Believe in them or not, I am sure that angels are around us all the time. I’m not talking about a mystical being who wafts into your bedroom and leaves you a winning lottery ticket in the night, or grabs up your toddler who is just about to put her little hand on a hot stove. No, I’m talking about the ones who look just like us, but don’t always act like us. Or the unseen ones who guide and guard us throughout our lives.
It can be the woman who sees that you’ve dropped your wallet, picks it up and runs after you to return it. It can be a stranger who compliments you on your hair and you walk away happier than you were before. It can also be some slow poke (or, as the Crankee Yankee likes to say, “a Pokey-hontas”) in front of you in traffic who made you late for the serious car accident in which you might have been involved.
Remember all the accounts of those people who should have died on September 11, 2001 but didn’t? A woman was late to work because her little boy threw up on the way to daycare, and they had to go back home to change. One man overslept that morning and by the time he got on the road, the towers had fallen. Both the hijacked commuter planes were no where near full that day.
I believe that angels are here to influence us in positive ways, to guide rather than direct, to whisper encouragement to us when we need it, or to warn us of impending danger. I have a friend who was driving on a back road at dusk one day when she got the distinct impression to slow down. She did, and seconds later a large deer appeared on her side of the road. She wanted to slowly drive around it, but something told her to just wait. She did, and the deer bounded across the road exactly where she would have been had she driven around the deer.
One of my earliest memories was when I was about two or three years old. It was my bedtime, and my mother was in the bathroom that lead off her bedroom. I was waiting for her, and was bouncing lightly on her bed. I stopped for a moment, and felt two warm hands gently cup the back of my head. I looked around behind me, and no one was there. I don’t remember feeling afraid at all.
Years later when I told my mother about it (for some reason, I didn’t tell her about the hands that night), I told her that I was sure that it was her mother who touched me. Mom’s mother died of cancer when Mom was barely 14 years old; a terrible time to lose your mom. I was and am sure that it really was my late grandmother who touched me so lovingly.
It is up for some debate on whether humans can become angels once they pass from this life; personally, I believe that many can and do. I feel that we on this earthly plane are surrounded constantly by kindly and loving presences who wish only our highest good. I don’t believe that we go through our lives all on our own. No matter what your belief system is, I think that it is a universal construct that we are all helped from time to time from these good beings.
I know that my own life is better for them, and I hope that yours is as well.