridge of Avignon, everyone is dancing, everyone is dancing....
“It was my first French too,” said my husband, John, as we drove toward Avignon last spring. Funny how a song can impact a life: Loving the sound of the words, each of us had gone on to study French, meeting as students bound for the French-speaking University of Geneva. Our three children, our eight grandchildren, a lifetime of work together—all because of a song about a bridge. So of course, on reaching Avignon, the bridge was the first thing we wanted to see. We parked outside the crenellated walls of the medieval city and stood gazing out across one of France’s longest, largest rivers. Here the Rhone is swollen and unpredictable. Watermarks on the city walls attest that even today’s dams and dikes cannot prevent the Rhone from periodically rampaging out of its banks.
But where was the Bridge of Avignon?
Signs for a pont had pointed us this way, but they were for a different bridge, the Pont St–Bénezet. We walked on outside the towering walls, the river on our left. And then, rounding a corner of the rampart, we saw the ruins of an ancient bridge so beautiful that we stopped short, staring. Four graceful stone arches, gleaming white in the afternoon light, extended a little way into the river, ending abruptly in midair. We followed a group of tourists up a stairway and stepped out onto the worn stones of the roadway. A few yards along, above the bridge’s second pier, was a small Gothic chapel. Underneath it, down stairs cut into the pier, we found a still older Romanesque chapel dedicated to the mysterious Saint Bénezet.
We climbed back up from the lower chapel and walked the rest of the way out to where the bridge ended, high above the fast-flowing Rhone. Three little French girls skipped past us on the way, singing a familiar song. Sur le pont d’Avignon...This was our bridge, all right! But who was Saint Bénezet?
Over the next few days John and I wandered around Avignon asking about him and getting energetic answers in lively Provençal French. Everyone we asked agreed on two things: Bénezet was a young, illiterate, penniless shepherd, and it was an angel who guided him to build the bridge at Avignon.
From the lady at the tourist information desk we learned that the Romanesque chapel on the bridge had once held the saint’s tomb. He died very young, she told us, while the bridge was still being constructed, his body placed there when it was completed. Many years later, when floods swept most of the bridge away, his casket was moved within the town. Following her directions, we located Bénezet’s final resting place in St. Didier, an austere fourteenth-century church. From the wall, the statue of a young man with a stone at his feet looked down at us; beside him an angel held a bridge in outstretched hands.
More and more intrigued, we went to the library and looked up Bénezet’s story. Here is the account as it has come down across 800 years, a mix of fact and legend—where the legend says even more to John and me than the historical details, fascinating as they are....
Bénezet, researchers agree, was born around 1160 in Le Villard, a hamlet in the rugged Ardèche hills whose rivulets and streams eventually make their way east to the Rhone. Probably he was fatherless; parchments written not long after his death speak of him tending “his mother’s sheep.” As to his age when he came to Avignon, sources agree that he died seven years later; an examination of his remains in 1980 showed them to be those of a young man about 25 years old.
So Bénezet must have been 17 or 18 years old when his life took its sudden, stunning turn. One day as he watched his mother’s flock, he heard a voice call his name. Bénezet! Bénezet! The boy whirled around, but there was no one to be seen. Bénezet, I have chosen you to go to Avignon and build me a bridge across the Rhone. The shepherd lad stared in every direction, but all he could see were the peacefully grazing animals. Go to the great city of Avignon many days away? Nobody he knew had ever been there. And build...a bridge? All he had ever built was a sheep pen. He’d heard of the Rhone—everyone knew of the fearsome river, inhabited by a dragon, it was said, that time after time sent the river raging out of its banks to sweep away farms and villages. Pilgrims to the Holy Land might have to wait for weeks till the ferrymen could row them across. Everyone feared the deadly Rhone.
And yet the command came again. Build a bridge at Avignon. Bénezet protested that he was only a country bumpkin without money or connections. Why, he didn’t even know the way to Avignon! To each objection the answer was the same, I will send my angel with you.
That night Bénezet reported the message to his mother. At first she was as incredulous as he, but at last they agreed that if indeed this was the voice of the Lord then Bénezet must obey. Next morning he took three small coins—all the money he had in the world—wrapped some bread and cheese in his cloak, kissed his mother good-bye, and set out following the mountain streams downhill.
He had gone only a short distance when a pilgrim, a hood hiding his face, appeared on the path and fell into step with him. For three days the two traveled together, at each crossroad the silent stranger pointing the way.
When they reached the bank of the great river, the pilgrim vanished. Now Bénezet knew his fellow traveler was the angel the voice had promised. With new confidence he followed the river south. At last he came to a cluster of people, horses and donkeys gathered at a ferry crossing. On the other side of the broad river rose the walls and towers of Avignon.
Bénezet approached a boatman and held out his three coins. The ferryman looked at them scornfully. “Six obole to cross,” he said. “That’s only three.”
Bénezet pleaded till the man, grumbling that paupers were ruining him, rowed him across. In Avignon the young shepherd wandered the streets open-mouthed. The crowds, the shops, the noise—he hadn’t known there were this many people in the whole world! He followed in the direction most of them were moving and found himself in a great square before an enormous church.
After a while a man in jeweled robes and a bishop’s miter appeared on the porch of the church and began to speak. Bénezet was too far away to hear his words, but if he was to deliver his message to anyone, surely it was to this great man of God. Pushing through the crowd, he scrambled up onto the porch.
Holy Sir! Reverend Father!”
The bishop stopped, the people stared. In the silence, Bénezet’s words rang out over the crowd. “Holy Sir, God has told me to build a bridge over the Rhone!”
Soldiers were moving swiftly to haul this lunatic away when there was a bellow of laughter from the velvet-gowned man at the bishop’s side. It was the provost, highest civil authority in the city. Guffaws swept the crowd, wave after wave of mocking laughter.
“All right, mighty bridge builder,” gasped the provost, when he could speak, “since you hear God so well, I’m sure he’s telling you to pick up that stone there and start this great work at once.”
He pointed to an immense building stone that had been bypassed in recent repairs to the cathedral because it was too big to be lifted even with block and tackle. Following the instructions of one who was clearly a man of importance, Bénezet climbed down from the church porch, lifted the stone onto his shoulder and headed for the riverbank.
Amid the gasps and exclamations of the onlookers Bénezet carried the massive block through the city gate and set it down at the water’s edge. In all that throng, only Bénezet was not surprised at the feat, for he knew whose hands had lifted the weight. Hadn’t an angel been with him all the way from Le Villard? Hadn’t his mother taught him that angels were always near?
Bénezet stood beside the stone, looking out over the Rhone as if he were already seeing the Pont d’Avignon. Mockery turned to astonishment, then to wild enthusiasm for the shepherd’s project. A bridge across the Rhone! No one had ever conceived of such an achievement! A roadway high above the capricious river, safe passage any time, any season. That very day the provost donated 300 gold coins to a building fund, while everyone from churchmen and nobles to the poorest peasant crowded around Bénezet to add their contributions.
In the following weeks, as masons and architects debated the spacing of the piers and the height of the arches, Bénezet traveled up and down the river, repeating the words he had heard on his hillside. At every stop funds poured in for the great undertaking.
John and I walked once more onto the bridge that sprang from the stone Bénezet placed on the riverbank. The four arches date from after his time; the first bridge was lower, with a wooden roadway. Time and again floods and war tore portions of it away. But always it was repaired, enlarged, improved as building techniques developed. Only in the seventeenth century was the old bridge finally abandoned, the remaining arches left as a memorial to a shepherd’s obedience.
What Bénezet gave his twelfth-century world—what he gives us today—is the confidence that with each task God gives us he also says, I will send my angel with you. This is the part of Bénezet’s story that makes it so meaningful to John and me. When we don’t know which way to go, that’s when a stranger falls into step beside us. When we feel ourselves too weak for the burden, that’s when other hands reach out to share the load. And so a song about a bridge is for us a song of faith. The song John and I have long sung together.
Making the Right Decision
Deciding the best choice is made easier with help from above.
By Jackie Clements-Marenda
Reprinted with permission from Angels on Earth, a Guideposts publication.
Don't let them do it," my Uncle Eddie begged, clutching my arm. "I'd rather die than be trapped in a wheelchair!" "You'll get an artificial leg, and with some therapy you'll be able to walk again, maybe even dance a jig or two," I told him gently, covering his hand with mine. "There's no other choice."
"I'm too old to adjust," he insisted. "Please, Jacquelyn." He pinned me with those deep-blue Irish eyes that had watched over me through my turbulent teenage years. My dad, his brother, died when I was 11, and Uncle Eddie had given up his easygoing bachelor life to be a father figure to me. Could I deny him now?
Just an hour later I sat in a conference room opposite his doctor. A consent form lay between us.
"You're his only blood relative and we need your signature. He'll die if we don't take the leg."
I can't do this, I thought. I was only 21; married and expecting my first child. It should have been a joyous time, but my uncle developed gangrene in both legs, a complication from diabetes. The doctor said one leg had to be amputated from the knee down. To make matters worse, Uncle Eddie had suffered a stroke, leaving him too disoriented to make the decision himself.
Yet in a moment of coherence, he had made his wishes clear. Now I had to decide what was best for him as he had always done for me. I couldn't imagine life without him, but if I. truly loved him, how could I sentence him to a life he insisted he could not bear?
"I'll give you a few minutes alone," the doctor said, rising.
"Help me, God. I don't know what to do," I whispered as the door shut. "You must sign the form," said a voice from behind me. "It's the right thing to do." I turned to find a young nurse standing there. I hadn't heard her come in. "Your uncle will survive the surgery. He'll adjust." "You don't know Uncle Eddie...." I shook my head, sighing.
"I do know him," she said, "and his stubbornness will be his greatest asset during recovery." I found myself staring intently into her eyes. Her absolute certainty silenced my doubts. I signed the form.
When I looked up, the nurse had left. I gave the form to the receptionist and asked which way the nurse had gone.
"No one left or entered the room besides the doctor and you," she said.
"You must have seen her," I insisted. "A young Asian woman?"
"No, I'm sure there's no one by that description working here."
I knew what I had seen. And I also knew I had made the right choice; my uncle came to realize that too. He lived three more happy years, taking walks daily and playing with his new grandniece. I smile when I think of him decorating heaven with shamrocks for Saint Patrick's Day and dancing a lively Irish jig with a certain young nurse who helped me make the hardest decision of my life.
Deciding the best choice is made easier with help from above.
By Jackie Clements-Marenda
Reprinted with permission from Angels on Earth, a Guideposts publication.
Don't let them do it," my Uncle Eddie begged, clutching my arm. "I'd rather die than be trapped in a wheelchair!" "You'll get an artificial leg, and with some therapy you'll be able to walk again, maybe even dance a jig or two," I told him gently, covering his hand with mine. "There's no other choice."
"I'm too old to adjust," he insisted. "Please, Jacquelyn." He pinned me with those deep-blue Irish eyes that had watched over me through my turbulent teenage years. My dad, his brother, died when I was 11, and Uncle Eddie had given up his easygoing bachelor life to be a father figure to me. Could I deny him now?
Just an hour later I sat in a conference room opposite his doctor. A consent form lay between us.
"You're his only blood relative and we need your signature. He'll die if we don't take the leg."
I can't do this, I thought. I was only 21; married and expecting my first child. It should have been a joyous time, but my uncle developed gangrene in both legs, a complication from diabetes. The doctor said one leg had to be amputated from the knee down. To make matters worse, Uncle Eddie had suffered a stroke, leaving him too disoriented to make the decision himself.
Yet in a moment of coherence, he had made his wishes clear. Now I had to decide what was best for him as he had always done for me. I couldn't imagine life without him, but if I. truly loved him, how could I sentence him to a life he insisted he could not bear?
"I'll give you a few minutes alone," the doctor said, rising.
"Help me, God. I don't know what to do," I whispered as the door shut. "You must sign the form," said a voice from behind me. "It's the right thing to do." I turned to find a young nurse standing there. I hadn't heard her come in. "Your uncle will survive the surgery. He'll adjust." "You don't know Uncle Eddie...." I shook my head, sighing.
"I do know him," she said, "and his stubbornness will be his greatest asset during recovery." I found myself staring intently into her eyes. Her absolute certainty silenced my doubts. I signed the form.
When I looked up, the nurse had left. I gave the form to the receptionist and asked which way the nurse had gone.
"No one left or entered the room besides the doctor and you," she said.
"You must have seen her," I insisted. "A young Asian woman?"
"No, I'm sure there's no one by that description working here."
I knew what I had seen. And I also knew I had made the right choice; my uncle came to realize that too. He lived three more happy years, taking walks daily and playing with his new grandniece. I smile when I think of him decorating heaven with shamrocks for Saint Patrick's Day and dancing a lively Irish jig with a certain young nurse who helped me make the hardest decision of my life.
The minute you speak to your angel for the first time, you will never be alone again, because our angels are always with us. No matter where you are as you read this, you are surrounded by angels.
-Eileen Elias Freeman, "Angelic Healing"
Caught by an Angel
When her child sustains no physical bruises in a nasty fall, a mother sees God's protection at work.
By Joan Wester Anderson
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/102/story_10254_1.html
Reprinted with permission of Joan Wester Anderson, from her website.
Krisellen Lang had lost her first three babies at early stages in her pregnancies. So when she found herself expecting yet again, it was hard to work up any enthusiasm. Why should she begin to love this child when it might never live long enough to be born?
But Krisellen's pregnancy was a result of in vitro fertilization, with four embryos transferred--and the hope that one would implant. When she went to her obstetrician for her first checkup and ultrasound, she discovered that all four embryos had implanted! "It was as if God was giving me all my lost children back," she says. The pregnancy proceeded normally, and her quadruplets, two boys and two girls, were born robust and healthy.
It was a hectic time, and eventually Krisellen's marriage faltered. "Our divorce was mutual and amicable, and David is, and always has been, a wonderful father," Krisellen says. But she was understandably fearful. How would she raise four children alone? Krisellen prayed as she never had before. God had heard her once, she knew, and brought her joy after suffering. Could He, would He do so again?
She found a part-time job at a construction company, and her family pitched in to help care for the quads. It seemed as if she might just make it--until one morning when she stopped at a job site to measure the rooms in a house. Her four three-year-olds were with her, so she brought them into the house to "help."
One of the rooms had a hole in the center of the floor, so Krisellen directed the children to stand at the edge of the room, all except for Addison, who was holding one end of the tape measure. Krisellen took the other end, and started for the far corner. When she looked back, Addison was dancing on her tippy toes, a recently acquired skill. "Addison, stop, you're going to trip," Krisellen said, and then screamed. Addison had stumbled and was falling backwards through the hole!
Krisellen ran to the hole and looked down. Her daughter had fallen eight feet, and was lying face down on the concrete basement floor. Addison was completely still. The other children burst into tears. "Hurry!" Krisellen told them. "We have to get down there!" They rushed out the house and around to the basement stairs. When they reached Addison, she seemed lifeless. But as Krisellen gently lifted her head, the little girl began to vomit. "Her eyes were staring off to the side, and I couldn't bear to look at them," Krisellen recalls. "So I closed them and held her head so she wouldn't choke."
Krisellen called for the paramedics on her cell phone, and sent the other children outside to wait for them. When they arrived, they fitted Addison with a cervical collar and sped away as Krisellen herded the children into her car to follow. Later, the paramedics told her that Addison was completely unresponsive all the way to the hospital. In the emergency room, Addison was examined, then whisked off for tests. "It's lucky that she landed on her face," the emergency room physician tried to reassure Krisellen. "She might be spared brain damage.
"I don't know how that could be," Krisellen told him, "because she fell backwards into the hole."
The doctor shrugged. "That's odd, because there are no bruises on her face."
Something else was odd too. When the radiologist came out to give Krisellen the results of Addison's cat scan and x-rays, he was baffled. "There are no signs of any injuries," he told her. "No concussion, no internal injuries. She may have some bruising later, even a few little facial fractures, and you can give her Tylenol for that. Otherwise, she's fine. You can take her home now."
Home? Krisellen was stunned. How could her daughter have sustained such a terrible fall, with no injuries? But here she was, walking down the hall with a nurse, smiling and completely herself. How could this be?
It wasn't until that evening that Krisellen learned the answer. She and the four children were saying their night prayers together, and they all thanked God for keeping Addison safe. Krisellen started to get up off her knees. "Mommy," Addison looked up. "Aren't we going to thank the angel too?"
"The angel?" Krisellen asked.
"Uh huh. She was with me in the hole," Addison said matter-of-factly. Krisellen started to cry. "Don't cry, Mommy, she was very happy. She was all sparkly!"
Addison never did develop any bruises, but she did make sure that everyone she loved heard about her beautiful angel. And when she eventually moved into another bedroom, Addison asked for angel wallpaper. (Her sister, Blythe, wanted Barbie.)
Today Krisellen still recalls the event with awe. "I never should have exposed the children to such danger," she says. "But I think everything happens for a reason. Perhaps God wanted me to know that I would never raise the children alone, that He would send all the help I needed."
-Eileen Elias Freeman, "Angelic Healing"
Caught by an Angel
When her child sustains no physical bruises in a nasty fall, a mother sees God's protection at work.
By Joan Wester Anderson
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/102/story_10254_1.html
Reprinted with permission of Joan Wester Anderson, from her website.
Krisellen Lang had lost her first three babies at early stages in her pregnancies. So when she found herself expecting yet again, it was hard to work up any enthusiasm. Why should she begin to love this child when it might never live long enough to be born?
But Krisellen's pregnancy was a result of in vitro fertilization, with four embryos transferred--and the hope that one would implant. When she went to her obstetrician for her first checkup and ultrasound, she discovered that all four embryos had implanted! "It was as if God was giving me all my lost children back," she says. The pregnancy proceeded normally, and her quadruplets, two boys and two girls, were born robust and healthy.
It was a hectic time, and eventually Krisellen's marriage faltered. "Our divorce was mutual and amicable, and David is, and always has been, a wonderful father," Krisellen says. But she was understandably fearful. How would she raise four children alone? Krisellen prayed as she never had before. God had heard her once, she knew, and brought her joy after suffering. Could He, would He do so again?
She found a part-time job at a construction company, and her family pitched in to help care for the quads. It seemed as if she might just make it--until one morning when she stopped at a job site to measure the rooms in a house. Her four three-year-olds were with her, so she brought them into the house to "help."
One of the rooms had a hole in the center of the floor, so Krisellen directed the children to stand at the edge of the room, all except for Addison, who was holding one end of the tape measure. Krisellen took the other end, and started for the far corner. When she looked back, Addison was dancing on her tippy toes, a recently acquired skill. "Addison, stop, you're going to trip," Krisellen said, and then screamed. Addison had stumbled and was falling backwards through the hole!
Krisellen ran to the hole and looked down. Her daughter had fallen eight feet, and was lying face down on the concrete basement floor. Addison was completely still. The other children burst into tears. "Hurry!" Krisellen told them. "We have to get down there!" They rushed out the house and around to the basement stairs. When they reached Addison, she seemed lifeless. But as Krisellen gently lifted her head, the little girl began to vomit. "Her eyes were staring off to the side, and I couldn't bear to look at them," Krisellen recalls. "So I closed them and held her head so she wouldn't choke."
Krisellen called for the paramedics on her cell phone, and sent the other children outside to wait for them. When they arrived, they fitted Addison with a cervical collar and sped away as Krisellen herded the children into her car to follow. Later, the paramedics told her that Addison was completely unresponsive all the way to the hospital. In the emergency room, Addison was examined, then whisked off for tests. "It's lucky that she landed on her face," the emergency room physician tried to reassure Krisellen. "She might be spared brain damage.
"I don't know how that could be," Krisellen told him, "because she fell backwards into the hole."
The doctor shrugged. "That's odd, because there are no bruises on her face."
Something else was odd too. When the radiologist came out to give Krisellen the results of Addison's cat scan and x-rays, he was baffled. "There are no signs of any injuries," he told her. "No concussion, no internal injuries. She may have some bruising later, even a few little facial fractures, and you can give her Tylenol for that. Otherwise, she's fine. You can take her home now."
Home? Krisellen was stunned. How could her daughter have sustained such a terrible fall, with no injuries? But here she was, walking down the hall with a nurse, smiling and completely herself. How could this be?
It wasn't until that evening that Krisellen learned the answer. She and the four children were saying their night prayers together, and they all thanked God for keeping Addison safe. Krisellen started to get up off her knees. "Mommy," Addison looked up. "Aren't we going to thank the angel too?"
"The angel?" Krisellen asked.
"Uh huh. She was with me in the hole," Addison said matter-of-factly. Krisellen started to cry. "Don't cry, Mommy, she was very happy. She was all sparkly!"
Addison never did develop any bruises, but she did make sure that everyone she loved heard about her beautiful angel. And when she eventually moved into another bedroom, Addison asked for angel wallpaper. (Her sister, Blythe, wanted Barbie.)
