In December of 1995, my son was diagnosed with a brain tumor. He had a biopsy December 18 and by December 20 he was in a coma. During the next couple of days we had many conversation with doctors about what to do next. From life support to organ donation. As you can see this was a very difficult time for me. One night as I was praying or asking all the questions to God. Like why?, how can we go on? and how am I going to handle this? I was doing this in a quiet unused hall at the hospital. As I was standing there, not knowing if I could stand any more. I felt support on my shoulders, a warm feeling of peace hit me. I turned to see who was supporting me. No one was there...but I know that my angel was and the angel has not left me since. Even when I have questioned "where are you?" "how I am going to handle this situation?" I receive some kind of sign. I have read some angel books and have watched some videos. I have enjoyed them all. But if it wasn't for my angel and my son's I don't think that I would be here now. My son is still alive but it has not been an easy year. And this year doesn't look any better. The MRI this week showed new growth and new tumors. I ask every night that the angels hold my son in their arms and comfort him. I hope and pray for a miracle of healing soon. In trying times, don't quit trying.
Sue
"Look, Sarah," I said, gesturing. "There's Santa Claus."
We had come outside to walk the two dogs, and as we encouraged them to hurry up with their business, an elderly man in a gray overcoat approached the bus stop across the street from us. My daughter looked, saw the man, and then smiled at me.
"He must have some last-minute shopping to do," I quipped.
Who knows what goes on inside a seven-year-old's head, I wondered. Does she still believe in Santa Claus? Does she simply appreciate the novelty of such a moment?--Santa standing at a bus stop, incognito? I wasn't able to pinpoint in my mind exactly when, as a child, I stopped believing in the legend, so I had no idea just where this quaint little scene would take her mind.
Across the street, the old man adjusted the wool hat he wore, and reviewed the headlines inside the newspaper box nearby. Secretly I hoped that she still believed; that she hadn't yet "graduated" to that frame of mind which leaves such "silliness" behind, to be bound up in the first few innocent chapters of our lives and forgotten for a while, forgotten forever in some cases. I hoped that she still believed because I personally had no doubt that the man across the street was Santa Claus. Still the great giver-of-gifts, he had simply changed his method of open-handedness. This man--or his spirit, in any event--had closed my window of rationality and disbelief several years before, when Sarah was just a toddler.
We were waiting in line at my bank's drive-through window during that Christmas season of 1991. Sarah was in the back seat, strapped into her child carrier, and Michael, her eight-year-old brother, was sitting up front with me. (A couple years earlier, their mother and I had separated, and the kids happened to be spending the weekend with me. What a dark period that was in my life. Loneliness and insecurity seemed great burdens for me at that time. In retrospect, I suppose the kids rarely then saw sincerity in my smile.)
"Look," Michael exclaimed, clearly for the benefit of his little sister. "There's Santa Claus!" The bank's Santa Claus--likely one of the security staff pulling holiday duty--was making his way from car to car greeting all of the children he could spot. At the moment he was a couple cars ahead of us, and would no doubt shortly be upon us.
I cringed.
Michael continued his efforts to draw Sarah's attention to the actor, and before long she was watching the old man in anticipation. "Get ready, Sarah," he told her, and as Santa slowly finished entertaining those ahead of us, he glanced in our direction. "Here he comes!" Michael bellowed, and Sarah stirred in her seat, thrilled. What a good brother he is, I thought. In that same moment I also thought that the bank guard could have spent some more time in makeup. The stage beard clearly wasn't attached to his face in places, and the pair of glasses he wore--modern wire-rims--looked like a 1990 model to me ... nothing that might have magically materialized at the North Pole in a flash of white light and stardust. The genuine-sounding belly laugh that he was able to muster, though, as he approached the passenger-side window, was fairly convincing. This was no ho-ho-ho-Santa.
He seemed clearly to be enjoying his visit with the kids. "I know you," he laughed, as he handed Michael a small bag of candy. "You're my friend Michael!"
Good guess, I thought. I wondered what his batting average was, so far.
"How'd you know that?" Michael asked, astonished.
Sarah wriggled in her car seat, quite impressed with the way of the world.
