by Lorna Byrne
So I started to tell her about God. 'Do you see the finch, that beautiful finch with all those golden colours and yellows and blues? That bird is like God. Really look at that bird and see its beauty and perfection. You are like the bird; you are beautiful, because you are like God. If that bird falls and hurts itself it won't feel all the pain of that fall, because God will feel 99 per cent of it. God feels everything that happens to each and every bird and it is the same with us – when something happens that would hurt us, we only feel a fraction of it. God feels the rest and takes it away.'
I know these weren't my words – I was too young for words of wisdom like this – they were words I was given by God or the angels to help to explain to Marian about God.
I loved that church; sometimes I'd be a bit late for school because I would slip into the church before I would go into class – it was something that I loved to do. The church was always empty. I love churches – they are full of angels. There might only be a few people in the church, but there is always a great hustle and bustle amongst the angels there. People don't realise how many angels there are in a church; the angels are there praising God and waiting for God's people to come and join them, but frequently no one does. At Mass on a Sunday the place is packed with angels: guardian angels with every person, angels standing around the priest at the altar and lots more angels which God sends down. Churches are very powerful places; sometimes when I see someone in the church and see all the angels and light around them, I pray for them: 'Please let that person hear their angel today and in some way come into contact with their angel, and through him with God.'
Angels are not just found in Christian Churches: they are in the Synagogues, in Mosques and in all the holy places. Your religion makes no difference to the angels: they have told me that all churches should be under one roof. Muslims, Jews, Protestants, Hindus, Catholics and all the other different religions should be together under one umbrella.We may look different, we may have different beliefs, but we all have souls. There is no difference between a Muslim soul and a Christian soul. If we could see each other's souls we would not be killing each other over different interpretations of God.
One day I was walking with my aunt near her house and we passed a church. Standing at the door of the church were two beautiful angels. My aunt turned to me and said 'Don't be looking across at that church.' I looked at her in amazement. She continued, 'That's a Protestant church. You are forbidden ever to go inside the gate or the door of any Protestant church!' I glanced back and watched the people going into the church; they looked no different to us. The next time I passed that church I smiled to the angels at the door. I wasn't allowed to go in, but I knew the church was full of angels.
Our next-door neighbour, Mrs Murtagh, was a beautiful looking woman with a fabulous figure – but she always used to shout at us for walking along the wall. Occasionally she asked me to babysit for a short time. One particular afternoon, when I was about eight, she asked me to keep an eye on the children while she came in to see my mum and have a cup of tea. Just as I was going into her house, an angel stood in front of me and said 'When you are in there, be very careful.'
I was immediately scared, but I reluctantly went into her kitchen. Mrs Murtagh was getting ready and had a pot boiling on the stove. I said to her, 'Are you leaving that on?'
She replied, 'Yes, it will be grand.'
'Would you not turn it off?' I said.
She wouldn't listen to me, and she was the sort of woman who would get very angry at you if you didn't do exactly as she said. There were two children in the kitchen – a toddler and a baby in a huge pram. As soon as she left I found myself looking around the kitchen. The back door was locked and there was no key in it.
All of a sudden, with a whoosh, the cooker blew up – I don't know what happened but there was smoke and flames everywhere. I remember grabbing the toddler then the pram and trying to manoeuvre it out of the door into the hall. The cooker and the table were between the pram and the door to the hall, so I had to pass the burning cooker to get out. The pram was very heavy and I couldn't move it easily. I grabbed the toddler and got her out into the front garden and screamed at a passing neighbour that the house was on fire.
I ran back in; the house was full of black smoke and I was terrified the baby would suffocate before we could get her out. The neighbour followed me and, thank God, he was able to manoeuvre the pram out.
The children were safe. I ran crying and shaking into my house. Mum and Mrs Murtagh were sitting in the kitchen having tea – they had heard nothing. I sobbed that the house was on fire and they ran into the garden next door. I remember Mrs Murtagh throwing her arms around her children, shaking and crying. She looked at me and thanked me. The whole downstairs of the house was black, but the fire was out; the neighbour had somehow managed to put it out.
The fifties in Ireland were a very difficult time, economically: there was little employment and a lot of people had to emigrate. Things were very hard for my family with my mum often sick and in and out of hospital. When she was away the garden would become overgrown as Da would have no time for it, with work and minding us. Even with our help, he still had an awful lot to do, and I would worry a lot. I would talk to the angels on the way to school about all that was happening at home. They would tell me not to worry, that Mum would get better.
Da would get us up early in the morning and get us ready for school; we would help make our breakfast and sandwiches for lunch. My sister and I would help to look after my younger brother and sisters and we would clean the house and set the table for dinner. There was very little money and Da had the additional expense of the bus to and from the hospital, so a lot of the time when Mum was sick we didn't eat dinner – we lived on crackers and cheese.