Today Krisellen still recalls the event with awe. "I never should have exposed the children to such danger," she says. "But I think everything happens for a reason. Perhaps God wanted me to know that I would never raise the children alone, that He would send all the help I needed."
Angel With a 'One' Way Sign
Was writing my new career path? I wasn't sure--until I found something at the craft store.
By Beliefnet Member, OneWingAngel
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/190/stor ... mc_id=NL24
I was laid off for six months and my health began to compromise my ability to work outside my home. The reality that I may never return to office work pierced through me. The only positive thing in my life was that I was over half way through completing a correspondence writing course. I was writing a new story for an assignment based on my mother who was battling cancer when she became unexpectedly pregnant with me. Without hesitation, she made the life changing and risky decision to stop radiation therapy. She gave birth to me at the expense of losing her right arm and shoulder to an uncontrollable Desmoid tumor when I was six months old.
One day while I was browsing a craft store; I remember thinking to myself, “Has any of my past career successes been worthy of my mother’s sacrifice? Is writing my new career? I need a sign." Two seconds later, as I was leaving the store, I was drawn to a discount table strewn with knick-knacks. I wasn’t looking at anything in particular when my right hand picked up a wooden angel figurine. It was a simple, lovely piece. The angel had golden hair and wore a patriotic style gown. I quickly discovered I couldn’t put it down or walk away from the table without purchasing it. I felt a heavy pressure upon my shoulders as if someone was leading me toward the check-out line.
When I arrived home, I excitedly walked into my dining room and took the angel figurine from the sack to place her in my curio cabinet. As I stood back to admire her, I gasped in disbelief. I picked up the figurine again and realized the angel bore ONE wing. My husband walked into the room and calmly pointed out, “She has one wing, just like your mom.” We carefully turned the angel over onto her back to discover no evidence she was ever made with two wings.
This one-winged angel figurine is no doubt a sign as it is an image that I understand. Ever since then, I have been actively pursuing a writing career and I have recently completed my first book manuscript. Each time I look at my angel figurine, I know that I am on the right career path.
Was writing my new career path? I wasn't sure--until I found something at the craft store.
By Beliefnet Member, OneWingAngel
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/190/stor ... mc_id=NL24
I was laid off for six months and my health began to compromise my ability to work outside my home. The reality that I may never return to office work pierced through me. The only positive thing in my life was that I was over half way through completing a correspondence writing course. I was writing a new story for an assignment based on my mother who was battling cancer when she became unexpectedly pregnant with me. Without hesitation, she made the life changing and risky decision to stop radiation therapy. She gave birth to me at the expense of losing her right arm and shoulder to an uncontrollable Desmoid tumor when I was six months old.
One day while I was browsing a craft store; I remember thinking to myself, “Has any of my past career successes been worthy of my mother’s sacrifice? Is writing my new career? I need a sign." Two seconds later, as I was leaving the store, I was drawn to a discount table strewn with knick-knacks. I wasn’t looking at anything in particular when my right hand picked up a wooden angel figurine. It was a simple, lovely piece. The angel had golden hair and wore a patriotic style gown. I quickly discovered I couldn’t put it down or walk away from the table without purchasing it. I felt a heavy pressure upon my shoulders as if someone was leading me toward the check-out line.
When I arrived home, I excitedly walked into my dining room and took the angel figurine from the sack to place her in my curio cabinet. As I stood back to admire her, I gasped in disbelief. I picked up the figurine again and realized the angel bore ONE wing. My husband walked into the room and calmly pointed out, “She has one wing, just like your mom.” We carefully turned the angel over onto her back to discover no evidence she was ever made with two wings.
This one-winged angel figurine is no doubt a sign as it is an image that I understand. Ever since then, I have been actively pursuing a writing career and I have recently completed my first book manuscript. Each time I look at my angel figurine, I know that I am on the right career path.
God's Customer Service Department
As Bill Korducki found out, not all angels have wings and halos.
By Joan Wester Anderson
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/127/stor ... mc_id=NL24
Reprinted with permission from Joan Wester Anderson's website.
Bill Korducki of Burlington, Wisconsin is convinced that from time to time God uses us, instead of angels, to keep one another from harm. It’s happened to him.
Some years ago, Bill was paying for his college tuition and books by working at a local department store. One day he was sent across town to another mall to fill in for a person on his day off. “The mall across town was much larger than the place where I usually worked,” Bill recalls. “It had two floors, and a big open area in the middle with a railing and benches all around overlooking the galleria below.”
After completing the morning shift Bill went to a restaurant in the mall for lunch. As he made his way back towards his store, he noticed a little girl, her mother, and grandmother on a bench set against the railing overlooking the galleria. “The mother and grandmother were engaged in an intense discussion, completely focused on each another,” Bill says. “As I continued in their direction, I noticed that the little girl, perhaps three years of age, was trying to climb over the railing. She had succeeded in swinging her left leg over the railing and was trying to shift her weight and push off the bench with her right leg. Neither of the women noticed her.”
Bill was stunned. Of course he was hesitant to grab someone else's child. He had learned in the retail business that it’s important to be gentle with children, no matter what they’re doing. And it was important not to offend the parents too. But this child was going to topple over in a moment, and if he shouted…
Bill quickened his pace, reached the girl, and gently pulled her off the railing. “You shouldn’t be climbing on the railing like that,” he told the child, just loud enough for the adults to hear. “You could fall and get hurt. That would upset your mother very much."
Suddenly Bill had the mother and grandmother's full attention. They were very embarrassed as he handed the child back to them. “Her guardian angel sent me,” he told them, brushing off their thanks, and hurried on to his department. “After all, I was paid on commission and I needed all the sales I could get to pay for college!” He was realizing that he might have saved the little girl's life. A 50-foot fall into the galleria could have certainly injured her seriously, if it didn't kill her.
Awhile later, the store was abuzz with another wild customer tale-—there were always a few to share. A clerk from another department came to Bill, laughing. “Have you heard?” she asked. “An old lady and her daughter went to security, claiming an angel saved her granddaughter from a fall, and when she looked up after he handed the little girl to her, he disappeared!"
Oh, no. Bill wondered what to do. He was the only one who knew the truth, yet how could he stop a false story from spreading? But later, as he was stationed near the store exit, he saw the women and the little girl walking through his department! He called to them. They were astounded, and rushed over to him.
“I’m not an angel,” Bill assured them. “But your granddaughter's guardian angel had me at that place at that time to do what I did. Just remember to continue to pray. It does work."
They thanked Bill, said goodnight and left the store with a bewildered look on their faces. “As for me,” says Bill, “I thanked God for giving me the chance to do an angel’s work.”
As Bill Korducki found out, not all angels have wings and halos.
By Joan Wester Anderson
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/127/stor ... mc_id=NL24
Reprinted with permission from Joan Wester Anderson's website.
Bill Korducki of Burlington, Wisconsin is convinced that from time to time God uses us, instead of angels, to keep one another from harm. It’s happened to him.
Some years ago, Bill was paying for his college tuition and books by working at a local department store. One day he was sent across town to another mall to fill in for a person on his day off. “The mall across town was much larger than the place where I usually worked,” Bill recalls. “It had two floors, and a big open area in the middle with a railing and benches all around overlooking the galleria below.”
After completing the morning shift Bill went to a restaurant in the mall for lunch. As he made his way back towards his store, he noticed a little girl, her mother, and grandmother on a bench set against the railing overlooking the galleria. “The mother and grandmother were engaged in an intense discussion, completely focused on each another,” Bill says. “As I continued in their direction, I noticed that the little girl, perhaps three years of age, was trying to climb over the railing. She had succeeded in swinging her left leg over the railing and was trying to shift her weight and push off the bench with her right leg. Neither of the women noticed her.”
Bill was stunned. Of course he was hesitant to grab someone else's child. He had learned in the retail business that it’s important to be gentle with children, no matter what they’re doing. And it was important not to offend the parents too. But this child was going to topple over in a moment, and if he shouted…
Bill quickened his pace, reached the girl, and gently pulled her off the railing. “You shouldn’t be climbing on the railing like that,” he told the child, just loud enough for the adults to hear. “You could fall and get hurt. That would upset your mother very much."
Suddenly Bill had the mother and grandmother's full attention. They were very embarrassed as he handed the child back to them. “Her guardian angel sent me,” he told them, brushing off their thanks, and hurried on to his department. “After all, I was paid on commission and I needed all the sales I could get to pay for college!” He was realizing that he might have saved the little girl's life. A 50-foot fall into the galleria could have certainly injured her seriously, if it didn't kill her.
Awhile later, the store was abuzz with another wild customer tale-—there were always a few to share. A clerk from another department came to Bill, laughing. “Have you heard?” she asked. “An old lady and her daughter went to security, claiming an angel saved her granddaughter from a fall, and when she looked up after he handed the little girl to her, he disappeared!"
Oh, no. Bill wondered what to do. He was the only one who knew the truth, yet how could he stop a false story from spreading? But later, as he was stationed near the store exit, he saw the women and the little girl walking through his department! He called to them. They were astounded, and rushed over to him.
“I’m not an angel,” Bill assured them. “But your granddaughter's guardian angel had me at that place at that time to do what I did. Just remember to continue to pray. It does work."
They thanked Bill, said goodnight and left the store with a bewildered look on their faces. “As for me,” says Bill, “I thanked God for giving me the chance to do an angel’s work.”
You Say Malachim, I Say Apsaras
Angels, by any name, exist in many world religions.
By Rebecca Phillips
Rosy-cheeked, winged cherubs may be the most common images associated with angels, but these heavenly messengers actually take many forms in world religions. Whether they are Buddhist devas, Muslim malaikah, or Mormon ministering spirits, angels play important roles in many faiths. Read on to find out about angels' various functions, forms, and figures.
BUDDHISM CATHOLICISM EASTERN ORTHODOXY
HINDUISM ISLAM JUDAISM MORMONISM
PROTESTANT CHRISTIANITY
Buddhism
Angel basics:
The Buddhist equivalent of angels is devas, or celestial beings. Some schools of Buddhism also refer to dharmapalas or dharma protectors. In Tibetan Buddhism, for instance, devas are sometimes considered to be emanations of bodhisattvas or enlightened beings. Different schools of Buddhism have different important devas, as they are often derived from pre-Buddhist cultures and religions and not from Buddhist philosophy.
Form:
Devas are spiritual beings by nature--their form is usually described as bodies or emanations of light or energy. They are, however, often depicted in physical form, and there are many images of devas or dharmapalas, particularly in Tibetan Buddhist iconography.
Intervention:
Devas normally do not interfere in human affairs, but as Buddhist teacher Lama Surya Das notes, they have been known to rejoice, applaud, and rain down flowers for good deeds performed in the world. In Thailand, it is believed that devas approve of people meditating and will harass people of whose behavior they don't approve. Important angels:
The bodhisattva of compassion, known as Kwan Yin in Chinese and Chenrezig in Tibetan, is widely viewed as a sort of Buddhist angel. The bodhisattva's original Sanskrit name, Avolokiteshvara, means "hearer of the 10,000 cries"--that is, he or she (the bodhisattva is male in the original Buddhist texts, but is represented as female in many Buddhist schools) perceives the suffering of all sentient beings. In some sects, reciting her name is believed to summon her aid.
Catholicism
Angel basics:
Angels in Catholicism are intermediaries between God and humans. In addition to their role as servants and messengers, angels are also attendants to God's throne. Catholic theology outlines a hierarchy of nine choirs of angels divided into three groups: Seraphim, Cherubim and Thrones; Dominations, Virtues and Powers; Principalities, Archangels and Angels.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church declares: "The existence of the spiritual, non-corporeal beings that Sacred Scripture usually calls 'ANGELS' is a truth of faith." Angels have a huge role in Christian history--announcing Christ's birth, protecting Christ in the wilderness, battling Satan in the Book of Revelation, and more.
Form:
Angels are pure spirits and don't have corporeal forms. They remain disembodied forever. Traditional Catholicism teaches that angels speak "within" a person, and not "to" them, thereby maintaining their spiritual nature.
Intervention:
Catholics believe that each individual also has his or her own guardian angel. Guardian angels can intervene in human affairs to help people. They can also influence people's senses and imaginations, but not their will. They remain with their charges even in heaven. The Catechism states: "From infancy to death human life is surrounded by their watchful care and intercession." Catholics pray to angels to ask for their help and intercession in human affairs.
Important angels:
Gabriel, Raphael, and Michael are the chief angels, called archangels. Gabriel announced to Mary that she would give birth to the son of God. Michael's role includes fighting evil and Satan and rescuing the souls of the faithful at the hour of death. He will be present at the time of the Antichrist and the end of the world. Raphael appears only in the Apocrypha, as the angel who helped Tobiah cure his father's blindness in the book of Tobit. The unnamed Angel of the Lord in the Old Testament is said by some to be the pre-incarnate Christ. Lucifer is the fallen archangel who, with one-third of the angelic host, was cast out of heaven for the sin of pride. He presides over hell and seeks to lure mankind to sin.
Eastern Orthodoxy
Angel basics:
Angels and archangels are part of the hierarchy of nine bodiless powers in Orthodox tradition. Angels are workers and messengers of God.
Form:
Angels are usually described in a physical way, either as having the form of man, or being six-winged. However, angels do not actually have physical bodies.
Intervention:
Of all the nine types of spirit beings, the angels are the closest to man. They are appointed to guard and help believers.
Important angels:
Orthodox Christians follow a hierarchy of angels similar to Catholicism, also divided into three levels. The Seraphim are the closest to the Holy Trinity. The most important of all angels is the archangel Michael. Other archangels include Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, Selaphiel, Jehudiel, Barachiel, and Jeremiel. Satan, the fallen angel, plays a similar role to that of other Christian denominations.
Hinduism
Angel basics:
While not specifically referred to as angels, Hinduism does have many different types of spirit beings who act in a similar capacity. One example is the minor gods, or devas, literally "shining ones," who inhabit the higher astral plane. Gods, devas, planets like Sani (Saturn), gurus (teachers), and ancestors can all play a protective role for humans. Also present in Hinduism are asuras, evil spirits or demons. They are fallen devas who inhabit the lower astral plane, the mental plane of existence. If asuras do good, they can be reincarnated into devas and do not have to remain eternally in the lower plane. Hinduism also includes apsaras, who are heavenly nymphs, angiris, who preside over sacrifices, and lipika, who regulate karma.
Form:
Devas and apsaras are spiritual beings, but they are often depicted in physical form. Apsaras are seductively beautiful and the devas often look like royalty, stately and handsome.
Intervention:
Devas and asuras can inspire or bring down aspirants, helping or hindering people's spiritual journey.
Important angels:
No specific individual angels.
Islam
Angel basics:
Angels in Islam, or malaikah, play an essential role as messengers and intermediaries from Allah to the world, beginning with the angel Jabrai'il (Gabriel) who revealed the Qur’an, Islam's holy book, to the Prophet Muhammad.
Form:
Angels do not have a real physical shape. Though at certain times angels may materialize in different forms in dreams or visions, their true form is incomprehensible to humans.
Intervention:
Every person has two guardian angels in their lives. Guardian angels watch and record everything people do.
Important angels:
The most important of these messengers was the angel Gabriel, or Jabra'il, who Muslims believe revealed the Qur'an from Allah to Muhammad. The other Islamic archangels are Mika'il (Michael), who patrols the Israelites, Israfil, who will sound the trumpet on the last day, and Izra'il, who is the angel of death. Munkar and Nakir are two other angels who visit graves and test the faith of the recently deceased. Shaitan, the Muslim equivalent of the devil, is also important in Islam. Also called Iblis, Shaitan is the source of evil in the world. He is not considered an angel, but instead is a member of the jinn, invisible spirit beings who can be good or bad. Shaitan tempts humans are tries to mislead them.
Judaism
Angel basics:
Angels in Judaism, or malachim, are messengers of God who help carry out God's work and plans. For a complete explanation of the role of angels in Judaism, see this column on angels in Jewish tradition.
Form:
Angels are purely spiritual beings who do not have a physical form. Biblical angels do take on physical form, though Maimonides, the great Jewish sage and biblical commentator, later wrote that physical descriptions of angels were metaphorical.
Intervention:
Angels intervene in stories in the Torah (the first five books of the Bible) as God's messengers, such as when an angel stops Abraham from sacrificing his son Isaac. There is also the famous story of Jacob wrestling with an angel. But in general, angels initiate the communication from God, not vice-versa. There is no angel worship in Judaism, and Jews believe that it is only God who determines what happens on earth—angels merely carry out God's will.
Important angels:
Traditionally, Micha'el is a guardian of the people Israel. He carries out God's mission of kindness. Gabriel is the angel of judgment and strength. Uriel is an angel who illumines the right path. Raphael is a healer.
Mormonism:
Angel basics:
Angels are described in the Doctrine and Covenant as being one of the two kinds of bodies in heaven. They are described as "resurrected personages." They are considered by Mormons to be messengers of God and "ministering spirits."
Form:
Angels are either ministering spirits or more evolved human beings who have flesh and bone.
Intervention:
Latter-day Saints believe that angels can appear to people in a very literal sense, but not necessarily that each person has a specifically assigned guardian angel. Angels serve to advance the work of the Lord through giving instruction or authority for specific tasks, as was the case with the founding of the Mormon religion. Angels can also impart comfort, warning, protection, or knowledge but never in a way that interferes with human free will. Mormons believe that "the whispering of the Holy Ghost" is a more common and ultimately more effective way in which God communicates with individuals.
Important angels:
Mormons believe that their founding prophet, Joseph Smith, was visited by the angel Moroni who led him to the Book of Mormon. (Moroni was once human, the son of the prophet Mormon, who became an angel after he died.) A golden statue of Moroni sits atop most Mormon temples.
Protestant Christianity
Angel basics:
Angels are messengers and carry out God's will. Some angels are guardian angels. John Calvin viewed angels as protectors and helpers. Angels are recognized as very powerful beings. The gospels are full of examples of the angels intervening with Jesus, as announcers of his birth, ministers to him in the wilderness, and more.
Form:
Angels are created as spirit beings—not as humans. They can take on a corporeal form if doing so will help them do their work on earth. They are genderless and invisible.
Intervention:
They provide guidance and assurance to believers. Guardian angels help protect people from harm. Not all angels are good, however.
Important angels:
All biblical angels are important. Most Protestant theologians, however, warn against the Catholic practice of praying to angels (which they viewed as angel worship) and the angel hierarchy of Catholicism because these traditions were not biblical and were seen as having pagan roots. Christianity also teaches that Lucifer, the devil, was a fallen angel who rebelled against God and was kicked out of heaven.
Angels, by any name, exist in many world religions.
By Rebecca Phillips
Rosy-cheeked, winged cherubs may be the most common images associated with angels, but these heavenly messengers actually take many forms in world religions. Whether they are Buddhist devas, Muslim malaikah, or Mormon ministering spirits, angels play important roles in many faiths. Read on to find out about angels' various functions, forms, and figures.
BUDDHISM CATHOLICISM EASTERN ORTHODOXY
HINDUISM ISLAM JUDAISM MORMONISM
PROTESTANT CHRISTIANITY
Buddhism
Angel basics:
The Buddhist equivalent of angels is devas, or celestial beings. Some schools of Buddhism also refer to dharmapalas or dharma protectors. In Tibetan Buddhism, for instance, devas are sometimes considered to be emanations of bodhisattvas or enlightened beings. Different schools of Buddhism have different important devas, as they are often derived from pre-Buddhist cultures and religions and not from Buddhist philosophy.
Form:
Devas are spiritual beings by nature--their form is usually described as bodies or emanations of light or energy. They are, however, often depicted in physical form, and there are many images of devas or dharmapalas, particularly in Tibetan Buddhist iconography.
Intervention:
Devas normally do not interfere in human affairs, but as Buddhist teacher Lama Surya Das notes, they have been known to rejoice, applaud, and rain down flowers for good deeds performed in the world. In Thailand, it is believed that devas approve of people meditating and will harass people of whose behavior they don't approve. Important angels:
The bodhisattva of compassion, known as Kwan Yin in Chinese and Chenrezig in Tibetan, is widely viewed as a sort of Buddhist angel. The bodhisattva's original Sanskrit name, Avolokiteshvara, means "hearer of the 10,000 cries"--that is, he or she (the bodhisattva is male in the original Buddhist texts, but is represented as female in many Buddhist schools) perceives the suffering of all sentient beings. In some sects, reciting her name is believed to summon her aid.
