Saved by an Angel

by Virtue Doreen

  I had a dream about being at a festival or ceremony in Burma. My mother-in-law’s grandmother was there. She was a small, dark, elegant Burmese lady in ceremonial dress. I had been watching the festivities, when she came up to me and gave me a Buddhist blessing.

  There was someone, a Western woman, sitting farther down from me asking no one in particular what they were doing, in an ignorant kind of way. Grandmother Nat-thamé (a high Buddhist rank she attained) took my face in her hands and said to me, “Don’t try to explain it to them; they won’t understand.”

  She poured so much love on me that I didn’t want her to go when the dream ended soon after. I said, “I love you; don’t go!”

  I woke up in the morning, still with the overwhelming feeling of love that had been showered over me. Subsequently, I spoke to my mother-in-law, and she confirmed the description of her grandmother, whom I had never met in life. She also told me that she had been praying to her, asking her to look after me.

  The meaning of Grandmother Nat-thamé’s message was clear. I have been learning Reiki, feng shui, and pranic healing in the last few years, something my parents don’t understand. I had been trying to explain the importance of these new interests to them, telling them that they were not just hocus-pocus, airy-fairy pursuits, but I couldn’t convince them. Don’t try, Grandmother had said. To date, I have not said a thing, and my parents haven’t asked. Maybe one day they will understand.

  Chapter 9

  DREAMS, MEDITATIONS, AND NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCES INVOLVING ANGELS

  MESSAGES FROM ARCHANGEL GABRIEL

  by Tia Johnson

  Two and a half years after my grandmother passed away, my mom received a phone call from the aunt of a family friend (my grandmother had been his best friend), saying that he was in the hospital. Somehow I “heard” the word cancer. (My mom later confirmed that he did indeed have cancer.)

  About a week later, I remember being seated on the subway, waiting to get off at the last stop, when I heard a loud and clear voice: “You don’t have much time to go and see him. In fact, you’re already late. He doesn’t have long, so you need to go and see him if you want to do so before he leaves this earth.”

  That’s when I asked, in a semi-trance state, “Who is telling me this?”

  “This is Archangel Gabriel, the messenger,” was the kind reply. “I bring you news.”

  Roughly a week later I received another message from Gabriel: “Too late—he’s gone. But he doesn’t blame you, so don’t feel bad for not seeing him. He knew that you wanted to come but couldn’t. Don’t beat yourself up about it. He is safe. He is being debriefed on his life, and is spending time with your grandmother and grandfather. He is at peace.”

  Two weeks after that, my mom received the news that the friend had indeed passed and that his body had been cremated. I was shocked to hear confirmation of his death, and I never again questioned what the “voices” told me.

  THE BIG BLUE ANGEL OF PEACE AND LOVE

  by H. Titus

  It has been almost seven years since the passing of my beloved grandmother. I grew up with her; she was my other mother. So many days, I remember running across the field to her house just to help her make cookies or to watch the game show Classic Concentration with her on the little black-and-white countertop TV set.

  I would always go to Grandma’s house with the excuse of wanting to dust for the quarter she gave me. We both knew that the real reason was that we loved each other’s company.

  I clearly remember the day of her funeral, and like a movie in my mind, I still see myself as the last one standing there at her grave after everyone left. Numb with grief, I had no tears to cry, no feeling anywhere. That day, and the feeling of being alone, has always haunted me.

  Sometime later, I was feeling especially lonely and desolate. I took the day off of work and drove to the small graveyard in the small town in the countryside where my grandmother was buried. When I got there, I sat next to the headstone and cried for the first time since her death. I admitted that I was angry with God. Why did someone I love have to die of such awful cancer? Why were children hurt? What did she do to deserve this? What did I do to deserve this? But no answers came, and I left the cemetery feeling just as alone as I’d felt days before.

  That night, I had a very powerful dream: With my back to the headstone and my head bent, crying to God, I could see a big blue beautiful angel over my left shoulder, watching me from above the headstone. I knew upon waking that my grandma was in a better place, and that all was as it should be, even if I did not understand why. That dream, although simple, left me with a great feeling of peace and love.

  DREAMS OF HEALING GUIDANCE

  by Sandara Smith

  I was in Santa Fe, attending a class about massage therapy and spirituality. That night I got a strong urge to call my mother and check on my father. When Mom got on the phone, she told me that Dad was ill, and that she was taking him to a cancer clinic in Temple, Texas, within the next few days. I am still amazed that I called home at that time, but I feel the spiritual work I had been doing in my class opened me up to my angels’ guidance.

  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 th
em 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.

  THE GOLDEN CORD

  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!

  MY REUNION WITH DAD

  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.

  THE DAY I CHOSE TO LIVE

  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.

  I later learned that I had crushed my right hip, broken my pelvis in three places, broken my right femur, and sustained a skull fracture. Due to the stress of the accident, my heart had stopped three times. I spent ten days in the ICU, but I eventually recovered. I’m sure the angels saved my life.

  Thank you, Dr. Ray, my guardian angel!

  GENTLE BEINGS OF LIGHT

  by Dorothy Womack

  As my mother lay dying, she said that her room was filled with glowing beings. They were all smil
ing warmly, softly touching her skin, and beckoning her to go with them. She was lifted up; and found herself walking in a beautiful, lush expanse of greenery. The place had fountains, flowers, and more glowing beings. The gardens were illuminated, but without sunlight. She wondered how she was able to walk, since she had been bedridden for four years.

  These beings flew around her and lifted her up again, and she felt weightless. They brought her back to her bed, kissed her cheek, and told her she’d be coming home soon. My mother said the glowing beings were so gentle and tender. Their eyes were large and filled with love, and their bodies were small and childlike. They had wings that felt like silk and shimmered like satin. They spoke to her in whispers and encouraged her to anticipate their imminent return.

  Mom said that no one should ever be afraid to die, and that we go to a beautiful place when we leave our bodies behind. Six weeks later, Mom died. Her courage in the face of certain death gave me the courage to face an uncertain life.

  AUNT NINA

  by Sonia Huston

  When I was 16, I died. It was the worst car accident in the history of the city of Vacaville, California. A police officer traveling at 65 miles per hour in a 30-mile-per-hour zone ran into the car I was riding in. She didn’t have emergency lights or a siren on, as she was responding to a silent burglar alarm across town. The exact moment she came over a steep hill, my three friends and I were making a U-turn at the crest of the hill. Right in the middle of our turn, she smashed into the back and the passenger side of the car. I was sitting in the passenger seat. My two friends in the back of the car tragically died.