While we were in Ballymun Mum had two more children, both boys, called Cormac and Dillon. Now there were seven of us children – all under twelve. Things were tough. At one stage Da went to England to work and he seemed to be gone for months. So, again, there were no vegetables grown and the garden went wild. I used to talk to the angels about how I missed Da and how sad it was that he had to go away.
I always remember the day Da arrived back home unexpectedly. The angels told me to look out the window and I could see him walking down the road towards the house, wearing an overcoat and hat and carrying his case. I noticed how handsome my Da looked: it was as if I expected him to look old, much older than he had looked when he went away, but he actually looked so young – which he was, only in his early thirties. I was so happy; I ran down the stairs as fast as I could and told Mum. I hid behind her as she opened the door to welcome him home.We were all so happy that day.
Da had to go out and start to look for work again immediately, but he did start working on the garden and we all helped. I always loved helping my Da and I loved growing vegetables; pulling the weeds away from around them and asking the angels to help them to grow. I desperately wanted to help more, but when you are so small how much can you do on your own? Often I would cry with frustration at not being able to do more, but I would try to make sure that no one saw me by going around the back of the garden shed.
I used to play a lot with the family across the road from us in the cul-de-sac: they were a big family like ours and I was very friendly with the middle child, Alice, who was about the same age as me. Their Da was away a lot working in England and their Mum worked very hard, both outside and inside the home. Their father came home every few months, but one day the angels told me that his next trip home would be his last, because he was going to Heaven.
I felt so sad. Things changed: I no longer wanted to go over to my friend's house to play in her garden. I distanced myself, but I did my best to make sure that no one would notice, especially Alice. Then one day at home the angels said, 'In a few days we will tell you to go over to Alice's house, and you will need to go over.'
Three days later I was told. I took a big, deep breath and went out of my own hall door, walked stra
ight across the road through the side gate of Alice's house, around the back and knocked on the kitchen door. Alice's mother opened the door. I looked straight into the kitchen; it seemed darker than usual. Alice and one of her brothers were there, and she turned and gave me a big smile. I took a few steps inside the door; I didn't want to go any further. Alice told me excitedly that her dad was coming home, and coming home for good, that he had finally found a job in Ireland. She was so excited. I felt so confused – happy for her, and yet inside my heart was crying. I knew that her mother and father had been hoping for a long time that he would get a job in Ireland, and could come home. Now he had one, but he wasn't going to live to enjoy it. I asked Alice to come and play with me in my house as I didn't want to stay in her's.
Later that day I remember going down to the church and sitting in front of the altar and talking to God, asking him if there was any way he could let Alice's dad come home and stay.
There was great excitement in Alice's house the day her father came home – and I felt happy for them. However, a few days later I was sitting on the swing in their back garden while the other children were playing in the front when the sky suddenly changed and an angel said, 'Turn around and open your eyes.'
When I turned around and looked at the house, there was an incredibly bright beam of light coming down through the sky – a beam of light full of angels. I called that beautiful light 'The Stairway to Heaven'. This beautiful sight, and the wonderful singing and music that accompanied it, took my breath away. I wanted to go towards it, but I stayed sitting on the swing, gently moving back and forth.
The light went straight through the roof and seemed to engulf the house. Then, it was as if the outer walls of the house disappeared and I could see Alice's dad lying there on his bed. His wife was trying to wake him. His body lay there, but his spirit was elsewhere – it was standing at the end of the bed with two spirits by its side. It seemed to know the spirits – I didn't recognise them, but they looked like him so I guess they were family come to help him on his journey. There were also a lot of angels there. Alice's dad went up into the light with the spirits and the angels, who held him ever so gently. I saw them going up among all the angels along that beautiful beam of light while the singing and heavenly music continued. Her father and the two spirits seemed to stop for a moment, then he looked back down.
Time stood still for me; suddenly the house came back into view and the stairway was gone. Alice's mother was stood at the door, calling out to her children. They were playing in the front garden and I was alone in the back, sitting on the swing. She looked straight through me as if she did not see me. Then she turned and walked out of the side gate into the front garden. I sat there, knowing the bad news that was awaiting Alice and her brothers and sisters. I felt so lonely and sad and asked the angels who were with me, 'Will he be able to come back to comfort them – even for a while? Particularly to comfort Alice who loved him so much and missed him so much when he was away.'
The angels replied, 'Yes, he'll be back shortly. He will be there with them for a little while.' That made me feel a little better and I took a deep breath, got down off the swing and said to the angels, 'I think I'll go home now.'
I could hear crying coming through the windows as I left. I walked out through the side gate across to my own home. No one was home – my mother was already across the road comforting Alice's mother.
That was one of the saddest days in my very young life: I always thought mums and dads would live forever.
Chapter Four
Why do you hide from me?
One day, Da brought home a beautiful, shiny, red car. It looked enormous, but perhaps that was just because I was so small. He had borrowed it from a friend because we were going on a holiday – my first ever! The car was piled up with luggage and my parents and all seven of us children climbed in. We were heading down to my Grandmother's place in Mountshannon, County Clare; it was in the country, 120 miles away. The journey seemed to take all day, but I loved every moment of it: I loved looking out the window. Every so often Da would stop the car and we'd all get out for a little break, and maybe, if we were lucky, we'd get an ice cream.