Catholicism
Angel basics:
Angels in Catholicism are intermediaries between God and humans. In addition to their role as servants and messengers, angels are also attendants to God's throne. Catholic theology outlines a hierarchy of nine choirs of angels divided into three groups: Seraphim, Cherubim and Thrones; Dominations, Virtues and Powers; Principalities, Archangels and Angels.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church declares: "The existence of the spiritual, non-corporeal beings that Sacred Scripture usually calls 'ANGELS' is a truth of faith." Angels have a huge role in Christian history--announcing Christ's birth, protecting Christ in the wilderness, battling Satan in the Book of Revelation, and more.
Form:
Angels are pure spirits and don't have corporeal forms. They remain disembodied forever. Traditional Catholicism teaches that angels speak "within" a person, and not "to" them, thereby maintaining their spiritual nature.
Intervention:
Catholics believe that each individual also has his or her own guardian angel. Guardian angels can intervene in human affairs to help people. They can also influence people's senses and imaginations, but not their will. They remain with their charges even in heaven. The Catechism states: "From infancy to death human life is surrounded by their watchful care and intercession." Catholics pray to angels to ask for their help and intercession in human affairs.
Important angels:
Gabriel, Raphael, and Michael are the chief angels, called archangels. Gabriel announced to Mary that she would give birth to the son of God. Michael's role includes fighting evil and Satan and rescuing the souls of the faithful at the hour of death. He will be present at the time of the Antichrist and the end of the world. Raphael appears only in the Apocrypha, as the angel who helped Tobiah cure his father's blindness in the book of Tobit. The unnamed Angel of the Lord in the Old Testament is said by some to be the pre-incarnate Christ. Lucifer is the fallen archangel who, with one-third of the angelic host, was cast out of heaven for the sin of pride. He presides over hell and seeks to lure mankind to sin.
Eastern Orthodoxy
Angel basics:
Angels and archangels are part of the hierarchy of nine bodiless powers in Orthodox tradition. Angels are workers and messengers of God.
Form:
Angels are usually described in a physical way, either as having the form of man, or being six-winged. However, angels do not actually have physical bodies.
Intervention:
Of all the nine types of spirit beings, the angels are the closest to man. They are appointed to guard and help believers.
Important angels:
Orthodox Christians follow a hierarchy of angels similar to Catholicism, also divided into three levels. The Seraphim are the closest to the Holy Trinity. The most important of all angels is the archangel Michael. Other archangels include Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, Selaphiel, Jehudiel, Barachiel, and Jeremiel. Satan, the fallen angel, plays a similar role to that of other Christian denominations.
Hinduism
Angel basics:
While not specifically referred to as angels, Hinduism does have many different types of spirit beings who act in a similar capacity. One example is the minor gods, or devas, literally "shining ones," who inhabit the higher astral plane. Gods, devas, planets like Sani (Saturn), gurus (teachers), and ancestors can all play a protective role for humans. Also present in Hinduism are asuras, evil spirits or demons. They are fallen devas who inhabit the lower astral plane, the mental plane of existence. If asuras do good, they can be reincarnated into devas and do not have to remain eternally in the lower plane. Hinduism also includes apsaras, who are heavenly nymphs, angiris, who preside over sacrifices, and lipika, who regulate karma.
Form:
Devas and apsaras are spiritual beings, but they are often depicted in physical form. Apsaras are seductively beautiful and the devas often look like royalty, stately and handsome.
Intervention:
Devas and asuras can inspire or bring down aspirants, helping or hindering people's spiritual journey.
Important angels:
No specific individual angels.
Islam
Angel basics:
Angels in Islam, or malaikah, play an essential role as messengers and intermediaries from Allah to the world, beginning with the angel Jabrai'il (Gabriel) who revealed the Qur’an, Islam's holy book, to the Prophet Muhammad.
Form:
Angels do not have a real physical shape. Though at certain times angels may materialize in different forms in dreams or visions, their true form is incomprehensible to humans.
Intervention:
Every person has two guardian angels in their lives. Guardian angels watch and record everything people do.
Important angels:
The most important of these messengers was the angel Gabriel, or Jabra'il, who Muslims believe revealed the Qur'an from Allah to Muhammad. The other Islamic archangels are Mika'il (Michael), who patrols the Israelites, Israfil, who will sound the trumpet on the last day, and Izra'il, who is the angel of death. Munkar and Nakir are two other angels who visit graves and test the faith of the recently deceased. Shaitan, the Muslim equivalent of the devil, is also important in Islam. Also called Iblis, Shaitan is the source of evil in the world. He is not considered an angel, but instead is a member of the jinn, invisible spirit beings who can be good or bad. Shaitan tempts humans are tries to mislead them.
Judaism
Angel basics:
Angels in Judaism, or malachim, are messengers of God who help carry out God's work and plans. For a complete explanation of the role of angels in Judaism, see this column on angels in Jewish tradition.
Form:
Angels are purely spiritual beings who do not have a physical form. Biblical angels do take on physical form, though Maimonides, the great Jewish sage and biblical commentator, later wrote that physical descriptions of angels were metaphorical.
Intervention:
Angels intervene in stories in the Torah (the first five books of the Bible) as God's messengers, such as when an angel stops Abraham from sacrificing his son Isaac. There is also the famous story of Jacob wrestling with an angel. But in general, angels initiate the communication from God, not vice-versa. There is no angel worship in Judaism, and Jews believe that it is only God who determines what happens on earth—angels merely carry out God's will.
Important angels:
Traditionally, Micha'el is a guardian of the people Israel. He carries out God's mission of kindness. Gabriel is the angel of judgment and strength. Uriel is an angel who illumines the right path. Raphael is a healer.
Mormonism:
Angel basics:
Angels are described in the Doctrine and Covenant as being one of the two kinds of bodies in heaven. They are described as "resurrected personages." They are considered by Mormons to be messengers of God and "ministering spirits."
Form:
Angels are either ministering spirits or more evolved human beings who have flesh and bone.
Intervention:
Latter-day Saints believe that angels can appear to people in a very literal sense, but not necessarily that each person has a specifically assigned guardian angel. Angels serve to advance the work of the Lord through giving instruction or authority for specific tasks, as was the case with the founding of the Mormon religion. Angels can also impart comfort, warning, protection, or knowledge but never in a way that interferes with human free will. Mormons believe that "the whispering of the Holy Ghost" is a more common and ultimately more effective way in which God communicates with individuals.
Important angels:
Mormons believe that their founding prophet, Joseph Smith, was visited by the angel Moroni who led him to the Book of Mormon. (Moroni was once human, the son of the prophet Mormon, who became an angel after he died.) A golden statue of Moroni sits atop most Mormon temples.
Protestant Christianity
Angel basics:
Angels are messengers and carry out God's will. Some angels are guardian angels. John Calvin viewed angels as protectors and helpers. Angels are recognized as very powerful beings. The gospels are full of examples of the angels intervening with Jesus, as announcers of his birth, ministers to him in the wilderness, and more.
Form:
Angels are created as spirit beings—not as humans. They can take on a corporeal form if doing so will help them do their work on earth. They are genderless and invisible.
Intervention:
They provide guidance and assurance to believers. Guardian angels help protect people from harm. Not all angels are good, however.
Important angels:
All biblical angels are important. Most Protestant theologians, however, warn against the Catholic practice of praying to angels (which they viewed as angel worship) and the angel hierarchy of Catholicism because these traditions were not biblical and were seen as having pagan roots. Christianity also teaches that Lucifer, the devil, was a fallen angel who rebelled against God and was kicked out of heaven.
Carry Me Home
John and Rhonda were sleeping soundly in their bed, but their 2-year-old daughter Kellie wasn't in hers.
By Joan Wester Anderson
Many people ask their angels for help during difficult moments. But sometimes angels act when we aren’t expecting it at all. Several years ago, while living in Mobile, Alabama, Rhonda and John Christie tucked their two-year-old daughter, Kellie, into bed, and checked her again before they went to sleep. Hours later, both were awakened by the insistent ringing of the doorbell.
John bolted out of bed. “Who could that be?” he muttered, glancing at the clock. It was almost 2 a.m. Curious and concerned, Rhonda followed him to the front door, watching as he flung it open. A young man in cut-off jeans and a white t-shirt stood there, a bike propped behind him. In his arms was their pajama-clad daughter, holding her favorite doll and, incredibly, her little red rocking chair. Kellie had been sleeping soundly the last time they’d checked. How had she ended up outside in the arms of a stranger?
“I think I must have freaked out for a moment,” Rhonda recalls. “I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.”
John was equally shocked. “Where did you get our daughter?” he demanded, grabbing the two-year-old our of the young man’s arms.
“I found her walking down Main Street, carrying her doll and that little chair,” the stranger answered calmly. “She must have gotten out of your house somehow.”
Rhonda gasped. Main Street was almost two miles from their home, a very busy and dangerous area. Kellie could have been hit by a car or injured, or worse. Rhonda couldn’t bear to think about it.
She looked more closely at the young man. He was beautiful, she realized, with blond curly hair and eyes full of wisdom, eyes that seemed to look right into her soul.
John wanted more details. He turned and placed Kellie in Rhonda’s arms. But when they turned around to question the stranger, he was gone. So was the bicycle. “Our street was long and straight, and we should have heard or seen him riding away on his bike,” Rhonda says. “But although we went outside, we saw no trace of him.” Kellie’s rescuer had simply vanished.
Rhonda and John discovered an unlocked back door, where Kelly had surely gotten out. They spent the remainder of the night giving thanks to God for bringing their toddler safely home. It was only later that another question emerged: Kellie was too little to tell anyone her specific address. How had the young man known where to bring her?
“It was only a moment’s encounter, but it left its mark on our family,” Rhonda says. “I know that angels are real.”
John and Rhonda were sleeping soundly in their bed, but their 2-year-old daughter Kellie wasn't in hers.
By Joan Wester Anderson
Many people ask their angels for help during difficult moments. But sometimes angels act when we aren’t expecting it at all. Several years ago, while living in Mobile, Alabama, Rhonda and John Christie tucked their two-year-old daughter, Kellie, into bed, and checked her again before they went to sleep. Hours later, both were awakened by the insistent ringing of the doorbell.
John bolted out of bed. “Who could that be?” he muttered, glancing at the clock. It was almost 2 a.m. Curious and concerned, Rhonda followed him to the front door, watching as he flung it open. A young man in cut-off jeans and a white t-shirt stood there, a bike propped behind him. In his arms was their pajama-clad daughter, holding her favorite doll and, incredibly, her little red rocking chair. Kellie had been sleeping soundly the last time they’d checked. How had she ended up outside in the arms of a stranger?
“I think I must have freaked out for a moment,” Rhonda recalls. “I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.”
John was equally shocked. “Where did you get our daughter?” he demanded, grabbing the two-year-old our of the young man’s arms.
“I found her walking down Main Street, carrying her doll and that little chair,” the stranger answered calmly. “She must have gotten out of your house somehow.”
Rhonda gasped. Main Street was almost two miles from their home, a very busy and dangerous area. Kellie could have been hit by a car or injured, or worse. Rhonda couldn’t bear to think about it.
She looked more closely at the young man. He was beautiful, she realized, with blond curly hair and eyes full of wisdom, eyes that seemed to look right into her soul.
John wanted more details. He turned and placed Kellie in Rhonda’s arms. But when they turned around to question the stranger, he was gone. So was the bicycle. “Our street was long and straight, and we should have heard or seen him riding away on his bike,” Rhonda says. “But although we went outside, we saw no trace of him.” Kellie’s rescuer had simply vanished.
Rhonda and John discovered an unlocked back door, where Kelly had surely gotten out. They spent the remainder of the night giving thanks to God for bringing their toddler safely home. It was only later that another question emerged: Kellie was too little to tell anyone her specific address. How had the young man known where to bring her?
“It was only a moment’s encounter, but it left its mark on our family,” Rhonda says. “I know that angels are real.”
Angels on the Job
How can the angel archetype play a role in your workplace?
By David Rottman
The traffic is terrible and you’re running late for an important business meeting. At last you arrive, hang up your coat, and open the door to the conference room. You slide into an empty seat and look around. You can’t help noticing that there is tension hovering in the air. No one pays any attention to you. Then one person looks at you meaningfully; the others seem unusually preoccupied with their pad and pencil. The discussion is definitely constrained. No one is really saying what’s on his or her mind. The chair of the meeting now turns to you and asks you to present your new idea. What’s the best strategy? Ask the angel of the moment.
The concept of the angel can be enormously helpful to us, particularly in our careers, if we can catch the drift of its meaning in a new and creative way.
When we examine the role of the angel in ancient literature, it becomes clear that the angel is only secondarily a messenger. First and foremost, angels preside over a situation. They hover over a particular moment, over a particular problem.
In modern terms, the concept of the angel can best be compared to the idea of the force field. Magnets, for example, exert a force that attracts iron filings from a distance. Within the field of force, the magnet arranges the filings in an order that can be described and even predicted.
In the language of analytical psychology, an angel is an "archetypal" image for a force field that has a specific character and operates independently of our own conscious field. By understanding the nature of such independent "angelic" fields, we can interact creatively with them to transform situations in often remarkable ways.
Let’s consider as an example the Angel of the Furnace from the Book of Daniel in the Old Testament. The story begins as everyone is ordered by King Nebuchadnezzar to fall down and worship an immense gold statue. Certain nasty slanderers are out to get Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego, who, as faithful Jews, are not going to worship the statue. When the king hears of their intransigence, he goes into a raging fury and orders them thrown, bound, into the furnace at seven times its usual heat.
The furnace is so hot that its flames kill the men who throw in the three Jews. But Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego aren’t harmed. When King Nebuchadnezzar peers into the furnace, he sees four men walking about "and the fourth looks like a divine being." The king is amazed that the men come out of the fire without a hair on their head disturbed. The king concludes, "Blessed be the God of Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego, who sent His angel to save His servants, who trusting in him, flouted the king’s decree at the risk of their lives rather than serve or worship any god but their own God" (Daniel 3:28). The issues hovering over this situation/force field are idolatry, fear, rage, and betrayal of one’s own highest values. The Angel of the Furnace protects those who are not caught in such issues, those who can withstand their own fear and rage. We can see the great wisdom of this story, if understood at the archetypal image or symbolic level.
Our emotions are like a red-hot furnace when our beliefs are at stake. Those who are not burned up by those disabling emotions are able to see alternatives and creative solutions. Such differentiated responses free us to walk around unbound and unconsumed by fiery emotions that can destroy our best intentions, our own highest values.
Now, how do we apply this to the world of careers? Idolatry in the workplace would be a particularly apt term for the invitations to fear and anger that arise from power struggles in the workplace. Few people say they want to exercise naked power over others. Instead, the furnace forces of fear ("Is he trying to take over my job?") and anger ("She’s got a lot of nerve leaving me off the distribution list.") are what lead us to act against ourselves and others.
As for the angel hovering over the meeting? First, if we recognize that our own fear is likely to be drawn into the force field, we can be prepared. Perhaps a lighthearted comment or a joke will disarm the moment.
Second, we should look for new and creative opportunities to change this angelic force field, based on our heightened awareness. Often at such a moment, it is appropriate to put away for a moment our (cherished) presentation. We can often get what we want from an uncooperative group by reminding that group of its highest values, for example, cohesiveness and teamwork. "Before I make my presentation, I’d like to invoke the spirit of what we accomplished together in the past. Here’s what I am grateful for in your contributions." With this approach, we are re-creating the experience for the others of walking in the furnace with the angel. Having accomplished the repair work of this task, the angel of the moment will allow us to proceed unscathed.
How can the angel archetype play a role in your workplace?
By David Rottman
The traffic is terrible and you’re running late for an important business meeting. At last you arrive, hang up your coat, and open the door to the conference room. You slide into an empty seat and look around. You can’t help noticing that there is tension hovering in the air. No one pays any attention to you. Then one person looks at you meaningfully; the others seem unusually preoccupied with their pad and pencil. The discussion is definitely constrained. No one is really saying what’s on his or her mind. The chair of the meeting now turns to you and asks you to present your new idea. What’s the best strategy? Ask the angel of the moment.
The concept of the angel can be enormously helpful to us, particularly in our careers, if we can catch the drift of its meaning in a new and creative way.
When we examine the role of the angel in ancient literature, it becomes clear that the angel is only secondarily a messenger. First and foremost, angels preside over a situation. They hover over a particular moment, over a particular problem.
In modern terms, the concept of the angel can best be compared to the idea of the force field. Magnets, for example, exert a force that attracts iron filings from a distance. Within the field of force, the magnet arranges the filings in an order that can be described and even predicted.
In the language of analytical psychology, an angel is an "archetypal" image for a force field that has a specific character and operates independently of our own conscious field. By understanding the nature of such independent "angelic" fields, we can interact creatively with them to transform situations in often remarkable ways.
Let’s consider as an example the Angel of the Furnace from the Book of Daniel in the Old Testament. The story begins as everyone is ordered by King Nebuchadnezzar to fall down and worship an immense gold statue. Certain nasty slanderers are out to get Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego, who, as faithful Jews, are not going to worship the statue. When the king hears of their intransigence, he goes into a raging fury and orders them thrown, bound, into the furnace at seven times its usual heat.
The furnace is so hot that its flames kill the men who throw in the three Jews. But Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego aren’t harmed. When King Nebuchadnezzar peers into the furnace, he sees four men walking about "and the fourth looks like a divine being." The king is amazed that the men come out of the fire without a hair on their head disturbed. The king concludes, "Blessed be the God of Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego, who sent His angel to save His servants, who trusting in him, flouted the king’s decree at the risk of their lives rather than serve or worship any god but their own God" (Daniel 3:28). The issues hovering over this situation/force field are idolatry, fear, rage, and betrayal of one’s own highest values. The Angel of the Furnace protects those who are not caught in such issues, those who can withstand their own fear and rage. We can see the great wisdom of this story, if understood at the archetypal image or symbolic level.
Our emotions are like a red-hot furnace when our beliefs are at stake. Those who are not burned up by those disabling emotions are able to see alternatives and creative solutions. Such differentiated responses free us to walk around unbound and unconsumed by fiery emotions that can destroy our best intentions, our own highest values.
Now, how do we apply this to the world of careers? Idolatry in the workplace would be a particularly apt term for the invitations to fear and anger that arise from power struggles in the workplace. Few people say they want to exercise naked power over others. Instead, the furnace forces of fear ("Is he trying to take over my job?") and anger ("She’s got a lot of nerve leaving me off the distribution list.") are what lead us to act against ourselves and others.
As for the angel hovering over the meeting? First, if we recognize that our own fear is likely to be drawn into the force field, we can be prepared. Perhaps a lighthearted comment or a joke will disarm the moment.
Second, we should look for new and creative opportunities to change this angelic force field, based on our heightened awareness. Often at such a moment, it is appropriate to put away for a moment our (cherished) presentation. We can often get what we want from an uncooperative group by reminding that group of its highest values, for example, cohesiveness and teamwork. "Before I make my presentation, I’d like to invoke the spirit of what we accomplished together in the past. Here’s what I am grateful for in your contributions." With this approach, we are re-creating the experience for the others of walking in the furnace with the angel. Having accomplished the repair work of this task, the angel of the moment will allow us to proceed unscathed.
Invoke Your Healer Guides
Find emotional and physical healing by opening your heart to spirit guides.
By Sonia Choquette
Reprinted from 'Ask Your Guides' by Sonia Choquette, with permission of Hay House.
The highest purpose of your healer guides is to restore your self-awareness and self-esteem as children of God and help you accept the love and unlimited blessings that God grants you. Opening your heart and mind to your worthiness is the best healing of all. This is evident in my client Julie’s experience. This 37-year-old woman had just emerged from an acrimonious five-year divorce battle in which she lost her home and the custody of her two sons. No sooner had the ink dried on the divorce decree when she was dealt another devastating blow: Discovering a lump in her right breast, she was diagnosed with stage-4 breast cancer and given a bleak prognosis, with little chance for survival. Still reeling from the toll of her familial troubles, this was almost too much to bear. Pulling herself together, she immediately began aggressive treatment, including a double mastectomy, radiation, and chemotherapy—but not only did her treatment leave her broken and sick, it wiped out her will to live as well.
One night as Julie lay drained from nausea and grief, she decided that it wasn’t worth trying to live, and she gave up. She’d lost her body as she knew it, her boys, her home—even her identity as a wife and mother—and felt that there was nothing left. Despairing, all she wanted to do was die.
When she eventually fell asleep, she dreamed that she was surrounded by ten beautiful women of all ages, who were gently singing lullabies, combing her hair, and rubbing her feet and toes as if she were the most precious child on Earth. Starting to cry, she asked why they were being so good to her.
The eldest one smiled and said that they’d come to help her heal and begin to enjoy her life. Julie responded that she had nothing to live for and that she was a complete failure, but the woman simply smiled again and kept combing her hair and singing with the rest.
