Wednesday, May 12th, 2010 at
8:46 am
The first time I saw an angel was many years ago.
I have been aware of spirits and presences since I was a small child, but I don’t always see them with my naked eye. Most often I feel the presence in the room with me and see more of the details about the person when I close my eyes and tune in.
It doesn’t work like it does on TV shows. I will not usually get a complete and clear image. I will see small parts that flash in and out of my mind. I may see a cane, an article of clothing, a piece of jewelry, their hair or their eyes. I will get a sense of body size and shape. Hopefully I get enough flashes and bits and pieces to be able to identify the person, and I usually do identify them more by feeling than by how they look. I guess it is a little hard to describe, but if you’ve ever just “known” that a friend or relative is in the room, you might be able to relate to what I am saying.
But, back to the part about when I saw (with my own eyes) an angel….
I was having a troubling time. I had become a foster parent to a young teen. The teen had stolen from me, lied to me and was continually running away. I wouldn’t know where she was for days at a time and she would be returned by police and social workers. This young persons’ behaviour was clearly showing me that she did not want to be in my home. She flatly stated so on many occasions.
Even though on the surface the child was telling me what she wanted, I was worried that I would become just another person in her life that hadn’t tried hard enough to stick it out for her. I was afraid she was waiting to see how hard I would fight to be there for her. As any parent can tell you, when a child is acting out it is usually a cry for help.
My instincts were clouded by worry. After long talks with social workers we decided to try to allow an alternative home for the child. This home was a place she was saying she wanted to go to, but it was not really an ideal situation.
I went to bed that night riddled with guilt. Was I letting the child down by giving up too easily? Was her behaviour a cry for help, or would she really be better off in another situation that was more of her own choosing?
As I lay in bed, suddenly there was a beautiful light filling the room. There, at the foot of my bed there were huge wings spanning the entire room. The light was so bright I could not make out any features.
A voice said, “You have done the right thing.”
I was filled with the deepest sense of love and peace imaginable for several minutes. Then the light slowly faded away, and I slept more peacefully than I had in months.