Breathe Easy, Baby Sister
Even though I was only five, I could see how frazzled my mother was.
My baby sister, Rachel, had respiratory syncytial virus, which made it very difficult for her to breathe. My parents had to watch her every second.
One night I awoke after midnight to an extraordinary sight: Two gigantic angels with huge wings stood guard over Rachel’s crib. Their presence made me feel safe because I knew my baby sister was safe.
When Mom cracked open the door to check on us I wanted her to feel safe too. “Angels are here!” I said.
“Where?” she whispered.
I pointed over at Rachel’s crib. The next morning, Mom said she got the best rest she’d had in weeks that night. Rachel is now a healthy, happy 14-year-old. It’s hard to imagine her struggling for breath. But there are those of us who know better: me, my mom and Rachel’s two angels.
—Elizabeth Veldboom, Rifle, Colorado
Pop’s Starry Night
After my father-in-law’s funeral, my two-and-a-half-year-old son, Daniel, couldn’t understand where his beloved “Pop” went.
Dad and Daniel had been downright inseparable. How could we explain that our loved ones in heaven really aren’t so far away? Daniel just seemed confused.
“Pop flew into my bedroom window last night,” Daniel said one morning. He was just making up a story, but I got an idea.
That night after bedtime prayers, I pointed out the window to the biggest, brightest star in the night sky. “That’s Pop’s star,” I told Daniel. “He may live up there in the heavens, but he shines on us down here on earth.”
Daniel looks for Pop’s star every night and now knows for certain he is loved from heaven. They’re closer than ever.
—Shana Aborn, Middle Village, New York
Feathers for Protection
I raced from my office to the hospital. Our 13-year-old son, Jacob, was involved in an auto accident with a family friend.
“It’s okay, Dad,” Jacob said when I got to him. His clothes were blood-stained, but luckily he had only some cuts and scrapes on his arms and legs. I hugged him more tightly than ever before.
While the doctors conferred, Jacob confided in me: “Something amazing happened when the car crashed, Dad. I felt something feathery cover me. Something like an angel’s wing.”
When I saw pictures of the wrecked car I had no doubts about the feeling Jacob described. There was an angel in the car. My son would not have survived without heavenly protection.
You always hope as a parent that angels are watching out for your kids. Now I know for sure.
—Steven Eaton, Graham, Washington
Word Play?
Myeeze, pronounced “My-ease.”
It was my granddaughter Amy’s name for me. That’s just what came out instead of Grandma when she saw me!
Years later, a friend told me she saw a program on Native Americans. “Dancers chanted: ‘Myeeze.’ Isn’t that Amy’s name for you?” But Amy didn’t know Native American culture.
Soon after, I visited a Native American museum. “My granddaughter calls me Myeeze,” I told an employee. “Is there a Native American word like that?” She said there was, in the Northern Plains dialect. “What does it mean?” I asked.
“Grandmother,” she said.
I gasped. “But how could my granddaughter have known?”
She raised her arm toward heaven and touched her heart.
—Carol Ann Webster, Rocky Hill, Connecticut
Picture This
We’d just left a family reunion with our grandchildren, four-year-old Chad and eleven-year-old Bailey.
As my husband and I drove off, Bailey asked, “Granny, where is Uncle Dick’s grave?” Uncle Dick died long before the grandkids were born, but we always told them stories about his days playing college football. They felt like they knew him.
“Nearby,” I said. “Why don’t we go for a visit?”
We pulled into the cemetery and walked to Dick’s grave. We read his headstone and said a prayer. As we were leaving Chad turned around. “Wait! I want to see the angel again!” he said.
“What angel?” I asked.
“She was standing right there,” he said. “She had big white wings! She was right here,” Chad insisted.
I hugged Chad close. “I know you saw her,” I said. “She was a special angel sent just for you.”
At home, I sketched an angel. Chad said it looked exactly like her. “Would you like me to paint a picture of her for you?” Chad thought about it for a moment. “How about a shark instead?”
It made me think angels for Chad are an everyday occurrence. And why shouldn’t we think of them as such?
—Cee Cee Clark, Carlsbad, California