Allowing herself to enjoy their loving care, Julie began to relax on a profound level—deeper, in fact, than she’d ever felt in her life...and the next thing she knew, it was morning. It seemed as if all that remained of the dream was a warm sensation in her chest, yet there was something else. Remarkably, she felt peaceful and wanted very much to live. It was as if those women had lifted the weight of her grief. Not looking back or feeling ashamed anymore, Julie dove into her healing with a vengeance. She changed her diet, joined a support group, got a therapist and a coach. Two years later, she was proclaimed cancer free, and that was seven years ago. "Those women worked a miracle on me," she told me.
"They were your healers," I answered, “and they did. They opened the door for you to love yourself, and that is what healed your body."
Find emotional and physical healing by opening your heart to spirit guides.
By Sonia Choquette
Reprinted from 'Ask Your Guides' by Sonia Choquette, with permission of Hay House.
The highest purpose of your healer guides is to restore your self-awareness and self-esteem as children of God and help you accept the love and unlimited blessings that God grants you. Opening your heart and mind to your worthiness is the best healing of all. This is evident in my client Julie’s experience. This 37-year-old woman had just emerged from an acrimonious five-year divorce battle in which she lost her home and the custody of her two sons. No sooner had the ink dried on the divorce decree when she was dealt another devastating blow: Discovering a lump in her right breast, she was diagnosed with stage-4 breast cancer and given a bleak prognosis, with little chance for survival. Still reeling from the toll of her familial troubles, this was almost too much to bear. Pulling herself together, she immediately began aggressive treatment, including a double mastectomy, radiation, and chemotherapy—but not only did her treatment leave her broken and sick, it wiped out her will to live as well.
One night as Julie lay drained from nausea and grief, she decided that it wasn’t worth trying to live, and she gave up. She’d lost her body as she knew it, her boys, her home—even her identity as a wife and mother—and felt that there was nothing left. Despairing, all she wanted to do was die.
When she eventually fell asleep, she dreamed that she was surrounded by ten beautiful women of all ages, who were gently singing lullabies, combing her hair, and rubbing her feet and toes as if she were the most precious child on Earth. Starting to cry, she asked why they were being so good to her.
The eldest one smiled and said that they’d come to help her heal and begin to enjoy her life. Julie responded that she had nothing to live for and that she was a complete failure, but the woman simply smiled again and kept combing her hair and singing with the rest.
Allowing herself to enjoy their loving care, Julie began to relax on a profound level—deeper, in fact, than she’d ever felt in her life...and the next thing she knew, it was morning. It seemed as if all that remained of the dream was a warm sensation in her chest, yet there was something else. Remarkably, she felt peaceful and wanted very much to live. It was as if those women had lifted the weight of her grief. Not looking back or feeling ashamed anymore, Julie dove into her healing with a vengeance. She changed her diet, joined a support group, got a therapist and a coach. Two years later, she was proclaimed cancer free, and that was seven years ago. "Those women worked a miracle on me," she told me.
"They were your healers," I answered, “and they did. They opened the door for you to love yourself, and that is what healed your body."
Angel on Patrol
A mother-to-be gets a distinct warning:
Slow down!
Reprinted with permission of Joan Wester Anderson, from her website.
Kathleen Hauk, of Barrington, Illinois, was delighted when she discovered she and her husband were going to be parents. But the news didn’t slow her down. "In winter, 1999, I became vice president of marketing for a new website, and the job was very stressful," she says. "Even though I was five months along at that point, I couldn’t slow down."
On the way home one frigid evening, Kathleen was driving on a six-lane highway, well over the speed limit, and so distracted by thoughts of work that she didn’t notice the police car behind her--until he turned on his lights. Surprised and embarrassed, Kathleen pulled left, onto the median strip.
The officer walked over to her car as traffic whizzed past. "License and registration," he said curtly. Meekly, Kathleen surrendered the papers. She had been wrong, and she knew it. If only life wasn’t so hectic.
The officer looked at the papers, then at her. "I’m not going to write you a ticket," he said. "I want to save you the embarrassment of standing in front of a judge in your condition to explain why you were speeding, and risking both your life, and the life of your baby!" Instead, he handed her a warning.
He was right, Kathleen knew. That’s exactly what she had been doing. Somehow she had forgotten what was really important in life. Before she could apologize, the officer leaned in the window again. "Stay here until I tell you it’s safe to pull back into traffic," he told her, then turned and walked back to his car.
Kathleen nodded, took a few deep breaths, then looked in her rear view for his signal. But how odd! There was nothing behind her now, no traffic on this heavily traveled road, and no squad car. How could he have disappeared so quickly, without signaling her into the traffic flow as he’d said he would do? Slowly, Kathleen pulled back onto the road and drove home.
Only later did she realize that the officer couldn’t have known that she was pregnant--it was dark and she wore a heavy coat... Nor was there a name or a badge number written on the warning ticket, just a caution against unsafe driving. "Gradually I began to suspect that this police officer was my baby’s guardian angel, sent to remind me that no matter how busy I am or will be, my child must always come first," she says.
Since then, Kathleen takes time to smell the roses. For her and her family, each day is a gift.
http://www.beliefnet.org/story/97/story_9723_1.html
A mother-to-be gets a distinct warning:
Slow down!
Reprinted with permission of Joan Wester Anderson, from her website.
Kathleen Hauk, of Barrington, Illinois, was delighted when she discovered she and her husband were going to be parents. But the news didn’t slow her down. "In winter, 1999, I became vice president of marketing for a new website, and the job was very stressful," she says. "Even though I was five months along at that point, I couldn’t slow down."
On the way home one frigid evening, Kathleen was driving on a six-lane highway, well over the speed limit, and so distracted by thoughts of work that she didn’t notice the police car behind her--until he turned on his lights. Surprised and embarrassed, Kathleen pulled left, onto the median strip.
The officer walked over to her car as traffic whizzed past. "License and registration," he said curtly. Meekly, Kathleen surrendered the papers. She had been wrong, and she knew it. If only life wasn’t so hectic.
The officer looked at the papers, then at her. "I’m not going to write you a ticket," he said. "I want to save you the embarrassment of standing in front of a judge in your condition to explain why you were speeding, and risking both your life, and the life of your baby!" Instead, he handed her a warning.
He was right, Kathleen knew. That’s exactly what she had been doing. Somehow she had forgotten what was really important in life. Before she could apologize, the officer leaned in the window again. "Stay here until I tell you it’s safe to pull back into traffic," he told her, then turned and walked back to his car.
Kathleen nodded, took a few deep breaths, then looked in her rear view for his signal. But how odd! There was nothing behind her now, no traffic on this heavily traveled road, and no squad car. How could he have disappeared so quickly, without signaling her into the traffic flow as he’d said he would do? Slowly, Kathleen pulled back onto the road and drove home.
Only later did she realize that the officer couldn’t have known that she was pregnant--it was dark and she wore a heavy coat... Nor was there a name or a badge number written on the warning ticket, just a caution against unsafe driving. "Gradually I began to suspect that this police officer was my baby’s guardian angel, sent to remind me that no matter how busy I am or will be, my child must always come first," she says.
Since then, Kathleen takes time to smell the roses. For her and her family, each day is a gift.
http://www.beliefnet.org/story/97/story_9723_1.html
The Mottled Dog of Hamlin
What if the burglar came to our house while Daddy was gone? What if he got me?
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/28/story ... mc_id=NL24
Reprinted with permission from Guideposts.
My daddy, Joe Norton, was a traveling preacher. Back in the '40s, when we didn’t have a car, he rode buses all over, bringing the Word of God to towns that were too small and too poor to have their own preachers. The five of us—Daddy, Mama, my big brothers John and Bobby, and me—lived in a tiny town ourselves, out by the oil fields of West Texas. Hamlin was the kind of place where folks didn’t even have locks on their doors, they trusted each other so much. When Daddy had to be away for a week or two at a stretch, he could rest assured we were safe at home. I couldn’t, though. I had a hard time getting to sleep when he was gone. Usually, the boys had the bunk beds in the kitchen across from the back door. But Mama knew how anxious I got when Daddy wasn’t around. She would put the boys in the bedroom, then give me the top bunk and take the bottom one herself so I’d feel more secure. I’d climb into bed with my favorite doll, Trudy, whose expression changed when you turned her head. I made sure Trudy’s sleeping face was showing, but then I would lie awake myself, my mind awhirl with all the scary things that might happen without Daddy around. "He says God always takes care of us, Trudy," I’d whisper to my doll. "Well, I sure do hope it’s true."
The summer I was 9, I hoped more fervently than ever, because something terrible happened, something no one in Hamlin could remember ever happening before. A burglar was on the loose—a stranger going around breaking into houses, stealing things, and hurting people who got in his way. What if the burglar came to our house while Daddy was gone? What if he got me?
Daddy didn’t want to leave us. Still, he had made a commitment to folks out of town, and we knew he couldn’t go back on his word. So one July day when the sun looked like a fat egg yolk in the sky, we went to the bus station to see him off. Daddy asked us kids to mind Mama, then we held hands and prayed. Just before he got on the bus, Daddy opened his Bible and gave us a short reading from Psalms, his voice more serious than a month of Sundays: “The angel of the Lord encampeth round them that fear him, and delivereth them.”
I repeated that verse to myself as we shaded our eyes and watched the bus pull away.
Coming up our walk back home, I heard Bobby holler, “Look at that dog!” I followed his pointing finger to our front porch, where a huge, mottled creature was sprawled at the top of the steps, taking an afternoon snooze. John whistled. “Never seen anything like him!”
None of us had. Hamlin was such a small town, we knew everyone, even the dogs, and this one was definitely a stranger to these parts.
The dog lifted his massive head, half-perking one ear, and surveyed us lazily, as if we were on his porch.
“He sure is ugly,” John said, noting his gold fur covered with black spots.
“Go away, dog!” Mama commanded. “Scat!”
The dog didn’t budge. He just stared at us with black eyes as shiny as marbles. Sighing, Mama stepped over him, turned, and lifted me across his bulk.
Creeeak. Mama opened the screen door. “Just leave him be,” she said. “Soon as he figures out we can’t feed him, he’ll go away.”
But he didn’t. That night, I checked outside before I went to bed, and he was lying on the front porch in the same spot. He stayed there for several days straight. I never once saw him leave the porch.
Before we knew it, Mama was telling us, “Daddy’s due back tomorrow.” That evening, the crinkles in Mama’s forehead smoothed out, and she smiled a lot during dinner.
It got dark out, and I climbed up the ladder into my bunk with my Trudy doll and turned her head so she was sleeping.
“Night, Mama,” I said, swinging my hand over the side of the bed.
Mama reached up and squeezed my hand. “Night, Libby. Sleep tight.”
The light from the alley behind our house shone into the room and hit the blades of the floor fan, making some strange, shifting silhouettes on the wall. I yanked the covers up so no one could see me. Daddy, I wish you were here.
Creeeak. What was that? It sounded like the screen door that led to our back porch! I peeked over the edge of my covers. A looming shadow moved across the wall as the kitchen door eased open.
“Mama!” I hissed, my heart thumping so loud I was sure the burglar could hear.
“Shh!” she said, “I see him!”
I closed my eyes tight, not wanting to witness what the burglar would do to us. “God, please help us!” I whispered, hugging Trudy against me.
At that moment, I heard a sharp bark.
The door snapped shut. Then a low, menacing growl. Closer and closer it came. Suddenly, it stopped.
I couldn’t stand it anymore. I opened my eyes and turned toward the door. Mama leaped out of bed and grabbed a knife from the kitchen drawer. I cringed as she opened the kitchen door.
Only there was no burglar out back any longer. Just the dog. The extra-large, funny-looking, black-and-gold dog that had camped out on our front porch and refused to move for anything, except… Except he’d run all the way around back and leaped the fence to protect us from the intruder. Now the dog was sitting there at our back door, facing us calmly, as if nothing had happened.
Mama gave him a pat on the head and closed the door. She put the knife away and got into bed. “The dog is keeping watch, Libby, so we’re safe. Go to sleep.”
And that is what I did.
I woke to sun shining in my eyes. Daddy’s coming home! I turned Trudy’s head so she was smiling and climbed down the ladder. Hearing a noise from the front porch, I peeked outside. Mama was out there talking to the dog, who had returned to his usual spot. She’d given him a bowl of water and fixed some biscuits and gravy for him.
Three o’clock that afternoon, we went to the bus station to meet Daddy. As soon as he stepped off the bus, I ran to him.
“Hi, girl!” Daddy said, whirling me around in his arms. “I missed you!” “I missed you, too,” I said. “You gotta see our new dog! He saved us from the burglar!”
But when we came up to our house, the dog wasn’t on the porch. He wasn’t out back. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
I thought the dog might turn up the next time Daddy went away, but he never visited our house again. I guess he didn’t have to, because by that point I’d learned that even though Daddy couldn’t be there every second to protect us, the God he preached about always was, standing guard with his angels, who come in all shapes and sizes and colors.
What if the burglar came to our house while Daddy was gone? What if he got me?
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/28/story ... mc_id=NL24
Reprinted with permission from Guideposts.
My daddy, Joe Norton, was a traveling preacher. Back in the '40s, when we didn’t have a car, he rode buses all over, bringing the Word of God to towns that were too small and too poor to have their own preachers. The five of us—Daddy, Mama, my big brothers John and Bobby, and me—lived in a tiny town ourselves, out by the oil fields of West Texas. Hamlin was the kind of place where folks didn’t even have locks on their doors, they trusted each other so much. When Daddy had to be away for a week or two at a stretch, he could rest assured we were safe at home. I couldn’t, though. I had a hard time getting to sleep when he was gone. Usually, the boys had the bunk beds in the kitchen across from the back door. But Mama knew how anxious I got when Daddy wasn’t around. She would put the boys in the bedroom, then give me the top bunk and take the bottom one herself so I’d feel more secure. I’d climb into bed with my favorite doll, Trudy, whose expression changed when you turned her head. I made sure Trudy’s sleeping face was showing, but then I would lie awake myself, my mind awhirl with all the scary things that might happen without Daddy around. "He says God always takes care of us, Trudy," I’d whisper to my doll. "Well, I sure do hope it’s true."
The summer I was 9, I hoped more fervently than ever, because something terrible happened, something no one in Hamlin could remember ever happening before. A burglar was on the loose—a stranger going around breaking into houses, stealing things, and hurting people who got in his way. What if the burglar came to our house while Daddy was gone? What if he got me?
Daddy didn’t want to leave us. Still, he had made a commitment to folks out of town, and we knew he couldn’t go back on his word. So one July day when the sun looked like a fat egg yolk in the sky, we went to the bus station to see him off. Daddy asked us kids to mind Mama, then we held hands and prayed. Just before he got on the bus, Daddy opened his Bible and gave us a short reading from Psalms, his voice more serious than a month of Sundays: “The angel of the Lord encampeth round them that fear him, and delivereth them.”
I repeated that verse to myself as we shaded our eyes and watched the bus pull away.
Coming up our walk back home, I heard Bobby holler, “Look at that dog!” I followed his pointing finger to our front porch, where a huge, mottled creature was sprawled at the top of the steps, taking an afternoon snooze. John whistled. “Never seen anything like him!”
None of us had. Hamlin was such a small town, we knew everyone, even the dogs, and this one was definitely a stranger to these parts.
The dog lifted his massive head, half-perking one ear, and surveyed us lazily, as if we were on his porch.
“He sure is ugly,” John said, noting his gold fur covered with black spots.
“Go away, dog!” Mama commanded. “Scat!”
The dog didn’t budge. He just stared at us with black eyes as shiny as marbles. Sighing, Mama stepped over him, turned, and lifted me across his bulk.
Creeeak. Mama opened the screen door. “Just leave him be,” she said. “Soon as he figures out we can’t feed him, he’ll go away.”
But he didn’t. That night, I checked outside before I went to bed, and he was lying on the front porch in the same spot. He stayed there for several days straight. I never once saw him leave the porch.
Before we knew it, Mama was telling us, “Daddy’s due back tomorrow.” That evening, the crinkles in Mama’s forehead smoothed out, and she smiled a lot during dinner.
It got dark out, and I climbed up the ladder into my bunk with my Trudy doll and turned her head so she was sleeping.
“Night, Mama,” I said, swinging my hand over the side of the bed.
Mama reached up and squeezed my hand. “Night, Libby. Sleep tight.”
The light from the alley behind our house shone into the room and hit the blades of the floor fan, making some strange, shifting silhouettes on the wall. I yanked the covers up so no one could see me. Daddy, I wish you were here.
Creeeak. What was that? It sounded like the screen door that led to our back porch! I peeked over the edge of my covers. A looming shadow moved across the wall as the kitchen door eased open.
“Mama!” I hissed, my heart thumping so loud I was sure the burglar could hear.
“Shh!” she said, “I see him!”
I closed my eyes tight, not wanting to witness what the burglar would do to us. “God, please help us!” I whispered, hugging Trudy against me.
At that moment, I heard a sharp bark.
The door snapped shut. Then a low, menacing growl. Closer and closer it came. Suddenly, it stopped.
I couldn’t stand it anymore. I opened my eyes and turned toward the door. Mama leaped out of bed and grabbed a knife from the kitchen drawer. I cringed as she opened the kitchen door.
Only there was no burglar out back any longer. Just the dog. The extra-large, funny-looking, black-and-gold dog that had camped out on our front porch and refused to move for anything, except… Except he’d run all the way around back and leaped the fence to protect us from the intruder. Now the dog was sitting there at our back door, facing us calmly, as if nothing had happened.
Mama gave him a pat on the head and closed the door. She put the knife away and got into bed. “The dog is keeping watch, Libby, so we’re safe. Go to sleep.”
And that is what I did.
I woke to sun shining in my eyes. Daddy’s coming home! I turned Trudy’s head so she was smiling and climbed down the ladder. Hearing a noise from the front porch, I peeked outside. Mama was out there talking to the dog, who had returned to his usual spot. She’d given him a bowl of water and fixed some biscuits and gravy for him.
Three o’clock that afternoon, we went to the bus station to meet Daddy. As soon as he stepped off the bus, I ran to him.
“Hi, girl!” Daddy said, whirling me around in his arms. “I missed you!” “I missed you, too,” I said. “You gotta see our new dog! He saved us from the burglar!”
But when we came up to our house, the dog wasn’t on the porch. He wasn’t out back. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
I thought the dog might turn up the next time Daddy went away, but he never visited our house again. I guess he didn’t have to, because by that point I’d learned that even though Daddy couldn’t be there every second to protect us, the God he preached about always was, standing guard with his angels, who come in all shapes and sizes and colors.
You've Got to Have Faith
As I battled life-threatening complications from surgery, two glowing beings appeared in my room to comfort me.
By Melissa Mardueno
I had just found out I was pregnant—I was about six weeks along—when I fell and broke my leg. In the hospital, I was set to have a spinal anesthesia so the surgeon could repair the break with a plate and screws. The doctors tried for one hour to insert the spinal, but the needle would not go in. My blood pressure was getting dangerously high from the pain, so the doctors finally gave me general anesthesia. I was told I could lose the baby or it would be born with birth defects because I was put under. After I woke up from surgery—still pregnant—I was put into a cast.
About three weeks later, I noticed that my toes were very swollen and purple. I called the doctor, but he insisted there was nothing wrong. The next day I called again and told the doctor I thought I had a blood clot. He sent me in for an ultrasound to calm my fears. Since I still had a cast on my leg, the ultrasound technicians could only look behind my knee. My doctor declared me free of blood clots. Afterwards I continued to have a lot of swelling, so I called the doctor and asked if the cast could be removed. He agreed and put me in a walking boot with firm instructions not to walk on that leg, since it wasn't yet healed.
Two days later when I tried to get out of my wheelchair and into bed, I had difficulty catching my breath. I thought maybe I was just out of shape, but my husband was so concerned that he took me to the hospital.
All of the tests came back normal, but the doctor in the ER said she was going to give me a CT scan "for malpractice purposes only."
About ten minutes later, I heard everyone in the ER running around. The doctor, looking pale, opened the curtain surrounding my hospital bed. I saw a nurse standing behind her with a bag of Heparin, a medicine used to thin the blood and prevent blood clots.
She told me that I had an extensive bilateral pulmonary embolism. I started to cry, terrified that I was going to die. Not only were my lungs filled with blood clots, but there was a huge clot left in my leg that the previous ultrasound had not shown. The doctor replied, "We are going to do the best we can for you."
I was in the ICU for two days when a doctor told me I was going to die. He advised me to plan my funeral and write letters to my kids to open on their special days after I passed.
As I lay in bed reeling from the news, I saw something incredible. Two angels appeared in my room. They looked like white beams of light—I couldn't see their faces clearly, but I could see their arms and heads in a glowing robes. At first I thought I was seeing things, but I know I was not. I couldn't tell if they were watching over me or were there to "take me home." Just then I got a call from one of my clients (I am an interior designer). When I picked up the phone, she told me she had a message for me from God. She said that God wanted me to have faith in him and surrender my life to him. She also said that my baby and I were going to be just fine, and that my son was sent to do God's work. I was in shock. I had not told any of my clients that I was sick—or pregnant. How did she know I was in the hospital? My husband hadn't told anyone I was there.