As the actor played his part with Michael; as he asked him about the things he was hoping to get on Christmas morning, and as Michael (a soon-to-be "enlightened" non-believer) was craftily drawn into the moment, I hoped that Santa would take care to not blow the illusion now. His performance was going a long way toward betraying the shoddy makeup job he wore.
And his eyes were the eyes of Santa Claus, behind those prescription lenses.
"And this must be your little sister," he chuckled, delicately shifting his attention from Michael to the back seat of the car.
Sarah squealed.
Careful, now, I thought.
"Sure," he said. "I know you. You're Michael's little sister ..."
I expected Michael to provide the name during Santa's strategic pause but, for whatever reason, he withheld the "assist."
"... Michael's little sister Sarah, aren't you," Santa affirmed gently, as he handed a bag of candy to her. "Oh, yes," he whispered. "And you know, Sarah, your brother loves you very much!"
"That's right!" Michael exclaimed. "How'd you know that?"
I was touched. At the same time I was still a grown-up skeptic, attempting to explain for myself how this red-clad bank dick had pulled it off. Michael and Sarah, I thought. The top two names for boys and girls in this child-naming era. It was true: they were the most popular names, according to some survey I had read recently. That was it: Santa had happily been lucky with his odds-on guess. With this particular carload, anyway, he had pulled off his act.
As Santa chuckled from the belly, clearly pleased with himself, he paid me a glance in preparation of moving on. They could easily have been the eyes of Santa Claus. They were alive in a very special way.
"I'm very happy to see you today," he said, returning his attention to the kids. "And now I have to move on. Merry Christmas to you, kids," he said softly. "So many people to see!"
Oh, that was perfect, I thought.
Michael reached for the window crank.
But Santa paused now, clamped his gloved hand on the top of the door, and leaned into the car. In a sincere and confidential tone, he said to me (And the kids were gone now--this moment contained within itself only me and this minimum-wage-bank-guard-Santa-Claus.), "You have a happy Christmas, too, Scott. It all gets better, you know."
More than with his voice, Santa had conveyed the message with his eyes, and in that moment a period in my life within which I only viewed things rationally--a period lasting approximately thirty years--came to an end. I was free once again to believe in Santa Claus and Christmas gifts and the Universe speaking in many and sundry languages.
I was free to invest myself in the song that was playing on the radio: Pete Townshend's "All Shall be Well."
And I was at liberty to close the door on a past which had been gloomily invading my Christmas "present." Santa Claus had given me the gift of innocence--a form of openness that supersedes our arrogant assuredness in "certified" hard fact, if we're fortunate.
My real name, of course, is Michael Shepard. It's that name that was chosen for me by my parents as a form of homage to my Uncle Mike, and it's the name with which I was baptized in the Catholic Church. It's the name by which I'm known by the IRS and by my bank, because it's the black and white name on my birth certificate. It's the name that goes on forms. The name by which I've been known to family and friends since childhood, however, is the one that the bank guard used in his reassurance to me.
Ever since I first learned to believe in Santa Claus as a child, and while I quit doing so for a matter of thirty years or so, my name has been Scott: Michael Scott Shepard, in case you're considering giving me a loan or a subpoena; just Scott, though, if you mean to speak to me in color, as the angel Santa Claus did, that day.
So; now, some five years later, as Sarah and I walked the dogs just a few days before Christmas, I hoped that the magic of the Saint Nicholas myth that she has enjoyed so far hadn't yet been invaded by "reality." I hoped that she still believed, so that, at least for a while longer she could enjoy that spirit of openness and lack of rigidity that I had fairly recently found again in myself. I looked at the bearded man across the street, and hoped that Sarah saw the same person I saw.
Once back inside, my hopes were rewarded when I noticed Sarah peeking out the window to have another look at the man at the bus stop. I'd like to think that her curiosity was met with a wave of the hand or a wink of the old man's eye. But even if it wasn't, at least I can be assured that she hasn't yet fallen into that sleep of worldly self-dependence which causes us to close our eyes to the realities which lie just beyond the veil of our sense of mystery and wonder.
Scott Shepard
My friend was in her car on the way to drop her children off at school. She was sitting at the light and when it changed, she was on her way through the light and realized another car was going through the intersect through a red light. In order to avoid a collision she slammed her foot on the gas to hurry and get out to the car's way. Well her car would not move. It just sat there while she had her foot pressed all the way to the floor. The other car flew through the intersection and missed the front end of her car by a hair. She sat there for a minute thinking her car had stalled. When she pushed the gas peddle again her car went safely through the intersection without a problem. It was then that she realized if she had moved the car forward she would have been broadsided and surely ended up hurt very badly or dead. There was definitely some angelic intervention there !
