Angels Among Us

I believe in Angels.  I believe in God, and I believe he has messengers and guardians.  I believe in Angels.  I pray nightly for intercession from St. Michael.

I've read those Miracle books...you know, the ones that describe encounters that border on the heavenly. 

And like any person who believes I've had my own experiences.

Let me start with my sister's experience.  My mother was in the hospital, on her deathbed.  My sister left her to drive the 50 miles home.  She was afraid to stay.  She asked Mama to hold on until the next day, but alas, she could not.  At the moment my mother passed away, my sister was driving and listening to the radio.  That song by Diamond Rio, I Believe, was playing.  She knows this because it was playing when she got in the car, and the radio station appeared to be experiencing some kind of malfunction.  The song played and replayed all the way home for her, and the moment she got home, she had a message from my Mother's friend Kathy, who had stayed, that Mama was gone.  Sometimes an Angel is a familiar voice or song.

Now...my angel.  I thought about it tonight for the first time in a long time. 

In the weeks leading up to Jimmie's diagnosis, when I first started noticing something was wrong, Jimmie was slightly fussy.  Well, a lot fussy.  And he always hated Walmart.  Always.  The lights have always been a problem for him.  I was doing the bi-weekly shopping, and Jimmie was in his infant carrier, screaming and kicking rather violently.  I was unloading my cart onto the conveyor belt at the checkout.  There was a child in line behind me, with his mother, a little boy about 4 years old.  With wide eyes and a tremulous little voice, he pulled on the hem of my shirt and said, "I think he's having seizures." 

I didn't know the child.  And I've never seen him again.

Angel.  I'm totally convinced of it.