I turned off my phone and cried. I read the Bible with new conviction and prayed the whole day. I found faith.
The next day I requested another ultrasound on my leg to look at the blood clot. I had faith that God had healed me. It took three ultrasound technicians to find the clot—it had shrunk overnight! Although the clots in my lungs were still there, they were not life-threatening and would continue to be treated with medicine.
Four days later I was released. The doctor called it a miracle. I proceeded to have a full-term pregnancy. During the delivery I had to have a C-section, which was extremely dangerous considering I was on blood thinners, and I was told that I could bleed to death during surgery. But I still kept my faith in God and did not lose an ounce of blood.
Today, almost one year later, I am well and free of any blood clots, and the proud mother of a happy, healthy baby boy. Having faith, believing in prayer, and giving my life to God was all God wanted.
As I battled life-threatening complications from surgery, two glowing beings appeared in my room to comfort me.
By Melissa Mardueno
I had just found out I was pregnant—I was about six weeks along—when I fell and broke my leg. In the hospital, I was set to have a spinal anesthesia so the surgeon could repair the break with a plate and screws. The doctors tried for one hour to insert the spinal, but the needle would not go in. My blood pressure was getting dangerously high from the pain, so the doctors finally gave me general anesthesia. I was told I could lose the baby or it would be born with birth defects because I was put under. After I woke up from surgery—still pregnant—I was put into a cast.
About three weeks later, I noticed that my toes were very swollen and purple. I called the doctor, but he insisted there was nothing wrong. The next day I called again and told the doctor I thought I had a blood clot. He sent me in for an ultrasound to calm my fears. Since I still had a cast on my leg, the ultrasound technicians could only look behind my knee. My doctor declared me free of blood clots. Afterwards I continued to have a lot of swelling, so I called the doctor and asked if the cast could be removed. He agreed and put me in a walking boot with firm instructions not to walk on that leg, since it wasn't yet healed.
Two days later when I tried to get out of my wheelchair and into bed, I had difficulty catching my breath. I thought maybe I was just out of shape, but my husband was so concerned that he took me to the hospital.
All of the tests came back normal, but the doctor in the ER said she was going to give me a CT scan "for malpractice purposes only."
About ten minutes later, I heard everyone in the ER running around. The doctor, looking pale, opened the curtain surrounding my hospital bed. I saw a nurse standing behind her with a bag of Heparin, a medicine used to thin the blood and prevent blood clots.
She told me that I had an extensive bilateral pulmonary embolism. I started to cry, terrified that I was going to die. Not only were my lungs filled with blood clots, but there was a huge clot left in my leg that the previous ultrasound had not shown. The doctor replied, "We are going to do the best we can for you."
I was in the ICU for two days when a doctor told me I was going to die. He advised me to plan my funeral and write letters to my kids to open on their special days after I passed.
As I lay in bed reeling from the news, I saw something incredible. Two angels appeared in my room. They looked like white beams of light—I couldn't see their faces clearly, but I could see their arms and heads in a glowing robes. At first I thought I was seeing things, but I know I was not. I couldn't tell if they were watching over me or were there to "take me home." Just then I got a call from one of my clients (I am an interior designer). When I picked up the phone, she told me she had a message for me from God. She said that God wanted me to have faith in him and surrender my life to him. She also said that my baby and I were going to be just fine, and that my son was sent to do God's work. I was in shock. I had not told any of my clients that I was sick—or pregnant. How did she know I was in the hospital? My husband hadn't told anyone I was there.
I turned off my phone and cried. I read the Bible with new conviction and prayed the whole day. I found faith.
The next day I requested another ultrasound on my leg to look at the blood clot. I had faith that God had healed me. It took three ultrasound technicians to find the clot—it had shrunk overnight! Although the clots in my lungs were still there, they were not life-threatening and would continue to be treated with medicine.
Four days later I was released. The doctor called it a miracle. I proceeded to have a full-term pregnancy. During the delivery I had to have a C-section, which was extremely dangerous considering I was on blood thinners, and I was told that I could bleed to death during surgery. But I still kept my faith in God and did not lose an ounce of blood.
Today, almost one year later, I am well and free of any blood clots, and the proud mother of a happy, healthy baby boy. Having faith, believing in prayer, and giving my life to God was all God wanted.
The Angel at the Well
For millions of believers, angels are God's equivalent of sending in the Marines.
From the Book of Angels
By Sharon Linnéa
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/115/story_11543_1.html
There once was an orphan named Bette who was adopted as a child by a farm couple. From the beginning, there was no pretense of love. She was there as free labor, nothing more. Worse, the couple lived in their own cycle of violence and their cruel abuse regularly found a focus in the little girl.
When Bette was twelve, the couple went away and left her to tend the farm. The next morning she rose early. After feeding the animals, she went to the pump to draw water for them, but the pump was broken. When this had happened before, she remembered seeing her “father” open the cover off the well and draw water up in a bucket. She found the bucket and a brand-new length of rope the farmer had just purchased. Fastening it tightly around the bucket handle, she stood by the well and lowered it into the dark hole in the ground.
Unfortunately, the water table was very low, and by the time the bucket hit water, Bette could hardly keep her balance. The bucket filled quickly and began to sink. Although the girl tried desperately to get control, the weight of the bucket and water was too much for her.
Bette immediately knew she had two choices: be pulled down into the well to drown, or let go of the bucket, lose the farmer’s brand-new rope, and suffer the consequences. The answer was simple. She would hang on.
But as the weight jerked her muscles and the pulling rope burned her hands, an unexpected thing happened. A voice spoke audibly and clearly: “Lie down on your stomach!”
Bette heard the words, but she was so surprised by them that she didn’t have time to process the command and obey it before she was pulled head-first down into the dark well shaft. Down and down she fell, bracing herself for the icy splash of the water. It never came.
For somehow, something even more unexpected happened—she ceased falling down. Then she began falling up. She “fell” all the way up the shaft, and found herself seated neatly on the ground beside the well. But before she had time to question what had happened, the most incredible thing of all took place. The shaken, terrified twelve-year-old girl felt herself surrounded by a presence. And then she felt something she had never felt in her entire life. She felt totally, completely loved. It was a feeling that bathed her inside and out. She felt peace and happiness—but overriding it all was love. Someone loved her. Someone was watching out for her.
“At the time, I had never heard of angels,” Bette told me. “I had heard a friend of mine mention God, and I somehow knew God was behind my rescue. Only later, after I heard about angels did I recognize that it must have been an angel who saved me from the well.”
Like thousands of people—from peasant girls to famous painters—who have experienced angelic encounters through the centuries, Bette Fetters’s life was forever marked by that experience. Beyond gratitude for the physical rescue, the sure knowledge of such overwhelming power and love dramatically changed the abused girl and prepared her for a life of hope and wholeness of which she had never dared dream.
Chances are, you already know what you believe about angels. This book doesn’t aim to change your beliefs: quite the contrary. It means to give you information about why you believe what you do and an understanding of why your friends and neighbors believe as they do. As Flannery O’Connor says, “The truth doesn’t change based on our ability to stomach it.” Indeed, the purpose of this book is to fill you with wonder, and to help each of us live with a deeper sense of awe and mystery in our everyday lives. For while facts and cosmology are fascinating and informative, they are not as important as the angels in your life. You see, in almost every tradition, almost every language, the word angel means messenger. And as awesome as the messenger’s appearance may be, what’s really important, according to the scriptures of most traditions, is the content of the message that’s received. God never uses angels frivolously. They are sent when something significant needs to take place. Someone is being called to do something, or be something, or stand firm about something, and that person’s actions or agonies or spiritual comfort are so urgent that God does the equivalent of sending in the Marines to make certain nothing goes wrong.
But the angels themselves are so fascinating simply because they are supernatural—beyond the natural world as we know it—and the effects of their work are so dramatic. Just feeling their presence can explode a normal human’s concept of the universe. They also give us hints—big hints—about the character, nature, and being of God. People who have had encounters with angels tend to fall into two camps: either they’re afraid no one will believe them and they keep their encounter a secret, or they’re so blown away by the experience that they can’t stop talking about it.
So, is an encounter with an angel something to be hoped for? This is a question that will be explored in this book from the point of view of several faith traditions. History, however, sounds a word of caution. An angelic visitation is seldom something that happens lightly. True, we’d all appreciate a visit from an angel on a life-saving mission—lifting a girl out of a well, stopping a traffic accident, healing a child in the hospital, bringing words of peace to those in grief—and this book contains many such stories.
But when angels come to you with a message, it’s possible that your life is not about to get easier. An angel in the form of a burning bush sent Moses, content as a shepherd, to confront the Pharaoh of Egypt; Elizabeth and Mary, both mothers of babies announced by angels, saw their sons eventually executed; young Joan of Arc followed angelic instructions only to be burned at the stake. It is not an easy path that angels call humans to, and yet so unshakeable is the experience that those who have had such encounters cannot deny the power and reality of their calling, even in the face of death.
For millions of believers, angels are God's equivalent of sending in the Marines.
From the Book of Angels
By Sharon Linnéa
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/115/story_11543_1.html
There once was an orphan named Bette who was adopted as a child by a farm couple. From the beginning, there was no pretense of love. She was there as free labor, nothing more. Worse, the couple lived in their own cycle of violence and their cruel abuse regularly found a focus in the little girl.
When Bette was twelve, the couple went away and left her to tend the farm. The next morning she rose early. After feeding the animals, she went to the pump to draw water for them, but the pump was broken. When this had happened before, she remembered seeing her “father” open the cover off the well and draw water up in a bucket. She found the bucket and a brand-new length of rope the farmer had just purchased. Fastening it tightly around the bucket handle, she stood by the well and lowered it into the dark hole in the ground.
Unfortunately, the water table was very low, and by the time the bucket hit water, Bette could hardly keep her balance. The bucket filled quickly and began to sink. Although the girl tried desperately to get control, the weight of the bucket and water was too much for her.
Bette immediately knew she had two choices: be pulled down into the well to drown, or let go of the bucket, lose the farmer’s brand-new rope, and suffer the consequences. The answer was simple. She would hang on.
But as the weight jerked her muscles and the pulling rope burned her hands, an unexpected thing happened. A voice spoke audibly and clearly: “Lie down on your stomach!”
Bette heard the words, but she was so surprised by them that she didn’t have time to process the command and obey it before she was pulled head-first down into the dark well shaft. Down and down she fell, bracing herself for the icy splash of the water. It never came.
For somehow, something even more unexpected happened—she ceased falling down. Then she began falling up. She “fell” all the way up the shaft, and found herself seated neatly on the ground beside the well. But before she had time to question what had happened, the most incredible thing of all took place. The shaken, terrified twelve-year-old girl felt herself surrounded by a presence. And then she felt something she had never felt in her entire life. She felt totally, completely loved. It was a feeling that bathed her inside and out. She felt peace and happiness—but overriding it all was love. Someone loved her. Someone was watching out for her.
“At the time, I had never heard of angels,” Bette told me. “I had heard a friend of mine mention God, and I somehow knew God was behind my rescue. Only later, after I heard about angels did I recognize that it must have been an angel who saved me from the well.”
Like thousands of people—from peasant girls to famous painters—who have experienced angelic encounters through the centuries, Bette Fetters’s life was forever marked by that experience. Beyond gratitude for the physical rescue, the sure knowledge of such overwhelming power and love dramatically changed the abused girl and prepared her for a life of hope and wholeness of which she had never dared dream.
Chances are, you already know what you believe about angels. This book doesn’t aim to change your beliefs: quite the contrary. It means to give you information about why you believe what you do and an understanding of why your friends and neighbors believe as they do. As Flannery O’Connor says, “The truth doesn’t change based on our ability to stomach it.” Indeed, the purpose of this book is to fill you with wonder, and to help each of us live with a deeper sense of awe and mystery in our everyday lives. For while facts and cosmology are fascinating and informative, they are not as important as the angels in your life. You see, in almost every tradition, almost every language, the word angel means messenger. And as awesome as the messenger’s appearance may be, what’s really important, according to the scriptures of most traditions, is the content of the message that’s received. God never uses angels frivolously. They are sent when something significant needs to take place. Someone is being called to do something, or be something, or stand firm about something, and that person’s actions or agonies or spiritual comfort are so urgent that God does the equivalent of sending in the Marines to make certain nothing goes wrong.
But the angels themselves are so fascinating simply because they are supernatural—beyond the natural world as we know it—and the effects of their work are so dramatic. Just feeling their presence can explode a normal human’s concept of the universe. They also give us hints—big hints—about the character, nature, and being of God. People who have had encounters with angels tend to fall into two camps: either they’re afraid no one will believe them and they keep their encounter a secret, or they’re so blown away by the experience that they can’t stop talking about it.
So, is an encounter with an angel something to be hoped for? This is a question that will be explored in this book from the point of view of several faith traditions. History, however, sounds a word of caution. An angelic visitation is seldom something that happens lightly. True, we’d all appreciate a visit from an angel on a life-saving mission—lifting a girl out of a well, stopping a traffic accident, healing a child in the hospital, bringing words of peace to those in grief—and this book contains many such stories.
But when angels come to you with a message, it’s possible that your life is not about to get easier. An angel in the form of a burning bush sent Moses, content as a shepherd, to confront the Pharaoh of Egypt; Elizabeth and Mary, both mothers of babies announced by angels, saw their sons eventually executed; young Joan of Arc followed angelic instructions only to be burned at the stake. It is not an easy path that angels call humans to, and yet so unshakeable is the experience that those who have had such encounters cannot deny the power and reality of their calling, even in the face of death.
Are Angels Necessary?
If God is all-powerful, why do we need angels?
Is God Offended When We Contact Angels?
Why Do We Need to Contact Angels?
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/193/story_19335_1.html
Is it OK to ask God to send an angel to help us, or should we ask God to help us directly? Is God offended when we ask him to send an angel?
--Ruby F.
You ask two good questions. The first is, should we pray only to God, or is it also right to pray to his angels? Although Protestants and Catholics agree on most things about angels, they do differ on this question about praying to angels.
Protestant theologians point out that in the entire Bible, no one is ever told to pray to an angel, and there are no instructions on how to pray to one. In Matthew 6, however, Jesus instructs Christians to pray to God and even how to pray to him. Hence, most Protestants do not pray to angels, but only pray directly to God. A key text is 1 Timothy 2:5, "For there is one God and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus..."
Catholic doctrine holds that it is necessary to pray to God, but it is also helpful to pray to saints (not just those who have been canonized by the Church, but any Christian who has died). James Cardinal Gibbons in his book Faith of Our Fathers explained,
"We can ask any person in heaven to join us in prayer. This includes our relatives who have gone before us. We do not pray to the saints in the sense that they have any power of their own. We ask them to pray with us to God, just as I can ask you to pray with me to God. ...However, we do not think it is necessary or essential to pray to saints. Our one mediator is Jesus who is the bridge between us and God. He is really the essential conduit.
The Catholic Church teaches that angels are deeply concerned with our well-being. God gives them charge over us to be our guardians (Psalm 91:11-12; Daniel 12:1; Matthew 18:10; Acts 12:5-11, 5; Hebrews 1:14); so surely they must pray for their charges! We also have fellowship with them as fellow citizens of the heavenly Jerusalem (Hebrews 12:22). We should not and do not worship them as we worship God, but we can still love and talk to them, even as we love and talk to fellow Christians on earth."
Catholics make the case for why Christians can and should pray to angels. They point out that Jesus himself warned us not to offend small children, because their guardian angels have guaranteed intercessory access to the Father: "See that you do not despise one of these little ones; for I tell you that in heaven their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven" (Matt. 18:10).
They also point out that in the book of Revelation, angels are shown bringing the prayers of God’s people. "[An] angel came and stood at the altar [in heaven] with a golden censer; and he was given much incense to mingle with the prayers of all the saints upon the golden altar before the throne; and the smoke of the incense rose with the prayers of the saints from the hand of the angel before God" (Rev. 8:3–4).
Catholic children are taught early to pray to God and their guardian angel. The first prayer many Catholic children learn to pray every night is:
"Angel of God, my guardian dear, To whom his love commits me here. Ever this day be at my side, To light and guard, to rule and guide. Amen.
Many adults, who believe God has sent a guardian angel to be with them forever, find it helpful in their Christian lives to converse with their angels through the day."
As for your second question (Is God offended when we ask him to send an angel?) the answer is: No! First, it is important to have a correct view of God. People may be easily offended if we ask the wrong question, or don’t use the correct words. But, you can count on God’s love and His understanding of your thoughts and feelings. God is pleased when we pray to him. He is not offended if we ask him to send his angels. Even though Protestants do not pray directly to angels, both Protestants and Catholics thank God for his angels, for their help.
You can use this prayer to talk to God: "Lord, I claim your promise in Psalm 91:11 to send your angels to help in time of need. I need your help. Please send your angels now." Using this prayer, don’t hesitate to ask God to send his angels.
I find the idea of calling upon angels for help confusing. I was brought up Lutheran and was never directed to rely on angels, only the triune God. Why would we need angels if there is God, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit?
--Kari A.
The question you seem to be asking is: "If I can pray directly to God, why pray to angels, who are lesser beings?" Actually, there is no need to pray directly to angels. No advantage is gained in praying to an angel versus praying directly to God. God’s holy angels delight to do his will, and will never disobey his commands.
The bigger questions you raise are: Do we need angels? Does God need angels? The answer to both questions is no. God is all-powerful, and he can do everything without help. But, in his great love, God created the angels to help all who believe in him. Hebrews 1:14 says, "Are not all angels ministering spirits sent to serve those who will inherit salvation?" You do not need to pray to angels, but you also need to be aware that they are a part of the wonderful provision God has prepared for you. Martin Luther wrote, "An angel is a spiritual creature created by God for the service of Christendom and the church." Do not ignore God’s gift of angels; instead, be aware of their presence and thank God for them. Even though you will always find what you need in the triune God, God will also send his angels if you pray to him for help. Just like God, the angels will always be there for you.
If God is all-powerful, why do we need angels?
Is God Offended When We Contact Angels?
Why Do We Need to Contact Angels?
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/193/story_19335_1.html
Is it OK to ask God to send an angel to help us, or should we ask God to help us directly? Is God offended when we ask him to send an angel?
--Ruby F.
You ask two good questions. The first is, should we pray only to God, or is it also right to pray to his angels? Although Protestants and Catholics agree on most things about angels, they do differ on this question about praying to angels.
Protestant theologians point out that in the entire Bible, no one is ever told to pray to an angel, and there are no instructions on how to pray to one. In Matthew 6, however, Jesus instructs Christians to pray to God and even how to pray to him. Hence, most Protestants do not pray to angels, but only pray directly to God. A key text is 1 Timothy 2:5, "For there is one God and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus..."
Catholic doctrine holds that it is necessary to pray to God, but it is also helpful to pray to saints (not just those who have been canonized by the Church, but any Christian who has died). James Cardinal Gibbons in his book Faith of Our Fathers explained,
"We can ask any person in heaven to join us in prayer. This includes our relatives who have gone before us. We do not pray to the saints in the sense that they have any power of their own. We ask them to pray with us to God, just as I can ask you to pray with me to God. ...However, we do not think it is necessary or essential to pray to saints. Our one mediator is Jesus who is the bridge between us and God. He is really the essential conduit.
The Catholic Church teaches that angels are deeply concerned with our well-being. God gives them charge over us to be our guardians (Psalm 91:11-12; Daniel 12:1; Matthew 18:10; Acts 12:5-11, 5; Hebrews 1:14); so surely they must pray for their charges! We also have fellowship with them as fellow citizens of the heavenly Jerusalem (Hebrews 12:22). We should not and do not worship them as we worship God, but we can still love and talk to them, even as we love and talk to fellow Christians on earth."
Catholics make the case for why Christians can and should pray to angels. They point out that Jesus himself warned us not to offend small children, because their guardian angels have guaranteed intercessory access to the Father: "See that you do not despise one of these little ones; for I tell you that in heaven their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven" (Matt. 18:10).
They also point out that in the book of Revelation, angels are shown bringing the prayers of God’s people. "[An] angel came and stood at the altar [in heaven] with a golden censer; and he was given much incense to mingle with the prayers of all the saints upon the golden altar before the throne; and the smoke of the incense rose with the prayers of the saints from the hand of the angel before God" (Rev. 8:3–4).
Catholic children are taught early to pray to God and their guardian angel. The first prayer many Catholic children learn to pray every night is:
"Angel of God, my guardian dear, To whom his love commits me here. Ever this day be at my side, To light and guard, to rule and guide. Amen.
