My Angels

beautiful-angelSo, as I said in the beginning of this journey through Angel’s Letters I have my own angel experiences. I have shared them before, but here they are again.
 
        When I was about 5 or 6 we lived in Gainesville, Fla. Although I had plenty of friends one particular afternoon I was on my own  – Mom was in the kitchen, Dad was at work and my sister was off with her friends. It was a warmish day so I crawled under the small brick house to get cool. I don’t remember how I got started but I ended up with some matches and started burning  foam rubber under the house. I had no clue how dangerous it was – I just remember thinking how ‘neat’ it looked burning. Then I heard someone call my name – very clearly – I stopped what I was doing for a moment and listened. When I heard nothing, I kept on striking matches and burning the material. Then I heard my name, again, this time, louder and more firmly. I knew I was in trouble then. I put the matches out and ran inside to the kitchen asking mom what she wanted; she said she hadn’t called me. I told her yes, she had, because I had heard her. She said she hadn’t. I went back outside, sat on the back steps and wondered who it was that called my name.
       
        This occurrence happened much later, when I was driving home as a young adult. I was sitting in my car at a stop light, waiting for the green. When the light turned green, I proceeded normally into the intersection to make a left hand turn. Suddenly my car stopped dead – it was if a giant hand stopped the car from going forward – a split second later another car ran a red light and flew past me at high speed. Had my car continued making the left turn, the speeding car would have plowed into me.
 
        When I was in my early 30s I suffered through severe depression for several years. I was in counseling but it didn’t seem to do any good. One night I was home alone and I started falling deeper and deeper into what I called the Abyss – so deep that while I had always kept suicide in the back of my mind, it moved to the front. I started thinking of how I would do it. Knife? Meds? Hanging?  Deeper and deeper I went – until I made up my mind to do it – it was the only way to release the pain I was going through. At that moment, the darkest moment of my life, the phone rang. I didn’t want to get it – but it rang and rang and rang. I finally got up and answered it. It was a friend who was particularly chatty that night and talked and talked and talked, eventually making me laugh. When I hung up the phone more than an hour later, I realized how close I had come to dying. And I thanked God for the friend who called me that night – for the friend who was an angel to me (although she didn’t know it) and reminded me I was Loved.
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Life is like a path …

angel lettersLife is like a path, and we all have to walk the path. If we lay down, we can lay down on the path. If we live through the night, we have to get up and start walking down the path again. As we walk down that path we’ll find experiences like little scraps of paper in front of us along the way. We must pick up these pieces of scrap paper and put them in our pockets . . .  Then, one day, we will have enough scraps of papers to put together and see what they say. Maybe we’ll have enough to make some sense. . . . Read … then put the pieces back in that pocket and go on, because there will be more pieces to pick up.  –U.F.D., Pawnee
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A Fragile Hope

angel lettersWe come now to the end of these accounts, the fallen leaves drifting on the waters of our mind, the angel’s letters that have come—and are gone as instantly—like whispers. Were they really there? How is it we have nothing now to show for them except a sense of grace, a fragile hope, the knowledge of our unity, and a sweet shiver passing over us, all because these letters, beckoning us to higher states, carry the signature of God?
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