This was the first time I had met my Da's parents. They lived in a youth hostel and Granny was its caretaker. I remember arriving that first day. Da drove in through a big, grand gate, into a yard through an old arch, then under another smaller arch into another yard. There, in front of us, was an enormous old house surrounded by big stone sheds that were like houses themselves – Granny told me later that these were coach houses, where the horses and carriages had been kept, long ago.
Da stopped the car and we all tumbled out. I looked in wonder at the house. We went in and I was introduced to Granny and my grandfather. My grandfather had a wooden leg; I was always told that he had lost it as a young man while fighting for Irish freedom. My grandparents had very little money, but Granddad had a wonderful old-fashioned car which was designed so that he could get around with his wooden leg. That first evening he showed me a baby swallow that had fallen from its nest; he was feeding it with a dropper and keeping it in a shoebox. He also had found birds' eggs and was trying to keep them warm in the hope that they would hatch. Granddad looked very feeble and he stooped, and that first evening I also noticed that the light surrounding him was much weaker than that around other people: it was very dim, almost invisible, but at the time I didn't think too much about it.
My grandmother was a small, good-looking elegant woman with short grey hair. She worked very hard, making sure that the hostel was clean. She was also a great cook and spent hours in their kitchen baking brown bread, apple tarts and all kinds of delicious things. In fact, Granny and Granddad spent most of their time in their kitchen, which always smelled of fresh baking, and I loved to sit there at the table with them enjoying a cup of tea and a slice of hot brown bread.
The big house was wonderful. Beyond the kitchen was a long, long corridor with lots of flower pots. In summer, when I was there, this corridor was always full of flowers of all colours. At the end was a glass room, and there was nothing much in it except more of Granny's flowers, but it was a place I loved. I used to spend a lot of time there, talking to the angels.
The garden was fantastic, too. There were the yards with the coach houses where the swallows nested, and beyond the yards was a little gate – which I always climbed over instead of opening. This gate led into a garden with big trees and lovely flowers which always smelled wonderful. There were rabbits and birds there, and sometimes, if I sat under one of the big trees with sloping branches, I could look into a blackbird's nest and see her chicks. Beyond the garden were the fields and open countryside. I loved that garden, and I felt very safe there.
From the first day in Mountshannon I used to go for long walks on my own; I could slip out and nobody seemed to notice, or care, where I had gone. I was very good at not being noticed. Most of the time, with adults, it was as if I didn't exist. Sometimes I felt they might be happier if I didn't really exist; I've never been quite sure whether this was because I could feel what they were thinking, or because of the things I had heard said about me over the years. Once, as a young child, I heard my neighbour telling my mother I was lucky I hadn't been locked up and the key thrown away. When she said this my mother didn't reply or defend me.
I would walk for miles – across bogs, through woods, across hayfields, along the banks of the River Shannon – but I never felt alone. I was always talking to the angels who were with me and watching and listening to birds and animals. Occasionally, the angels would say, 'Go quietly now, very gentle steps.' Then, up ahead there would be something for me to see. I remember being enchanted when I was shown a family of little rabbits playing. They didn't run away so I sat down very close to them and watched them for hours. I know some days I must have walked for miles, but I never got lost and I never had an accident. When I think now of the things I did – crossing roads, rivers, bogs and fields full of cattle – I have to w
onder how it was that I never came to any harm. But the answer is clear: God and the angels had me in the palms of their hands. The angels made me laugh and cry and were the best friends one could possibly have; they are everything to me.
One day, I slipped out and went through the little gate and one of the angels appeared out of nowhere and caught me by the arm. 'Come on, Lorna, we have something to show you, something we know you would like to see.'
As we walked across the field I turned to them and laughingly said, 'Bet I can race you!'
So, off we ran at full speed and I fell. I cut my knee and cried.
'It doesn't hurt that much – it's only a little scratch,' said my angels.
'Hmmm,' I said, 'it's only a little scratch to you, but a big scratch to me. I can feel it stinging. It does sting, you know!'
They just laughed at me and said, 'Come on, up you get and let us show you something.'
So up I got and, sure enough, I soon forgot my sore knee. As we walked through the field to the woods beyond they told me to listen. I listened and I could hear lots of animals in the distance.
'What am I to listen for?' I asked.
'Listen for one animal. Separate out all the sounds until you only hear just one,' the angels said. 'This way we can teach you to hear us more clearly when you grow older.'
So I separated all the sounds that I heard as I walked through the woods, and with every step I took I could hear the ground crackle under my feet. After a little while, I was able to distinguish all the various birds: the different songs of the sparrow, the wren, the finch, the blackbird, and many others. I could hear and identify what birds they were and exactly where they were, just as I could with any animals which were around. I seemed to learn things very quickly when the angels taught me.