Saved by an Angel (28 page)

The next evening, I returned home to Arizona, and I had my first dream encounter with angels. The two angels in my dream were very tall. They were white, with gold light emanating from their wings and bodies. I got the impression that they were very strong male angels. I only recall the face of one of them, and it was dimmed by the shine of the gold light coming off him.

Many weeks later, in another dream, the same two angels told me I needed to fly to Dad’s hospital in Temple, Texas, in the morning. The words I heard didn’t actually come from their lips, as much as I had “knowing” what they were communicating.

Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. I wasn’t even sure why I was leaving in the morning, and neither was my husband. I contacted someone to watch my children, and then I was off. When I arrived at the hospital, I found my mother on a pay phone making a call to tell me that my father had brain cancer and they were to operate in the next few days. She would have been all alone if I hadn’t flown in.

My father had the surgery, and it was worse than we had anticipated. The doctors said he wouldn’t survive much more than two to four months. That night the angels came again. This time, they asked me move with my children from Arizona to Dad’s home in Oklahoma for the summer. The doctors hadn’t even mentioned the next steps they would like to take, and the thought of a long hot summer in Oklahoma was anything but pleasant. Plus, I had been abused by this man as a child, and I wasn’t really sure that I wanted to give him the loving support I felt I had missed out on.

The next morning, the doctors informed us that we had two options: take Dad home and let him die within two months, or put him in a nursing home and do chemo and hope for four months. I knew what my answer was, so I told my mom, “See you in Oklahoma. I’ll get my children and fly there and set the house up.”

The following months were like spending time in a personal group-therapy program. I spent hours releasing past ills by asking Dad questions about his earlier behavior. I would never have gotten the answers and the healing that accompanied them had I not followed the angels’ guidance.

Toward the end of the two months, my husband and I decided to go on a vacation with our children. We headed to the beach for a wonderful and much-needed rest. However, one night during our vacation, the angels came to me in my dreams again. They told me I needed to go back to Oklahoma in the morning. When I called my mom to let her know I would be coming, she told me that Dad had gone into a coma that night.

I arrived in Oklahoma the next day. That night, for the first time in the entire two months I had been in Oklahoma, my sister, my mother, and I were all together. All at once, the room seemed to change. A feeling of great energy filled the area around us, and Dad passed on.

I can’t tell you why I followed the angels’ guidance. Until that time, I never remember hearing from them. The gift I received from them was priceless, though. I picked up pieces of a soul that I desperately needed. I reconnected with a man whom I had been very angry with for a long time. Now I think of him with great love and affection and find that I even thank him for the childhood I had. I was helped by God and the angels to learn what an important person I was, and that my challenging beginnings made me the loving individual I am today.

T
HE
G
OLDEN
C
ORD
by Gerborg Frick

Three years ago, I participated in a workshop and was eventually initiated as a Reiki master. During the final ceremony, we were encouraged to meditate and contemplate our individual Reiki guardian. An angel appeared to me with shoulder-length blond hair, wearing a flowing garment with a golden cord around the waist. I could not distinguish the face or gender. The angel was very tall, at least seven feet.

At the end of the meditation hour, everyone was asked to share their experience. Heather from Pennsylvania spoke first, and she described “my” angel in detail, saying, “The angel had a golden sash around the middle.” At this point I was thinking,
No, it’s not a sash; it’s a cord,
and Heather instantly corrected herself and said, “Actually, it was a golden cord.”

The group asked about the wings. We both gave our impression of the angels’ wings, with the conclusion that they had nothing to do with feathers or flying, but were emanations of arched energy flowing in pastel rainbow colors. The astounding thing was that we both seemed to have encountered the same type of angel!

M
Y
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EUNION WITH
D
AD
by Shirley Finch

My father lived in Idaho, and I lived in California. Dad called me late one night in April of 1979. He was crying, and he pleaded with me to come visit him and bring my two little girls before it was too late.

I said, “Oh, Dad, I’ll be there in June when the girls get out of school.”

He said, “It will be too late.”

I talked with my dad for a while, and he kept on begging me to come. I asked if he was sick, and he said he wasn’t, but he just knew that it would be too late.

One month later, my sister called me with the terrible news of Dad’s death. My father passed away in a horrific auto accident while hunting with my two older brothers. I was stunned, and my phone conversation with Dad kept replaying in my mind. I was sick about it, and I chastised myself for not going.

