Saved by an Angel (39 page)

Chapter 14

S
IGNS FROM
A
BOVE

T
HE
L
ITTLE
C
ROSS
by Tuihana Marsh

A couple of months ago, I went to pick my daughter up from her friend’s house after school, which was our normal routine. When I pulled into the driveway, she ran out of the house and jumped into the truck. I asked her about her friend’s new dog and if she could bring it out so I could see it. She told me that the dog wasn’t allowed outside because it was wet and I should go in and have a look.

I hesitated … I had a weird feeling, but I couldn’t place it. I ended up jumping out to go knock on the front door. While my back was turned, the pickup rolled down the driveway, which was on a hill. On its way out onto the road, it hit another car; then, as I ran after it, it went straight across the road up onto the opposite sidewalk and hit a street sign, cutting it clean in half. Finally it stopped, after rolling back onto the road in front of traffic. (The circumstances could not have been worse, as it was rush hour, on a main road, and it was raining.)

The most dangerous part of the whole thing was that the passenger side of the vehicle, where my daughter was sitting, was facing the oncoming traffic. The whole time this was happening my poor girl was sitting paralyzed, unsure of what to do, as she rolled away from me!

All the cars swerved in the rain or skidded to a stop … no one was hurt! After all the drama with the owner of the hit vehicle subsided, we finally left the scene. As we got back into the truck, we both noticed a little cross sitting by the gearshift. Everything else that was in the pickup had been thrown clear to the back of the vehicle or under the seats … but this little cross sat perfectly in place, as if it had been deliberately set there.

The night before, I had been flipping through one of Doreen’s books (I think it was
My Guardian Angel
) and skimmed over a couple of stories about vehicle angels and how you should ask for protection before getting into a car. In the morning, I kept flashing back to the things I had read, and I had intended to stop and ask the angels to watch over my girl while she was at school, but kept getting sidetracked and never did it.

When the accident happened, I was so furious with myself. I should have known to pay attention to the stories from the night before, my urge to ask for protection in the morning, and the odd feeling I had before jumping out of the truck … but I’d brushed it all off.

I never said anything about this to my daughter. I was too busy reproaching myself for how careless I had been—how I should have spoken to her at some point about how to pull on the hand brake, stomp on the brake pedal, or turn the steering wheel! All I could think was:
If I had only taken the time to stop and ask that my daughter be protected, this would not have happened.

In the middle of my thoughts, my daughter piped up: “I know the only reason I’m okay is because the angels were looking after me!”

She was right. I had been too busy blaming myself to see that all was well and yes, the angels
had
looked after my baby anyway! We both feel that the little cross was telling us this very clearly.

That’s my experience of the angels saving my daughter—who is the love of my life—and teaching me a thing or two in the process!

A
N
A
NGEL
W
HO
D
ESCENDED FROM THE
C
LOUDS
by Susan Moore

My grandmother was in the hospital for major heart surgery, with a 50-50 chance of survival. After surgery, she never woke up from the anesthesia, and she was in a coma for two weeks. I lived about 90 minutes away from the hospital, and I visited her every other day with my mother. One particular day, though, I didn’t want to make the long drive to the hospital, so I stayed home. I was horrified when Grandma passed away at 5
A.M.
the next day. This really bothered me, because I didn’t get to see her one final time.

That evening, I went into the kitchen in the dark, looking out the back door. I said aloud, “Why did you leave me? I didn’t get to say good-bye or even give you one last kiss!” I started to cry again … then something caught my attention.

I saw this funnel-shaped cloud come down from the sky. It almost looked like a tornado was heading my way. Then this funnel cloud started to take shape, and I stood mesmerized as it turned into a beautiful woman! She had long white hair and a long white dress on, with some sort of rope tied around her waist.

Then she started to reach out with her arms and float toward me. She was suspended about five feet off the ground, and she was about six feet tall. When she lifted her arms, her long sleeves were hanging and flapping in the wind. Once she got about three feet in front of me, I took off! I was petrified, so I ran to get my husband to come see this. I knew that no one would believe me, so I wanted him to witness this amazing sight.

When I finally got him, though, she was gone, and the only thing left was a thick fog sitting about two feet above the ground. Then we looked at our neighbors’ homes, and we were the only house with fog in the backyard. I truly believe that this was an angel coming to let me know that my grandmother was okay and in a better place. I often wonder what would have happened if I had stayed to see the angel instead of running. It has been five years since this happened, and I can still see the vision in my mind as if it happened yesterday.

T
HE
P
URPLE
-H
AIRED
A
NGEL
by Leanne Hernandez

My grandmother died in 1998, shortly before my daughter’s fifth birthday. In her younger days, my grandmother was known for being quite eccentric—she had even dyed her hair lavender for many years.

I was out of town on a business trip, so my mother helped me get ready for my daughter’s birthday party by ordering a cake with a brunette angel on it. When she went to pick it up, she was amazed to find that the baker had used lavender icing for the angel’s hair. My mother asked, “Who ever heard of an angel with purple hair?” I knew that this was my grandmother’s way of telling us that she had made it to heaven and was with us in spirit to celebrate my daughter’s special day.

S
AFE AND
S
OUND
by Suzanne Chaney

My husband and I were driving in a small rental car from Kentucky to New York City. The first part of the trip was very nice and quite scenic. But as we started nearing the peaks of the Appalachians, the skies grew increasingly more ominous. Soon we were driving in heavy snow, on slick roads. We slowed our pace to a crawl, but large semitrucks kept blowing past us, and the wind they created pushed us all over the road. The sides of the roads were marked with N
O
S
TOPPING
signs, so we continued as best we could. We were incredibly scared.

At that time, I said a prayer for God to send angels to help us on our journey, to bless those driving with good judgment, and to protect us from danger. Immediately after raising my head from the prayer, I looked out my window at the storm clouds.

In the midst of the dark, looming sky was one bright white cloud in the shape of an angel’s face. It also had glowing, luminescent wings. The sun peeked above the edges of this cloud so that it shone brightly, with beams of bright light shooting from its edges. My eyes swelled with tears, and I knew that my prayer had been answered.

We spent two more hours traveling on the snow-slicked roads, but it was an entirely different experience. The semis’ wind no longer seemed to affect our car. Throughout the two-hour period, I continued to glimpse angels in the clouds, but nothing as brilliant as the first sighting.

The clouds seemed to be a sign from the angels, saying, “We’re still here with you.” The fear left my heart. We arrived safely in New York City several hours later, and despite the grueling drive, I felt invigorated and light, like everything in the world was right. Such a glorious gift we received!

T
HE
C
OMFORTING
A
NGEL
C
LOUD
by Rebecca Powers

My father was dying of cancer. It was near the end, and we had him at home, comfortable and in no pain. He was comatose, but I knew that he was aware we were with him. I was having a hard time dealing with the whole “death” thing, and I was afraid for him—afraid of what he was feeling, and of what he was about to go through. I wanted to make sure he would be okay and not be alone, but I needed some sort of answer, some sort of sign. I had none, and I was afraid.

It was a typical October night, and my family and I were waiting—
praying—
for the end. I went out on the front step to get some fresh air. I sat down and said a little prayer. I pleaded, “Please, please, give me some sort of sign, any sign, just so I’ll know he’ll be okay.”