Many adults, who believe God has sent a guardian angel to be with them forever, find it helpful in their Christian lives to converse with their angels through the day."
As for your second question (Is God offended when we ask him to send an angel?) the answer is: No! First, it is important to have a correct view of God. People may be easily offended if we ask the wrong question, or don’t use the correct words. But, you can count on God’s love and His understanding of your thoughts and feelings. God is pleased when we pray to him. He is not offended if we ask him to send his angels. Even though Protestants do not pray directly to angels, both Protestants and Catholics thank God for his angels, for their help.
You can use this prayer to talk to God: "Lord, I claim your promise in Psalm 91:11 to send your angels to help in time of need. I need your help. Please send your angels now." Using this prayer, don’t hesitate to ask God to send his angels.
I find the idea of calling upon angels for help confusing. I was brought up Lutheran and was never directed to rely on angels, only the triune God. Why would we need angels if there is God, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit?
--Kari A.
The question you seem to be asking is: "If I can pray directly to God, why pray to angels, who are lesser beings?" Actually, there is no need to pray directly to angels. No advantage is gained in praying to an angel versus praying directly to God. God’s holy angels delight to do his will, and will never disobey his commands.
The bigger questions you raise are: Do we need angels? Does God need angels? The answer to both questions is no. God is all-powerful, and he can do everything without help. But, in his great love, God created the angels to help all who believe in him. Hebrews 1:14 says, "Are not all angels ministering spirits sent to serve those who will inherit salvation?" You do not need to pray to angels, but you also need to be aware that they are a part of the wonderful provision God has prepared for you. Martin Luther wrote, "An angel is a spiritual creature created by God for the service of Christendom and the church." Do not ignore God’s gift of angels; instead, be aware of their presence and thank God for them. Even though you will always find what you need in the triune God, God will also send his angels if you pray to him for help. Just like God, the angels will always be there for you.
The Beautiful Angels
A life is prolonged by the grace of God.
Excerpted from 'Expect Miracles' edited by Mary Ellen published by Conari Press.
I believe in angels and have for over 45 years. When I was 15, my mother and grandmother had to make a trip to Great Falls, Montana, to help settle grandmother's brother's estate. Shortly after arriving, my grandmother started feeling pain in her stomach. After a couple of days, mother took her to the hospital.
The doctors said grandmother's appendix had ruptured, peritonitis had set in, and her chances for survival were very poor. Scared to death, mother sat in the hospital room with her mother. Suddenly, in the darkest hour of the night, although she appeared to be asleep, grandmother said, "Oh the angels! Oh the beautiful angels." She seemed to be actually seeing angels around her in the room.
From that minute she started healing, and we were blessed to have her around for another 15 years.
A life is prolonged by the grace of God.
Excerpted from 'Expect Miracles' edited by Mary Ellen published by Conari Press.
I believe in angels and have for over 45 years. When I was 15, my mother and grandmother had to make a trip to Great Falls, Montana, to help settle grandmother's brother's estate. Shortly after arriving, my grandmother started feeling pain in her stomach. After a couple of days, mother took her to the hospital.
The doctors said grandmother's appendix had ruptured, peritonitis had set in, and her chances for survival were very poor. Scared to death, mother sat in the hospital room with her mother. Suddenly, in the darkest hour of the night, although she appeared to be asleep, grandmother said, "Oh the angels! Oh the beautiful angels." She seemed to be actually seeing angels around her in the room.
From that minute she started healing, and we were blessed to have her around for another 15 years.
A Contemporary Hindu
Shoba Narayan
May Hanuman Be With You
A Hindu mother talks about the Gods and gurus that serve as her family’s 'guardian angels.'
The other night, my five-year-old daughter, Ranjini, told me that she had a bad dream. "Mom," she asked, "how can I make bad dreams go away?"
I thought for a moment, and told her what my own mother had told me when I was afraid of the dark as a child. "Think of Hanuman," my mother always said. "He will protect you." (Hanuman is Hinduism's Monkey-God, known for his strength and benevolence.) With that, she taught me a sloka (chant) that I could repeat whenever I was afraid. I taught Ranjini the same four lines and told her to repeat them before she went to sleep to ward off bad dreams.
It seems to work. It's not that my daughter has never been afraid again. But she now has a method for dealing with her fear. Oftentimes, when I put her to bed, she will say in a small voice, "Mom, let's say Manojavam together," and we begin the chant. Hanuman had, in a sense, become my daughter's guardian angel. He protected her and soothed her fears when she was afraid.
While angels play a strong role in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, there are no angel-like figures in Hinduism. Rather, Hindus look to an array of Gods, minor Gods (devas), planets like Sani (Saturn), gurus (teachers), and ancestors, all of whom can play a protective role during times of crisis or stress: during illness, in the face of physical danger, or when taking a test, trying for a promotion at work, or improving a relationship.
Many Hindus have favorite Gods and Goddesses or Ishta Devatas, whom they call upon to help, guide and protect them. When Hindus face unexplainable hurdles in life, they might typically ask their astrologer to examine their horoscope and appease the various planets. I still recall my brother wearing a black amulet as a child because my parents wanted the planet Sani (Saturn) to protect him. Sani held a strong position in my brother's horoscope and was therefore called on to guard him.
My mother turned to her gurus, who were her guardian angels, guides, and soothsayers all rolled into one. She gave us sacred ash blessed by her guru and asked us to wear it on our foreheads before we ventured out of the house. My father still says that he overcame the hardships in his life because of the benevolence and protection of his ancestors. He performs a yearly shraadam (ancestor worship) with diligence to sustain their support. For children, the playful God Krishna or the Monkey-God Hanuman are easy to relate to. Hanuman in particular is a favorite protector. A story that is told often about Hanuman relates to Lord Rama's battle against the evil king Ravana. When Rama's brother, Lakshmana, fell unconscious in the battlefield, a doctor was summoned. After examining Lakshmana, the physician asked for the Sanjeevini herb, which would instantly cure the wounded warrior.
Because he was the strongest of the beings there on the battlefield, Hanuman was asked to fly to the faraway mountain and procure the herb. When Hanuman landed on the mountain, he faced a bewildering array of herbs, all of which looked alike to him. Realizing that time was of the essence, he uprooted the entire mountain and carried it back to the battlefield. The physician plucked out the herb, Lakshmana was cured, and Rama's battle against the evil king, Ravana, continued.
Similarly, Krishna is called upon very often in times of crisis because of the role he plays in Hindu mythology as a savant and protector. The Bhagavad Gita, arguably Hinduism's most famous religious text, came from Krishna. In the Mahabharata, one of Hinduism's most famous epics, Krishna protects Queen Draupadi from being disrobed by the evil Dushasana in court. As Dushasana pulls her sari, Draupadi calls "Krishna," and lo and behold, the sari grows endless. As Dushasan futilely pulls, the sari grows and Draupadi's modesty is saved. This is another story I frequently tell my daughter mostly because she related easily to Krishna. Unlike stereotypical Gods, Krishna is not perfect. As a child, he used to steal butter and play tricks on his mother and father. But he also holds the Sudarshana chakra, a flying discus that, as I tell my daughter, "will protect you from that bully in the playground" or whatever that day's crisis might be.
As a practicing Hindu, I believe that such protective figures are especially important after September 11th. They provide children with a certain amount of psychological comfort. If nothing else, calling on angels and Gods gives children, and indeed adults, a weapon against the obstacles that life throws in our paths. Now, more than ever, we need such amulets, armors and mythological weapons.
Shoba Narayan
May Hanuman Be With You
A Hindu mother talks about the Gods and gurus that serve as her family’s 'guardian angels.'
The other night, my five-year-old daughter, Ranjini, told me that she had a bad dream. "Mom," she asked, "how can I make bad dreams go away?"
I thought for a moment, and told her what my own mother had told me when I was afraid of the dark as a child. "Think of Hanuman," my mother always said. "He will protect you." (Hanuman is Hinduism's Monkey-God, known for his strength and benevolence.) With that, she taught me a sloka (chant) that I could repeat whenever I was afraid. I taught Ranjini the same four lines and told her to repeat them before she went to sleep to ward off bad dreams.
It seems to work. It's not that my daughter has never been afraid again. But she now has a method for dealing with her fear. Oftentimes, when I put her to bed, she will say in a small voice, "Mom, let's say Manojavam together," and we begin the chant. Hanuman had, in a sense, become my daughter's guardian angel. He protected her and soothed her fears when she was afraid.
While angels play a strong role in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, there are no angel-like figures in Hinduism. Rather, Hindus look to an array of Gods, minor Gods (devas), planets like Sani (Saturn), gurus (teachers), and ancestors, all of whom can play a protective role during times of crisis or stress: during illness, in the face of physical danger, or when taking a test, trying for a promotion at work, or improving a relationship.
Many Hindus have favorite Gods and Goddesses or Ishta Devatas, whom they call upon to help, guide and protect them. When Hindus face unexplainable hurdles in life, they might typically ask their astrologer to examine their horoscope and appease the various planets. I still recall my brother wearing a black amulet as a child because my parents wanted the planet Sani (Saturn) to protect him. Sani held a strong position in my brother's horoscope and was therefore called on to guard him.
My mother turned to her gurus, who were her guardian angels, guides, and soothsayers all rolled into one. She gave us sacred ash blessed by her guru and asked us to wear it on our foreheads before we ventured out of the house. My father still says that he overcame the hardships in his life because of the benevolence and protection of his ancestors. He performs a yearly shraadam (ancestor worship) with diligence to sustain their support. For children, the playful God Krishna or the Monkey-God Hanuman are easy to relate to. Hanuman in particular is a favorite protector. A story that is told often about Hanuman relates to Lord Rama's battle against the evil king Ravana. When Rama's brother, Lakshmana, fell unconscious in the battlefield, a doctor was summoned. After examining Lakshmana, the physician asked for the Sanjeevini herb, which would instantly cure the wounded warrior.
Because he was the strongest of the beings there on the battlefield, Hanuman was asked to fly to the faraway mountain and procure the herb. When Hanuman landed on the mountain, he faced a bewildering array of herbs, all of which looked alike to him. Realizing that time was of the essence, he uprooted the entire mountain and carried it back to the battlefield. The physician plucked out the herb, Lakshmana was cured, and Rama's battle against the evil king, Ravana, continued.
Similarly, Krishna is called upon very often in times of crisis because of the role he plays in Hindu mythology as a savant and protector. The Bhagavad Gita, arguably Hinduism's most famous religious text, came from Krishna. In the Mahabharata, one of Hinduism's most famous epics, Krishna protects Queen Draupadi from being disrobed by the evil Dushasana in court. As Dushasana pulls her sari, Draupadi calls "Krishna," and lo and behold, the sari grows endless. As Dushasan futilely pulls, the sari grows and Draupadi's modesty is saved. This is another story I frequently tell my daughter mostly because she related easily to Krishna. Unlike stereotypical Gods, Krishna is not perfect. As a child, he used to steal butter and play tricks on his mother and father. But he also holds the Sudarshana chakra, a flying discus that, as I tell my daughter, "will protect you from that bully in the playground" or whatever that day's crisis might be.
As a practicing Hindu, I believe that such protective figures are especially important after September 11th. They provide children with a certain amount of psychological comfort. If nothing else, calling on angels and Gods gives children, and indeed adults, a weapon against the obstacles that life throws in our paths. Now, more than ever, we need such amulets, armors and mythological weapons.
"A truly angelic message leaves us confident, not anxious. No matter whether the message is a joyous one or a sobering insight, we feel an inner sense of confidence that the content is appropriate for us and that it harmonizes with what our deepest spirit knows to be right and true."
-Eileen Elias Freeman, "Touched by Angels"
A traveler should always seek the company of the righteous, for ministering angels travel with them, whereas, "angels of Satan" go along with the wicked.
-Bernard J. Bamberger,
"Fallen Angels"
You can be an angel by being true
to your own truth and ideals.
-Jane M. Howard
Allow the angel within you to emerge in expressions of loving thoughts, and kindesses.
-Liesl Vazquez
Daddy's Last Days
What was a cat doing in our hospice room?
By Jane Jordan Heinrich
Reprinted with permission from Angels On Earth magazine.
My daddy was a high school football star, the highest scorer in the state and later a halfback for Texas Christian University. He was even offered a spot on the Chicago Bears, but he turned it down, preferring a quiet life with mama and us two kids, and working with his hands every day, fixing electronics in his shop. After retirement he specialized in restoring antique televisions and radios. I used to love watching Daddy at his worktable, repairing some vintage machine, his big, calloused hands moving so carefully among those thin wires. He had the same gentle touch with people. Daddy was able to cheer me up with a wink or an I-love-you smile, or comfort me with a squeeze of his hand. When Daddy was diagnosed with an advanced stage of cancer, I felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me. He was 91 years old, and I knew it was time to let him go. But as the disease stole away his strength and made him so weak he could barely move or talk, I longed to make him feel as safe and secure in his last days as he's always made me feel.
We put Daddy in hospice care. Mama, my brother, Bob, and I checked him in that first day. Mama set up flowers and plants in the private room, Bob lined family photos on Dad's bedside table where he could see them easily, and I slipped an extra pillow under his head. He stared out the window fixedly, I wasn't even sure if he knew we were in the room.
"I don't know if any of this helps, Daddy, " I whispered to him, touching his outstretched hand. "I just wish you could tell me what you need." He squeezed my fingers with a familiar firmness, and our eyes met for a moment. Then his gaze lost focus and drifted away. Something brushed my leg, and I looked down. Sitting at my feet was a plump gray and white tabby cat. She looked up at me, eyes closing in a friendly cat-smile, then rubbed her soft, furry side against my leg.
"That must be the cat the nurse at the front desk was telling us about," Mama said, bending down to scratch her under the chin. "Her name is Hope."
"She lives here?" I asked. Bob picked the cat up and laid her carefully on the bed at Daddy's feet.
"For some time now. Apparently she has a way with sick people," he said.
Hope glanced at Daddy then made her way purposely up the sheets, lay down beside his legs and began purring. A smile crept over the tired lines of Daddy's face. "Looks like she's made a new friend," Mama said.
For the rest or the day, Hope hardly left Daddy's side. She lay curled in a gray ball on his legs as Mama, Bob and I sat by the bed. We read and talked to Daddy, and at first he seemed to understand. His eyes would even fill sometimes with that good humor we knew so well. But after a while he seemed to drift away, staring at the window or the wall. By the end of the day, we’d all fallen into silence, watching the light grow dimmer through the window. The only only sounds in the room were Daddy’s slow breathing and Hope’s purr, steady and gentle beneath it.
That first night, I stayed with Daddy. Bob had to work in the morning, and Mama was worn out from the long day. I lay awake in the bed next to Daddy’s listening to him breathe. Staring into the darkness, I saw our whole life together: Daddy holding me as a baby, teaching me how to swim, how to dance, how to make a garden grow.
Daddy used to pick wildflowers by the hundreds and dry them for their seeds. These he carried in his pockets everywhere he went, and scattered them by the handful wherever he found a bare patch of earth. I remembered my first day of school, how upset I had been at the thought of leaving him and Mama. But on the bus ride there, I'd seen bright yellow patches of Daddy's wildflowers all along the roadside, and I felt like he was still with me.
Now, as I lay beside Daddy in the darkness, it was those little things that I remembered in such great detail. Did he know how much they’d meant to me, how close to him they’d made me feel? I fell asleep that night wishing I could tell him and know that he’d understand.
The next day, Daddy’s condition was worse. His face was pale, and he looked at us with a blank, uncomprehending gaze. On the morning of the third day, he had a fit of trembling in his arms and legs so intense it shook the bed. I crawled in beside him and wrapped his body in my arms to stop the shaking. Dear Lord, help me comfort him. Hope jumped onto the bed and nestled a space for herself, with a gentle insistence, between us. She propped her front paws on Daddy’s stomach and brushed her tail against me.
After the trembling stopped, I returned to my bed. I’d always felt so safe when Daddy held me wrapped in his strong arms. It seemed impossible that this frail figure sleeping in the bed beside me could be the same man.
I turned onto my side, burying my face in the pillow, and tears sprang into my eyes. After a moment, something soft brushed against my nose, and I looked up. Hope had jumped onto the bed beside me, her silent warmth soothing my sorrow.
Daddy passed in and out of consciousness the whole next day, and I wondered with each breath if it would be his last. That night, I shut out the lights, feeling emotionally and physically drained. But as soon as my head touched the pillow, I felt a soft weight beside me. Almost every night after that, Hope slept in the bed beside me.
On the fifth day, Daddy’s breathing became erratic. Mama, Bob and I gathered around his bed. From her spot at his feet, Hope raised her head and perked up her ears. She seemed to study Daddy’s face, then stood and padded quietly to his shoulder. She laid her head on the pillow by his ear and began to purr. Within minutes his breathing became peaceful again.
Mama was so shaken by the close call that she had to leave the room and sit in the hall. Hope got up from her place on Daddy’s pillow and followed her. As soon as I was sure his breathing lapsed back to normal, I went to the door and looked out. Mama was holding Hope in her lap, her face pressed against the cat’s soft fur, murmuring into her ear. Even as I watched, I could see the pain and heartache ease out of Mama’s face.
After seven days in hospice care Daddy fell into a deep, untroubled sleep from which we knew he wouldn’t wake. We sat around his bed the last day, holding his hand and saying prayers.
Hope never left Daddy’s hospice room once, not even to eat. We stroked her where she lay at Daddy’s side, peacefully purring. And as we waited, that steady sound seemed to fill the room. When Daddy finally left this world, slipping easily from sleep, Hope continued to purr in his lap, soft as a whisper until even she was quiet.
That spring, every road I drove down in our little town seemed to be lined with Daddy’s wildflowers. They poked their yellow heads from empty lots and friends’ gardens, brighter than they’d ever been before. And whenever I saw them I thought about the last week that Daddy and I had spent together.
Somehow, I felt sure that I had been able to comfort Daddy in the little ways that matter most, and that he had understood all the thing I’d wanted to say to him. I think that was because Hope was there, passing between us. She knew exactly what we all needed. It was as simple as being together.
-Eileen Elias Freeman, "Touched by Angels"
A traveler should always seek the company of the righteous, for ministering angels travel with them, whereas, "angels of Satan" go along with the wicked.
-Bernard J. Bamberger,
"Fallen Angels"
You can be an angel by being true
to your own truth and ideals.
-Jane M. Howard
Allow the angel within you to emerge in expressions of loving thoughts, and kindesses.
-Liesl Vazquez
Daddy's Last Days
What was a cat doing in our hospice room?
By Jane Jordan Heinrich
Reprinted with permission from Angels On Earth magazine.
My daddy was a high school football star, the highest scorer in the state and later a halfback for Texas Christian University. He was even offered a spot on the Chicago Bears, but he turned it down, preferring a quiet life with mama and us two kids, and working with his hands every day, fixing electronics in his shop. After retirement he specialized in restoring antique televisions and radios. I used to love watching Daddy at his worktable, repairing some vintage machine, his big, calloused hands moving so carefully among those thin wires. He had the same gentle touch with people. Daddy was able to cheer me up with a wink or an I-love-you smile, or comfort me with a squeeze of his hand. When Daddy was diagnosed with an advanced stage of cancer, I felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me. He was 91 years old, and I knew it was time to let him go. But as the disease stole away his strength and made him so weak he could barely move or talk, I longed to make him feel as safe and secure in his last days as he's always made me feel.
We put Daddy in hospice care. Mama, my brother, Bob, and I checked him in that first day. Mama set up flowers and plants in the private room, Bob lined family photos on Dad's bedside table where he could see them easily, and I slipped an extra pillow under his head. He stared out the window fixedly, I wasn't even sure if he knew we were in the room.
"I don't know if any of this helps, Daddy, " I whispered to him, touching his outstretched hand. "I just wish you could tell me what you need." He squeezed my fingers with a familiar firmness, and our eyes met for a moment. Then his gaze lost focus and drifted away. Something brushed my leg, and I looked down. Sitting at my feet was a plump gray and white tabby cat. She looked up at me, eyes closing in a friendly cat-smile, then rubbed her soft, furry side against my leg.
"That must be the cat the nurse at the front desk was telling us about," Mama said, bending down to scratch her under the chin. "Her name is Hope."
"She lives here?" I asked. Bob picked the cat up and laid her carefully on the bed at Daddy's feet.
"For some time now. Apparently she has a way with sick people," he said.
Hope glanced at Daddy then made her way purposely up the sheets, lay down beside his legs and began purring. A smile crept over the tired lines of Daddy's face. "Looks like she's made a new friend," Mama said.