My mother told me that, prior to the accident, Dad had been getting his things in order because he knew it was his “time.” My mother thought he was crazy to say such a thing. My brothers said that the night before the accident, Dad had told them, “If I go tonight, I just want you to know how much I love you.” Hours later, he was dead.

In June of 1986, I was shot with a .38 semiautomatic weapon. The bullet went through my left arm, through my lung, and then lodged in my spine. I “died” in the ambulance. The paramedics gave me CPR and a shot of adrenaline through the heart.

While I was “gone,” I was traveling in this very dark space. I’m not sure if I was traveling up, down, sideways, or where. There was a little light. The closer I got, the bigger the light got. When I reached it, my dad was standing there. I was in the dark, getting ready to walk toward him because I was so happy to see him. I missed him so much! Then he said, “You’re not supposed to be here now.”

I said, “That’s okay. I’m happy to see you.” I wanted so badly to go to him and give him a hug, but my feet wouldn’t budge. I could not step into the light.

In a stern voice, my dad said, “No! Go home. Your kids need you.” At that moment, I opened my eyes, and my mother was in the emergency room holding my hand.

These experiences have changed me forever. Now, I live every day as if it were my last. I still make plans and have goals to look forward to, but I make an extra effort to be nice to everybody. I tell my family and friends that I love them and that I always will. And I help strangers in need. I have developed a caring heart, thanks to my experiences.

T
HE
D
AY
I C
HOSE TO
L
IVE
by Maryne Hachey

I was 16, and like most girls that age, I was on top of my game, leaving my ego to rule my world. I was moping around the house when my best friend called me and asked if I wanted to go for a drive to pick up her boyfriend’s friend; enthusiastically, I agreed. A short time later, I arrived at her house, where we teased and back-combed our hair and dressed in long pencil skirts and jean jackets. Her much older boyfriend picked us up in his Audi, with a bottle of apricot brandy.

With music blaring and the sweet nectar clouding my mind, I began losing my inhibitions. This was against everything I had ever stood for, yet here I was in a car with someone who was driving under the influence. My stomach churned as an uneasiness warned me that this was not in my best interests … I couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen.

We finally arrived at our destination and started packing the friend’s gear into the car. Seeing the state we were all in, he insisted on driving. In that moment, relief washed over me. As I grabbed the brandy and raised the bottle to my lips, taking in a big swallow, the uneasy feeling returned. This time I assumed it was the company of the boy we’d picked up.

I remember glancing down at my watch and panicking that it was already 10 o’clock and I was nowhere near the city limits, certain I was going to miss my 10:30 curfew. My friend was now in the backseat, making out with her boyfriend. Feeling the ill effects of the warmth coming from the heater, I removed my jacket, for fear I was going to throw up. I turned sideways, resting my head on my seat, forgetting to replace the seat belt I had removed.

My last conscious thought was of watching the heavy snowflakes fall against the windshield, making it impossible to see the highway. My body relaxed as I allowed sleep to take over… .

“Is she dead?” a voice called out above me, yet I couldn’t respond.

Fear gripped my soul as I tried to moved but couldn’t. “I’m here; I’m alive!” I cried out, unsure if this was a bad dream or my current reality.

Once again I was gone; my next memory was of pain coursing through my 92-pound frame as a man stood over me asking me my name, over and over. I answered him.
Can’t he understand English?
I thought in my sarcastic teenage mind.

Blackness filled my awareness as I drifted through time, meeting people who weren’t there. Although they talked to me meaningfully, I couldn’t quite hear what they were saying.

Then the pain returned. When I opened my eyes, a man in a blue scrubs explained that they were going to put me in “traction.” I remember being strapped down, feeling the screw being placed through my knee for stabilization.

This time I was surrounded by white light and filled with a sense of peace as I watched everyone from slightly above my body. I was finally warm and had no pain. Beside me was a man who introduced himself as Dr. Ray. He had blue eyes and curly black hair. He seemed to be floating with me. I was comforted by his presence.

I watched as they worked frantically to revive my lifeless body. Dr. Ray turned to me and said, “You’re a lucky little girl; you have many people who love you here.” I looked at him wonderingly as he continued: “What would you like to do?”

His question threw me back into reality as my soul cried out,
Oh God, please don’t let me die!
In that moment I felt my body hit the table hard as the pain once again returned.

I opened my eyes and looked around for Dr. Ray, but he was gone. I repeatedly asked for him, but I was told he had never been there. The date was March 31, 1989, and I was forever changed.