It just made her day.
I then told her about the time I lived in California and I was making a left hand turn at a busy intersection. I was sitting at the light, there was heavy traffic in all directions. I was the last car through the light which was yellow by the time I got to it. I was going fast in order to get through, before it changed to red. It was raining. Halfway through the intersection I lost control of my car and it spun around and around. I'm not sure how many times. I thought, okay, this is it. I prayed my kids would be taken care of and asked for forgiveness. I shut my eyes and just let go of the steering wheel. I knew I was going to die.
The next thing I knew I opened my eyes and was sitting in the middle of the intersection, I look around and there were no other vehicles on the road anywhere. I was all alone and pointed in the direction I had been heading in. I sat there for a minute wondering if I was still alive or maybe someplace else. I couldn't believe it ! I just drove to my destination confused and very shaken up. I will never forget it because I know the angels were defiantly watching out for me then ! Any other experiences like these out there?
Pamela
Hi Angels, Just wanted to share my experience with an angel. Actually it was my mother and father's experience. My mom and dad's house caught on fire one night. The smoke alarms didn't work because the batteries hadn't been changed in awhile. Anyway the whole top floor was in flames. My father woke up and noticed that my mom was on fire! It seems that she had fallen asleep with a cigarette in her hand. Dad jumped out of bed and lifted my mom off of the bed, the air and her nightgown caused the fire to ignite even stronger. Dad threw mom on the floor and threw himself over her to put out the fire. He picked her up and carried her down the stairs and outside to the patio. He laid her on the patio while he ran back in the house to make sure that my Brother was out. When he returned to the patio he decided that he must move my mom because the upstairs window right above her was probably going to blow out. Dad's hands were burnt and he couldn't carry my mom all the way outside the patio and into the alley. It was in the middle of the night and no one was up yet or around yet. Dad started dragging mom away from the window it was his only choice. He couldn't lift her because of his hands and he couldn't leave her there. Out of the blue a young guy appeared. He said nothing to my father, he just bent over and helped my dad carry my mom to safety. Once outside the patio, the fire engines could be heard. Dad turned away to say thank you to the welcomed stranger but he was gone. Dad had never seen him before and never saw him again. The demeanor of the young man was calming. No words were ever spoken between dad and the stranger, yet the stranger had a calming affect. This was an angel and I know that he is with us when ever we may need him.
Sheri In San Diego
I was married before and had gone through a painful divorce. I lived in CT then. My mother has always lived in RI, so every weekend I would travel to RI to visit Mom and a relative or two and/or a friend or two. I'd always bring my two Siamese cats (the Siamese twins as I called them) with me in their carrier, on the seat next to me.
This one particular weekend was a rather good one, but when I left on Sunday late afternoon to go back to CT, it began snowing like mad. I traveled all back roads (usually less traffic so I made better time), and at one point I had to go up and come back down a rather steep hill. As I crested the hill, I saw a very long line of cars coming up toward me on the other side of the road. It was blizzard-like conditions and I happened to notice a bad accident at the bottom of the hill. I pumped my brakes lightly so that I'd come down the hill slowly, but suddenly the car began to spin. I tried to remain calm and remember everything I'd ever read about turning the wheel into the spin, etc., but I couldn't gain control of the car. I hit one of the sign posts on my side of the road, bounced off of that, did a complete 180 as I was spinning very fast across the road. I closed my eyes as my heart began pumping faster and faster, sure that one of those other cars would slam into us, killing us. We slammed into the guard rail on the other side of the road and came to a stop, facing the wrong way. I slowly opened my eyes and checked "my babies" who were a little shook up from the wild ride, but doing okay in their carrier.
My whole body began to shake uncontrollably and I began to cry. I got out of the car to check the damage and slipped and fell, suddenly realizing that the entire hill was one huge sheet of ice. I saw the damage to the rear of the car - we had just missed ramming the gas tank. There was a lot of damage, but it looked drivable.