For the rest or the day, Hope hardly left Daddy's side. She lay curled in a gray ball on his legs as Mama, Bob and I sat by the bed. We read and talked to Daddy, and at first he seemed to understand. His eyes would even fill sometimes with that good humor we knew so well. But after a while he seemed to drift away, staring at the window or the wall. By the end of the day, we’d all fallen into silence, watching the light grow dimmer through the window. The only only sounds in the room were Daddy’s slow breathing and Hope’s purr, steady and gentle beneath it.
That first night, I stayed with Daddy. Bob had to work in the morning, and Mama was worn out from the long day. I lay awake in the bed next to Daddy’s listening to him breathe. Staring into the darkness, I saw our whole life together: Daddy holding me as a baby, teaching me how to swim, how to dance, how to make a garden grow.
Daddy used to pick wildflowers by the hundreds and dry them for their seeds. These he carried in his pockets everywhere he went, and scattered them by the handful wherever he found a bare patch of earth. I remembered my first day of school, how upset I had been at the thought of leaving him and Mama. But on the bus ride there, I'd seen bright yellow patches of Daddy's wildflowers all along the roadside, and I felt like he was still with me.
Now, as I lay beside Daddy in the darkness, it was those little things that I remembered in such great detail. Did he know how much they’d meant to me, how close to him they’d made me feel? I fell asleep that night wishing I could tell him and know that he’d understand.
The next day, Daddy’s condition was worse. His face was pale, and he looked at us with a blank, uncomprehending gaze. On the morning of the third day, he had a fit of trembling in his arms and legs so intense it shook the bed. I crawled in beside him and wrapped his body in my arms to stop the shaking. Dear Lord, help me comfort him. Hope jumped onto the bed and nestled a space for herself, with a gentle insistence, between us. She propped her front paws on Daddy’s stomach and brushed her tail against me.
After the trembling stopped, I returned to my bed. I’d always felt so safe when Daddy held me wrapped in his strong arms. It seemed impossible that this frail figure sleeping in the bed beside me could be the same man.
I turned onto my side, burying my face in the pillow, and tears sprang into my eyes. After a moment, something soft brushed against my nose, and I looked up. Hope had jumped onto the bed beside me, her silent warmth soothing my sorrow.
Daddy passed in and out of consciousness the whole next day, and I wondered with each breath if it would be his last. That night, I shut out the lights, feeling emotionally and physically drained. But as soon as my head touched the pillow, I felt a soft weight beside me. Almost every night after that, Hope slept in the bed beside me.
On the fifth day, Daddy’s breathing became erratic. Mama, Bob and I gathered around his bed. From her spot at his feet, Hope raised her head and perked up her ears. She seemed to study Daddy’s face, then stood and padded quietly to his shoulder. She laid her head on the pillow by his ear and began to purr. Within minutes his breathing became peaceful again.
Mama was so shaken by the close call that she had to leave the room and sit in the hall. Hope got up from her place on Daddy’s pillow and followed her. As soon as I was sure his breathing lapsed back to normal, I went to the door and looked out. Mama was holding Hope in her lap, her face pressed against the cat’s soft fur, murmuring into her ear. Even as I watched, I could see the pain and heartache ease out of Mama’s face.
After seven days in hospice care Daddy fell into a deep, untroubled sleep from which we knew he wouldn’t wake. We sat around his bed the last day, holding his hand and saying prayers.
Hope never left Daddy’s hospice room once, not even to eat. We stroked her where she lay at Daddy’s side, peacefully purring. And as we waited, that steady sound seemed to fill the room. When Daddy finally left this world, slipping easily from sleep, Hope continued to purr in his lap, soft as a whisper until even she was quiet.
That spring, every road I drove down in our little town seemed to be lined with Daddy’s wildflowers. They poked their yellow heads from empty lots and friends’ gardens, brighter than they’d ever been before. And whenever I saw them I thought about the last week that Daddy and I had spent together.
Somehow, I felt sure that I had been able to comfort Daddy in the little ways that matter most, and that he had understood all the thing I’d wanted to say to him. I think that was because Hope was there, passing between us. She knew exactly what we all needed. It was as simple as being together.
When you're in the company of angels,
things are always looking up
-Douglas Pagels,
'May You Always Have an Angel by Your Side'
***
Angels in the Storm
How angels helped one Florida resident in the middle of Hurricane Charley.
By Joan Wester Anderson
This article originally appeared on Beliefnet in September of 2004.
We have all read of the destruction left by Hurricane Charley, especially around the Punta Gorda area. One reader reports that gas lines are still very long, there is a shortage of clean-up material and ice, and people are getting depressed. If anyone knows of a way that we can help, please let us know.
However, in the midst of difficulties, the angels still work. While watching and praying for those people. I remembered stories I had read about people literally asking angels to provide a guard or a fence around them or their property. On one occasion, a Florida orange grower actually claimed to have saved a crop of oranges from frost by asking angels to stand guard: his was the only crop in the area that did not freeze. In another instance, a woman silently posted angel guards around her house, one at each corner. Later, a small child told her he had seen four angels around her house as he passed it. I knew the angels would be active as Hurricane Charley drew nearer. But would people think to ask for help in that way?
A few days later, Beth Dewey of Orlando, sent a writeup to another e-zine. As she explained, her father is dying of cancer and could not possible go to a shelter, so Beth, her mother and Dad decided to ride out the storm together at Beth’s home. It was risky, because Beth lives in a mobile home, and so do her parents, "As the storm approached, I prayed that God would steer it in another direction," Beth says, "but God did not honor that request. Instead, He set Charley on a path straight to us."
As the winds blew, Beth sat and prayed, and wondered if God knew what He was doing. She tried to remember that "if He brings me to it, He will surely bring me through it." Hopefully, although she saw no signs, angels were posted around their family’s homes.
Eventually the storm passed, and Beth was amazed to discover that her trailer seemed relatively untouched. And they also had electricity, although many of their neighbors did not. "This was a TRUE blessing because my Dad would not have survived the heat," Beth says.
But perhaps the best angelic answer occurred when the three of them opened Beth’s door and stepped outside to check the other trailer. For some time it had needed a new roof, but Beth’s parents could not afford to provide it. Now, all three looked with awe at the second trailer. It had no damage along the sides or, as they later discovered, inside. But a tree had fallen completely through the roof, making it un-fixable. The insurance company would give them a new one, at no expense.
We cannot infer that prayer works magic. There are plenty of hurricane victims who prayed, yet lost so much. And there are others who never thought of asking for angelic aid, but came out relatively unscathed. This is part of the mystery of life that we will understand only when we reach heaven.
But as many people know—and more learn every day—it never hurts to ask. "When you think God doesn’t hear you," says Beth, "let me assure you that He does, just not in the ways you might expect."
things are always looking up
-Douglas Pagels,
'May You Always Have an Angel by Your Side'
***
Angels in the Storm
How angels helped one Florida resident in the middle of Hurricane Charley.
By Joan Wester Anderson
This article originally appeared on Beliefnet in September of 2004.
We have all read of the destruction left by Hurricane Charley, especially around the Punta Gorda area. One reader reports that gas lines are still very long, there is a shortage of clean-up material and ice, and people are getting depressed. If anyone knows of a way that we can help, please let us know.
However, in the midst of difficulties, the angels still work. While watching and praying for those people. I remembered stories I had read about people literally asking angels to provide a guard or a fence around them or their property. On one occasion, a Florida orange grower actually claimed to have saved a crop of oranges from frost by asking angels to stand guard: his was the only crop in the area that did not freeze. In another instance, a woman silently posted angel guards around her house, one at each corner. Later, a small child told her he had seen four angels around her house as he passed it. I knew the angels would be active as Hurricane Charley drew nearer. But would people think to ask for help in that way?
A few days later, Beth Dewey of Orlando, sent a writeup to another e-zine. As she explained, her father is dying of cancer and could not possible go to a shelter, so Beth, her mother and Dad decided to ride out the storm together at Beth’s home. It was risky, because Beth lives in a mobile home, and so do her parents, "As the storm approached, I prayed that God would steer it in another direction," Beth says, "but God did not honor that request. Instead, He set Charley on a path straight to us."
As the winds blew, Beth sat and prayed, and wondered if God knew what He was doing. She tried to remember that "if He brings me to it, He will surely bring me through it." Hopefully, although she saw no signs, angels were posted around their family’s homes.
Eventually the storm passed, and Beth was amazed to discover that her trailer seemed relatively untouched. And they also had electricity, although many of their neighbors did not. "This was a TRUE blessing because my Dad would not have survived the heat," Beth says.
But perhaps the best angelic answer occurred when the three of them opened Beth’s door and stepped outside to check the other trailer. For some time it had needed a new roof, but Beth’s parents could not afford to provide it. Now, all three looked with awe at the second trailer. It had no damage along the sides or, as they later discovered, inside. But a tree had fallen completely through the roof, making it un-fixable. The insurance company would give them a new one, at no expense.
We cannot infer that prayer works magic. There are plenty of hurricane victims who prayed, yet lost so much. And there are others who never thought of asking for angelic aid, but came out relatively unscathed. This is part of the mystery of life that we will understand only when we reach heaven.
But as many people know—and more learn every day—it never hurts to ask. "When you think God doesn’t hear you," says Beth, "let me assure you that He does, just not in the ways you might expect."
'The Angels Want to Help You'
How can a skeptic learn to embrace angels? Plus, how to call on Archangel Michael for protection against negative energy.
Interview by Sherry Huang
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/194/stor ... mc_id=NL24
At a young age Doreen Virtue was clairvoyant, capable of seeing angels and other metaphysical beings. While her parents didn't encourage or discourage her psychic ability, she became a loner after being terribly teased by her peers. For years, Doreen rebuffed any contact from angels until she had a life-changing experience in 1995. Her newest book, Angels 101, is a guide for beginners who want to learn how to contact their heavenly helpers. She is currently on a "Goddesses and Angels" tour teaching about the "power of the angelic realm."
What was the turning point that made you publicly embrace angels?
I wanted to help people, so I became a psychotherapist specializing in eating disorders. But all this time, the angels were telling me that I was really supposed to be teaching about spiritual healing. I kept arguing, "No, no, no."
Then, on July 15, 1995, came the turning point. I was getting ready to go to a church in Anaheim, when I heard this loud, male voice at my right ear say, "You better put the top up on your car or it will be stolen." At the time, I was driving a convertible. I said to the angels, "I don't have time," and the angels didn't really argue.
I drove and prayed for protection. As I pulled into the parking lot, I felt this really creepy energy, as if someone poured negative paint on me. I started praying even harder. I got out of the car, and then I heard this male voice behind me, screaming and cursing: "You better f-ing give me your car keys." I turned around and there was this angry-looking guy who was much shorter than me. Doreen Virtue's Turning Point
I saw this glimmer of fear in him, even though he had a gun and a knife. I thought, "He's afraid," and I suddenly felt so safe. Then, I heard the angel's voice again, outside my right ear, saying: "Scream with all your might, Doreen."
And this was the breakthrough moment, because I hadn't listened to my angels in so long. I finally obeyed them—I screamed like a cave woman. And this woman who was in the parking lot heard my scream, and she leaned on her car horn to attract the people in the church to come out. Their presence scared the man and his accomplice away. I was shaking, but I got down on my knees in this greasy, oily parking lot just to thank God that my life had been spared. I thanked God and the angels for saving me.
When I went home, I started doing research on angel experiences. I asked God and the angels how I could repay them, and they told me the same thing they've been saying, which was for me to teach about mind-body-spirit. So the very next day, I "came out of the closet," so to speak. I was scheduled to give a talk in Las Vegas on eating disorders, and I chose to wear a long goddess gown and a crystal necklace; I was just myself. I started to tell my clients that I talked to angels. Even though I was afraid of what might happen, I decided to make a commitment to follow my divine guidance.
How can a complete beginner learn to contact angels?
The way to contact angels is to, first of all, feel comfortable with it. Say a prayer to whomever you are aligned with spiritually. If you're more of a traditional Christian, ask God and Jesus how they feel about it. You'll definitely get a confirmation that it's safe, but I think you should go with what your faith is and not defy it, because if you do, you'll feel afraid, which will cause a block in connecting with angels. The angels want to help you with everything that brings you peace, and they can only help you if you ask.
How can people let go of their cynicism?
To me, a skeptic is someone who is afraid of being disappointed. What they need to do is experiment, and ask for something simple like a taxicab at 5 o'clock on a Friday or a parking place in a crowded mall on a Saturday afternoon.
How can beginners contact angels but protect themselves against negative spirits? How do they know what's really communicating with them?
The best way to shield yourself from all negative energy, whether it's from people who are negative or spirits who are negative, is to call on Archangel Michael. He is completely non-denominational and has the ability to be with everyone who calls on him simultaneously without time or space restrictions. He is amazing. Calling on Archangel Michael
Mentally, just say: "Archangel Michael, I ask that you protect me from any lower or negative energy. And I ask that everyone who comes into contact with me be someone who is love-based and who is a gift from God." Now, if you ask him to do that, you might have a couple of people drop out of your life. He is what we call the "bouncer angel," like a night club angel. Also, he's the patron saint of police officers because he gives protection of all kinds—emotional, physical, and spiritual. He gives you courage, and a beginner would have this feeling of safety with Michael around.
How would people recognize Archangel Michael? What does he look like physically?
You'll first sense him as a feeling of peace and safety in your heart. He's got a real warm temperature, and you'll notice that your body starts to heat up. Some people actually begin to perspire when he shows up. I've noticed that in my workshops, when we invoke him, the sweaters come off and some women think they're having a hot flash.
What Does Michael Look Like?
If you go to a museum and look at pictures of Michael done by painters throughout time, they always picture him as very fit and shirtless, almost like a Chippendale dancer or a Harlequin romance cover. With his long, blonde hair and golden skin, he looks like a Nordic ski instructor. Six-pack abs, a sword. Michael's two colors are gold and also a bright blue or a bright purple.
How often do you contact angels?
All day long. It's like having a team of consultants with you or a sporting team and you just consult with them before you make any decisions. I wake up every morning, and my husband and I say a prayer asking God and the angels for whatever we need help with, and it just seems that everything goes smoother when we ask.
What are your personal favorite rituals for contacting angels? Do you meditate, stretch, or light candles?
You really don't need any special rituals. That's the neat thing about angels. I'm not big into paraphernalia, although the angels do counsel us to get outside in nature because we need fresh air; we need a bit of sunshine. Staying indoors gets us disconnected from the spirit. Beyond that, there are no candles or special prayers; it's more like having a conversation with best friends. You just think a thought, they give you their opinion, and you have free will to answer or not. I've learned from the angels, none of us has to put up with unnecessary suffering; we really can have more harmony in our lives.
What are some of the most meaningful moments you've had with angels?
I think with my youngest son, Grant, who's now 25. There was a while there when it seemed like he was going down a dark path. He was smoking cigarettes and drinking a lot of beer and sitting at home in front of the computer, all alone. I was really worried about him, so I prayed and prayed to the angels to please, please help him. Part of my prayer was that he would meet a really good woman and get back on the social path and clean up. And within three months of prayer, he met one of my angel therapists on my website. She lived in Australia. Together, they both quit smoking while talking long-distance, and they both cleaned up their diets (giving up beer), and he got back on the spiritual path. He began talking to angels and God again. Eventually, they got together, married, and they have a little girl now. That's one of the instances where I completely give credit to the angels.
I've also seen a lot of people heal their lives. One woman told me she had had this big split with her family; they hadn't spoken for years and she simply asked Archangel Michael to help heal that. She ended up having a complete reconciliation with her family and even more, she said her family changed before her very eyes and became more accessible. In truth, she said, she probably changed too. As a psychotherapist, I would have worked months to help people, but I've seen angels help in minutes.
How do you feel about the fact that you make money helping others connect with angels?
There's an old thought that people who are doing spiritual work shouldn't make money or should make minimum money. But, what I find is that people who make a lot of money, who are truly on a spiritual path, are actually the people who have donated the most to charities and are really helping on a big scale. I write really, really big checks to the charities I support. If we could lose that old-time belief, then we could have really pure-minded spiritual people owning radio stations, television stations, and big newspapers. People who are spiritual teachers and healers are kept impoverished; they are also kept from helping as many people as they can, in my mind.
What's your favorite prayer?
This is called the Lightworker's Prayer, from my book, The Lightworker's Way. It really helps me to reconnect and re-center.
Doreen Virtue's Favorite Prayer
I choose to stay centered in the awareness of love, God, and my true self. In the center, like the eye of a hurricane, all is tranquil, safe, and peaceful. My power, wisdom, and peace come from staying in the center and I ask for spiritual support from God and the angels to keep my mind aligned with truth. I now willingly detach from the material world knowing that by so doing, I can effectively help others. I trust God to provide my every need and I allow God's omnipotent wisdom to direct me in all ways. I accept a steady diet of love and joy, knowing that I deserve happiness and health. I willingly and lovingly release all ego judgments about myself and other people, knowing that everything I want comes from my decision to experience the wonders of all life. I know I am meant to be a healer and a teacher for God, and I now accept my mission fully without delay or reservation. I surrender all behaviors that will block me from hearing my inner voice, and I happily trust my inner guide to lead me along this way where I joyfully serve as an instrument of love. I release any doubts or fears I might have about fulfilling my divine mission, and I now command to staying aware of my inner voice for God. I know that this is the only tool I will ever need for my own healing and the healing of the world. Amen.
How can a skeptic learn to embrace angels? Plus, how to call on Archangel Michael for protection against negative energy.
Interview by Sherry Huang
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/194/stor ... mc_id=NL24
At a young age Doreen Virtue was clairvoyant, capable of seeing angels and other metaphysical beings. While her parents didn't encourage or discourage her psychic ability, she became a loner after being terribly teased by her peers. For years, Doreen rebuffed any contact from angels until she had a life-changing experience in 1995. Her newest book, Angels 101, is a guide for beginners who want to learn how to contact their heavenly helpers. She is currently on a "Goddesses and Angels" tour teaching about the "power of the angelic realm."
What was the turning point that made you publicly embrace angels?
I wanted to help people, so I became a psychotherapist specializing in eating disorders. But all this time, the angels were telling me that I was really supposed to be teaching about spiritual healing. I kept arguing, "No, no, no."
Then, on July 15, 1995, came the turning point. I was getting ready to go to a church in Anaheim, when I heard this loud, male voice at my right ear say, "You better put the top up on your car or it will be stolen." At the time, I was driving a convertible. I said to the angels, "I don't have time," and the angels didn't really argue.
I drove and prayed for protection. As I pulled into the parking lot, I felt this really creepy energy, as if someone poured negative paint on me. I started praying even harder. I got out of the car, and then I heard this male voice behind me, screaming and cursing: "You better f-ing give me your car keys." I turned around and there was this angry-looking guy who was much shorter than me. Doreen Virtue's Turning Point
I saw this glimmer of fear in him, even though he had a gun and a knife. I thought, "He's afraid," and I suddenly felt so safe. Then, I heard the angel's voice again, outside my right ear, saying: "Scream with all your might, Doreen."
And this was the breakthrough moment, because I hadn't listened to my angels in so long. I finally obeyed them—I screamed like a cave woman. And this woman who was in the parking lot heard my scream, and she leaned on her car horn to attract the people in the church to come out. Their presence scared the man and his accomplice away. I was shaking, but I got down on my knees in this greasy, oily parking lot just to thank God that my life had been spared. I thanked God and the angels for saving me.
When I went home, I started doing research on angel experiences. I asked God and the angels how I could repay them, and they told me the same thing they've been saying, which was for me to teach about mind-body-spirit. So the very next day, I "came out of the closet," so to speak. I was scheduled to give a talk in Las Vegas on eating disorders, and I chose to wear a long goddess gown and a crystal necklace; I was just myself. I started to tell my clients that I talked to angels. Even though I was afraid of what might happen, I decided to make a commitment to follow my divine guidance.
How can a complete beginner learn to contact angels?
The way to contact angels is to, first of all, feel comfortable with it. Say a prayer to whomever you are aligned with spiritually. If you're more of a traditional Christian, ask God and Jesus how they feel about it. You'll definitely get a confirmation that it's safe, but I think you should go with what your faith is and not defy it, because if you do, you'll feel afraid, which will cause a block in connecting with angels. The angels want to help you with everything that brings you peace, and they can only help you if you ask.
How can people let go of their cynicism?
To me, a skeptic is someone who is afraid of being disappointed. What they need to do is experiment, and ask for something simple like a taxicab at 5 o'clock on a Friday or a parking place in a crowded mall on a Saturday afternoon.
How can beginners contact angels but protect themselves against negative spirits? How do they know what's really communicating with them?
The best way to shield yourself from all negative energy, whether it's from people who are negative or spirits who are negative, is to call on Archangel Michael. He is completely non-denominational and has the ability to be with everyone who calls on him simultaneously without time or space restrictions. He is amazing. Calling on Archangel Michael
Mentally, just say: "Archangel Michael, I ask that you protect me from any lower or negative energy. And I ask that everyone who comes into contact with me be someone who is love-based and who is a gift from God." Now, if you ask him to do that, you might have a couple of people drop out of your life. He is what we call the "bouncer angel," like a night club angel. Also, he's the patron saint of police officers because he gives protection of all kinds—emotional, physical, and spiritual. He gives you courage, and a beginner would have this feeling of safety with Michael around.
How would people recognize Archangel Michael? What does he look like physically?
You'll first sense him as a feeling of peace and safety in your heart. He's got a real warm temperature, and you'll notice that your body starts to heat up. Some people actually begin to perspire when he shows up. I've noticed that in my workshops, when we invoke him, the sweaters come off and some women think they're having a hot flash.
What Does Michael Look Like?
If you go to a museum and look at pictures of Michael done by painters throughout time, they always picture him as very fit and shirtless, almost like a Chippendale dancer or a Harlequin romance cover. With his long, blonde hair and golden skin, he looks like a Nordic ski instructor. Six-pack abs, a sword. Michael's two colors are gold and also a bright blue or a bright purple.
How often do you contact angels?
All day long. It's like having a team of consultants with you or a sporting team and you just consult with them before you make any decisions. I wake up every morning, and my husband and I say a prayer asking God and the angels for whatever we need help with, and it just seems that everything goes smoother when we ask.
What are your personal favorite rituals for contacting angels? Do you meditate, stretch, or light candles?
You really don't need any special rituals. That's the neat thing about angels. I'm not big into paraphernalia, although the angels do counsel us to get outside in nature because we need fresh air; we need a bit of sunshine. Staying indoors gets us disconnected from the spirit. Beyond that, there are no candles or special prayers; it's more like having a conversation with best friends. You just think a thought, they give you their opinion, and you have free will to answer or not. I've learned from the angels, none of us has to put up with unnecessary suffering; we really can have more harmony in our lives.
What are some of the most meaningful moments you've had with angels?
I think with my youngest son, Grant, who's now 25. There was a while there when it seemed like he was going down a dark path. He was smoking cigarettes and drinking a lot of beer and sitting at home in front of the computer, all alone. I was really worried about him, so I prayed and prayed to the angels to please, please help him. Part of my prayer was that he would meet a really good woman and get back on the social path and clean up. And within three months of prayer, he met one of my angel therapists on my website. She lived in Australia. Together, they both quit smoking while talking long-distance, and they both cleaned up their diets (giving up beer), and he got back on the spiritual path. He began talking to angels and God again. Eventually, they got together, married, and they have a little girl now. That's one of the instances where I completely give credit to the angels.
I've also seen a lot of people heal their lives. One woman told me she had had this big split with her family; they hadn't spoken for years and she simply asked Archangel Michael to help heal that. She ended up having a complete reconciliation with her family and even more, she said her family changed before her very eyes and became more accessible. In truth, she said, she probably changed too. As a psychotherapist, I would have worked months to help people, but I've seen angels help in minutes.
How do you feel about the fact that you make money helping others connect with angels?
There's an old thought that people who are doing spiritual work shouldn't make money or should make minimum money. But, what I find is that people who make a lot of money, who are truly on a spiritual path, are actually the people who have donated the most to charities and are really helping on a big scale. I write really, really big checks to the charities I support. If we could lose that old-time belief, then we could have really pure-minded spiritual people owning radio stations, television stations, and big newspapers. People who are spiritual teachers and healers are kept impoverished; they are also kept from helping as many people as they can, in my mind.
What's your favorite prayer?
This is called the Lightworker's Prayer, from my book, The Lightworker's Way. It really helps me to reconnect and re-center.
Doreen Virtue's Favorite Prayer
I choose to stay centered in the awareness of love, God, and my true self. In the center, like the eye of a hurricane, all is tranquil, safe, and peaceful. My power, wisdom, and peace come from staying in the center and I ask for spiritual support from God and the angels to keep my mind aligned with truth. I now willingly detach from the material world knowing that by so doing, I can effectively help others. I trust God to provide my every need and I allow God's omnipotent wisdom to direct me in all ways. I accept a steady diet of love and joy, knowing that I deserve happiness and health. I willingly and lovingly release all ego judgments about myself and other people, knowing that everything I want comes from my decision to experience the wonders of all life. I know I am meant to be a healer and a teacher for God, and I now accept my mission fully without delay or reservation. I surrender all behaviors that will block me from hearing my inner voice, and I happily trust my inner guide to lead me along this way where I joyfully serve as an instrument of love. I release any doubts or fears I might have about fulfilling my divine mission, and I now command to staying aware of my inner voice for God. I know that this is the only tool I will ever need for my own healing and the healing of the world. Amen.
God's Pet Care
Would God send an angel to recover a beloved lost dog?
By Joan Wester Anderson
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/103/stor ... mc_id=NL24
Reprinted with permission from Joan Wester Anderson's website. This story originally appeared on Beliefnet in 2002.
Renee Dotson was running uncharacteristically late as she rounded up her children for their tae kwan do lessons. Their Plano, Texas home featured a six-foot-tall privacy fence around the back yard, and Renee had forgotten that the family's miniature Schnauzer, Lucky, was still out there. (Usually they brought him in when everyone left at the same time.) Worse, one of the children had inadvertently left the back gate open. Unaware, Renee herded the children into the truck and set off. They were gone for over an hour.
"The back gate opens onto an alley, and whenever it's left open, Lucky always runs out of the yard and gets lost," Renee says. "So when we returned home and I pulled up to the curb at the front of the house, I was surprised to see Lucky sitting quietly in front of the house next to the fence." But there was another surprise too.
A girl about ten years old was standing right next to Lucky, holding a golden leash attached to the dog's collar.
"The girl was dressed in old-fashioned garb, a blue dress with a white pinafore, which hung just below her knees," Renee says. "She wore white stockings, and some sort of locket around her neck. The dress was trimmed with white lace at the neck and sleeves. She had long thick blonde hair that hung to her waist, and there was a white glow about her." Renee stared. She had never seen such a person in her neighborhood. Had the girl found Lucky and brought him home? But how would she know where he lived? And where had the leash come from?
Questions bouncing around in her head, Renee took her eyes off the scene to finish parking. When she looked over again, the girl was gone. "But the dog was still sitting there, with the leash not only still attached to his collar, but still somehow suspended in mid-air!"
The family got out of the truck and walked towards Lucky. "Usually he would be bounding towards us, but he was still sitting there, watching us approach," says Renee.
The leash had disappeared, but when Renee got within five feet of the dog, she heard a girl's voice. "It's okay, Lucky," the voice said. "You can go now." Instantly the dog began to jump all over the children.
"The kids never saw the girl," Renee says. "But I did. It couldn't have been my imagination because I had no inkling the dog was even in danger." Renee thanked the girl that night, because without her, the family would have lost their beloved pet. "She didn't have wings or a halo, but I've never been able to think of her without feeling that she was an angel."
Would God care about the loss of a pet? Enough to send an angel to prevent it? This is the same God who tells us that "every hair on your head is numbered." A God of details. A God who cares.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Postscript from Renee: "We had to put Lucky down last year....He was 8 years old at the time. He had gotten into a scuffle with a toad, and began developing weird neurological symptoms, eventually resulting in seizures. We went into the vet as a family. I had my hand on Lucky when the injection was given, and I physically felt his spirit, as soft and warm as a cloud, lift from his body through my hand and part of my arm, towards the ceiling. Because of this, I knew he was gone before the vet did, and it really hit home with me that our souls have physical substance."
Would God send an angel to recover a beloved lost dog?
By Joan Wester Anderson
http://www.beliefnet.com/story/103/stor ... mc_id=NL24
Reprinted with permission from Joan Wester Anderson's website. This story originally appeared on Beliefnet in 2002.
Renee Dotson was running uncharacteristically late as she rounded up her children for their tae kwan do lessons. Their Plano, Texas home featured a six-foot-tall privacy fence around the back yard, and Renee had forgotten that the family's miniature Schnauzer, Lucky, was still out there. (Usually they brought him in when everyone left at the same time.) Worse, one of the children had inadvertently left the back gate open. Unaware, Renee herded the children into the truck and set off. They were gone for over an hour.
"The back gate opens onto an alley, and whenever it's left open, Lucky always runs out of the yard and gets lost," Renee says. "So when we returned home and I pulled up to the curb at the front of the house, I was surprised to see Lucky sitting quietly in front of the house next to the fence." But there was another surprise too.
A girl about ten years old was standing right next to Lucky, holding a golden leash attached to the dog's collar.
"The girl was dressed in old-fashioned garb, a blue dress with a white pinafore, which hung just below her knees," Renee says. "She wore white stockings, and some sort of locket around her neck. The dress was trimmed with white lace at the neck and sleeves. She had long thick blonde hair that hung to her waist, and there was a white glow about her." Renee stared. She had never seen such a person in her neighborhood. Had the girl found Lucky and brought him home? But how would she know where he lived? And where had the leash come from?
Questions bouncing around in her head, Renee took her eyes off the scene to finish parking. When she looked over again, the girl was gone. "But the dog was still sitting there, with the leash not only still attached to his collar, but still somehow suspended in mid-air!"
The family got out of the truck and walked towards Lucky. "Usually he would be bounding towards us, but he was still sitting there, watching us approach," says Renee.
The leash had disappeared, but when Renee got within five feet of the dog, she heard a girl's voice. "It's okay, Lucky," the voice said. "You can go now." Instantly the dog began to jump all over the children.
"The kids never saw the girl," Renee says. "But I did. It couldn't have been my imagination because I had no inkling the dog was even in danger." Renee thanked the girl that night, because without her, the family would have lost their beloved pet. "She didn't have wings or a halo, but I've never been able to think of her without feeling that she was an angel."
Would God care about the loss of a pet? Enough to send an angel to prevent it? This is the same God who tells us that "every hair on your head is numbered." A God of details. A God who cares.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Postscript from Renee: "We had to put Lucky down last year....He was 8 years old at the time. He had gotten into a scuffle with a toad, and began developing weird neurological symptoms, eventually resulting in seizures. We went into the vet as a family. I had my hand on Lucky when the injection was given, and I physically felt his spirit, as soft and warm as a cloud, lift from his body through my hand and part of my arm, towards the ceiling. Because of this, I knew he was gone before the vet did, and it really hit home with me that our souls have physical substance."
Angels in Jewish Tradition
What the Hebrew scriptures and commentaries say about the role of heavenly creatures in a monotheistic faith.
Why in the world do we need angels?
Angels seem not to fit inside a monotheistic faith. God can presumably accomplish anything, so what is the function of an angel? If they are doing God's bidding, they are unnecessary, and if they are opposing God, then how can any heavenly creature thwart the will of an omnipotent God? Jewish teachings about angels are ancient, going back to the first five books of the Bible, the Torah. Cherubim with flaming swords guard the gates of Eden after Adam and Eve are banished (Gen. 3). An angel arrives to tell Abraham he and Sarah will have a child (Gen. 18) and then an angel stays Abraham's hand when he is about to sacrifice that child (Gen. 22). It is an angel who saves Hagar and Ishmael in the desert (Gen. 21), appears to Moses out of the burning bush (Ex. 3), and announces to Samson's mother to be that she is to have an exceptional child (Judges 13). This list is but a sampling of the angelology of the Bible.
God's intermediaries
Why do angels play such a prominent role in Jewish tradition? Some medieval Jewish commentators propose that angels are necessary because they perform tasks that are beneath the dignity of God's "personal involvement." Others, mostly moderns who understand heavenly agents as a way of giving God "cover," assume that angels permit God to distance Himself, in a way, from certain deeds or obligations. But part of the allure of angels is also the colorful and humanly compelling notion of a representative of God who is more humanlike, and therefore more approachable in imagination. For example, as outlandishly otherworldly as Ezekiel's description of angels may seem to us, with its depiction of four faces, animal countenances, four wings, wheels with eyes, fire, and so on, it is still more understandable than a God one cannot see. (For the full fantastic depiction, see Ezekiel 1).
The Hebrew word for angel, "mal'ach," means messenger. One traditional portrait of angels is as functionaries who carry out God's will. The rabbis declare that "wherever the angel appears the shechina (the divine Presence) appears (Exodus Rabbah 32:9)." Angels are used to give God distance from the action. Since it is too anthropomorphic (that is, giving God human characteristics) to have God wrestle with Jacob, an angel serves the purpose (Gen. 28).
Angels are God's entourage. In the famous scene of Isaiah 6, God is seated on a throne with the angelic host arrayed on the right and the left. But developing hints from the Bible, later Jewish literature ascribes to the angels their own characteristics and personalities. Angels often appear in the apocryphal literature, books written by ancient Jews which were not made part of the Bible, such as the books of the Maccabees. In that literature and the Pseudepigrapha--literature written in the name of an ancient and important character--angels grow in stature. Enoch 3 explains function of various angels in a long list (e.g., "Ram'amiel, who is in charge of thunder; Ra'asiel, who is in charge of earthquakes; Shalgiel, who is in charge of snow" and so forth). Apocalyptic writing, which deals with the end of days, is filled with the doings of angels. The same is true of the Dead Sea Scrolls where, for example, The Manual of Discipline speaks of an angel of light and an angel of darkness.
Although these texts did not become normative in the Jewish tradition, they do reflect what ancient Jews were teaching and learning. And many of the views in texts that did not become part of the Bible endure in rabbinic literature.
Judaism is given shape by the writings of the rabbis. The Talmud, rabbinic commentary encompassing both Jewish law and legend written in the years between 50 BCE and 600 CE, is full of speculations and stories about angels. In rabbinic literature, angels sometimes show a little independence of mind. They even argue with God, making a persuasive case that human beings should not be created. The angels argue that people will commit offenses against truth and peace. Since the angels' arguments are not refutable--human beings do indeed sin continually against both truth and peace--God dashes truth to the ground, and creates human beings in spite of their deficiencies (Genesis Rabbah 8:5).
Angels of folklore
Jewish folklore sees angels as guardians. A famous passage reproduced in many prayerbooks asks for the aid of Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, and Raphael. Each has a certain guiding function, although their roles vary. Michael, "Merciful and forbearing" commander in chief of angelic host, is guardian of Israel. Raphael is the healing angel. Gabriel is the master of courage. Uriel is the angel of light, whose name means "God is my light." The Rabbis teach that two angels, one good and one bad, follow us home on Shabbat. If all is prepared--candles, challah, wine--the good angel exclaims: "May it be this way next Shabbat as well" and the bad angel responds, "Amen." If the house is not prepared, the bad angel exclaims: "May it be this way next Shabbat" and the good angel, in spite of himself, says, "Amen."(Shabbat 119b). We may think of ritual observances as the force of habit, but the rabbis portray it as the force of angels.
Some angels are less beneficent of course, and Jewish tradition is filled as well with dybbuks and demons, and the omnipresent angel of death. Again the theological aim is to distance God from the devastating consequences of tragedy. The Bible depicts God as slaying the first born in Egypt, but rabbinic tradition has long assured us that it was not God directly, but the "mal'ach hamavet"--the angel of death.
Ultimately however, angels have an ancillary role. In both the Bible and later literature, Judaism insists God is initiator and arbiter of what happens here on earth. Rabbi Judan teaches in the Talmud that God wishes to be directly addressed: "If trouble comes upon someone, let him cry not to Michael or Gabriel, but let him cry unto Me (Jerusalem Talmud Berachot 9:12)." As Jews recite each year during Passover: "And the Lord brought us out from Egypt--not by an angel, not by a seraph (fiery angel), and not by a messenger, but the Holy One alone..."
What the Hebrew scriptures and commentaries say about the role of heavenly creatures in a monotheistic faith.
Why in the world do we need angels?
Angels seem not to fit inside a monotheistic faith. God can presumably accomplish anything, so what is the function of an angel? If they are doing God's bidding, they are unnecessary, and if they are opposing God, then how can any heavenly creature thwart the will of an omnipotent God? Jewish teachings about angels are ancient, going back to the first five books of the Bible, the Torah. Cherubim with flaming swords guard the gates of Eden after Adam and Eve are banished (Gen. 3). An angel arrives to tell Abraham he and Sarah will have a child (Gen. 18) and then an angel stays Abraham's hand when he is about to sacrifice that child (Gen. 22). It is an angel who saves Hagar and Ishmael in the desert (Gen. 21), appears to Moses out of the burning bush (Ex. 3), and announces to Samson's mother to be that she is to have an exceptional child (Judges 13). This list is but a sampling of the angelology of the Bible.
God's intermediaries
Why do angels play such a prominent role in Jewish tradition? Some medieval Jewish commentators propose that angels are necessary because they perform tasks that are beneath the dignity of God's "personal involvement." Others, mostly moderns who understand heavenly agents as a way of giving God "cover," assume that angels permit God to distance Himself, in a way, from certain deeds or obligations. But part of the allure of angels is also the colorful and humanly compelling notion of a representative of God who is more humanlike, and therefore more approachable in imagination. For example, as outlandishly otherworldly as Ezekiel's description of angels may seem to us, with its depiction of four faces, animal countenances, four wings, wheels with eyes, fire, and so on, it is still more understandable than a God one cannot see. (For the full fantastic depiction, see Ezekiel 1).
The Hebrew word for angel, "mal'ach," means messenger. One traditional portrait of angels is as functionaries who carry out God's will. The rabbis declare that "wherever the angel appears the shechina (the divine Presence) appears (Exodus Rabbah 32:9)." Angels are used to give God distance from the action. Since it is too anthropomorphic (that is, giving God human characteristics) to have God wrestle with Jacob, an angel serves the purpose (Gen. 28).
Angels are God's entourage. In the famous scene of Isaiah 6, God is seated on a throne with the angelic host arrayed on the right and the left. But developing hints from the Bible, later Jewish literature ascribes to the angels their own characteristics and personalities. Angels often appear in the apocryphal literature, books written by ancient Jews which were not made part of the Bible, such as the books of the Maccabees. In that literature and the Pseudepigrapha--literature written in the name of an ancient and important character--angels grow in stature. Enoch 3 explains function of various angels in a long list (e.g., "Ram'amiel, who is in charge of thunder; Ra'asiel, who is in charge of earthquakes; Shalgiel, who is in charge of snow" and so forth). Apocalyptic writing, which deals with the end of days, is filled with the doings of angels. The same is true of the Dead Sea Scrolls where, for example, The Manual of Discipline speaks of an angel of light and an angel of darkness.
Although these texts did not become normative in the Jewish tradition, they do reflect what ancient Jews were teaching and learning. And many of the views in texts that did not become part of the Bible endure in rabbinic literature.
Judaism is given shape by the writings of the rabbis. The Talmud, rabbinic commentary encompassing both Jewish law and legend written in the years between 50 BCE and 600 CE, is full of speculations and stories about angels. In rabbinic literature, angels sometimes show a little independence of mind. They even argue with God, making a persuasive case that human beings should not be created. The angels argue that people will commit offenses against truth and peace. Since the angels' arguments are not refutable--human beings do indeed sin continually against both truth and peace--God dashes truth to the ground, and creates human beings in spite of their deficiencies (Genesis Rabbah 8:5).
Angels of folklore
Jewish folklore sees angels as guardians. A famous passage reproduced in many prayerbooks asks for the aid of Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, and Raphael. Each has a certain guiding function, although their roles vary. Michael, "Merciful and forbearing" commander in chief of angelic host, is guardian of Israel. Raphael is the healing angel. Gabriel is the master of courage. Uriel is the angel of light, whose name means "God is my light." The Rabbis teach that two angels, one good and one bad, follow us home on Shabbat. If all is prepared--candles, challah, wine--the good angel exclaims: "May it be this way next Shabbat as well" and the bad angel responds, "Amen." If the house is not prepared, the bad angel exclaims: "May it be this way next Shabbat" and the good angel, in spite of himself, says, "Amen."(Shabbat 119b). We may think of ritual observances as the force of habit, but the rabbis portray it as the force of angels.
Some angels are less beneficent of course, and Jewish tradition is filled as well with dybbuks and demons, and the omnipresent angel of death. Again the theological aim is to distance God from the devastating consequences of tragedy. The Bible depicts God as slaying the first born in Egypt, but rabbinic tradition has long assured us that it was not God directly, but the "mal'ach hamavet"--the angel of death.
Ultimately however, angels have an ancillary role. In both the Bible and later literature, Judaism insists God is initiator and arbiter of what happens here on earth. Rabbi Judan teaches in the Talmud that God wishes to be directly addressed: "If trouble comes upon someone, let him cry not to Michael or Gabriel, but let him cry unto Me (Jerusalem Talmud Berachot 9:12)." As Jews recite each year during Passover: "And the Lord brought us out from Egypt--not by an angel, not by a seraph (fiery angel), and not by a messenger, but the Holy One alone..."