When I got back into the car, I realized that I was totally all alone. There were no cars anywhere! That whole line of cars I'd seen had vanished into thin air. Eventually a couple of cars passed me, but no one stopped to help me. The shaking continued, as did the tears, and I slowly turned the car around and decided to try to continue the drive home (I was at the halfway mark of my journey). Suddenly I felt a warmth around me. It was my father, who had passed away a few years earlier. It was as if I was sitting in his lap and his arms were encircling me. Then I heard his voice telling me that I would be fine and to just go home. And I did.
When I got to my apartment, I got the cats settled and then raced to the phone to call my mother. I was a couple of hours late and I was sure she'd be panicked. When she answered the phone, she asked if I'd been in an accident. I said, "Yes, how did you know?" Her answer was simple. "Daddy told me and he said you would be fine."
Just for the record, my father's name was Raphael, the name of one of the Archangels. Do I believe in angels? You bet I do. Do I have a special Guardian Angel watching over me? One of the best. Love to all, LadyRose
I am 43 years old now. When I was 16, my girl friend, Sandy, became pregnant. She gave the baby up for adoption. When I was 19, I married Sandy and we had 3 more children. Needless to say, the last 26 years have been hell on my wife in regards to the child she gave up. The baby was born on Valentine's Day 1971 and every Valentine's day since has been a day of mourning in our household.
We had initiated a few searches for this child after she turned 18, but to no avail. We were listed in various agencies as looking and available for contact if she initiated a search, but nothing came of any of this. Finally, after the last Valentine's day, my wife contacted an agency which was only paid if contact was made, so we were even more hopeful.
Shortly after this, I received my first contact from you, Mary Ellen, in which you inquired about the ones in my AOL screen name (DJU111111). I told you I didn't know why, but 111 was always important to me. You replied with the information that 111 indicated a connection with Angels and messengers. I didn't think too much about it and went on with life.
On Friday, 2/21/97, the searching agency contacted my wife and informed her that she had the information concerning our daughter. We were ecstatic. We overnighted the money to the searcher, on Saturday, and were expecting a phone call from her when she received the money.
Sunday morning was HELL. Waiting for the call to arrive....the call we had prayed for ...waited for.....for 26 years. I looked at the clock at 11:00 AM and thought, "the call will come in at 11:11", but did not say anything to my wife. I figured the moment was too tense already.
At exactly 11:11, the phone rang. It was the agency with the information...now I knew we were in the realm of Angels, but still didn't want to sound too corny. Now this is where is starts to get really weird. My daughter lives at 1111 Park Ave. When my wife got pregnant, she lived at 111 4 th St. When we finally got up the nerve to make a call to my daughter, I looked at the clock and it was 1:11 PM.
Obviously trying to be ready for any reaction (imagining and fearing the worse), we were not ready for the reaction we received. After the initial shock wore off, and after the questions from her you would imagine, she said something I was not prepared for....she said "THANK YOU".....thought our love and caring for her was "beautiful" and Thanked us again for giving her a life which was a good one. Our daughter had graduated from college with a degree in Early Childhood Education, and she is currently teaching handicapped and mentally disabled adults.
The world is a better place because of this person. She is obviously a caring and loving individual who is giving of herself...so others can do better. My debt of gratitude to the people who raised her is overwhelming. My concern over the decision made by wife and I when we were teenagers has been validated. I have been truly blessed by Angels.
We intend to keep open a line of communication and see what develops. Obviously with a situation with all of the psychological ramifications, we are taking it slowly. We do not want to do anything to mess it up.
Mary Ellen I do not know you very well, and I am not normally so free with information of this personal a nature, but under the circumstances and the timing of your correspondence with me, I feel obligated to share this story with you. Please feel free to pass it along if you think it will be of service to anyone.
I was....and still am....in the realm of the Angels. Dave
On my way to work yesterday morning, I was stuck behind a very slow truck. I like to rush to work once I get going, because that way I can get home quicker in the afternoon. Anyway this horrible truck would not get out of my way and I couldn't get past him because of oncoming traffic.
I saw the traffic lights coming up where the road divides into two lanes for a very short distance and thought to myself, I'll get him at the lights. As we approached the lights turned red, that was good, that meant that I would have no problems getting in front of him now and maybe a few others behind me as well. So I pulled to a stop in the right hand lane as he did in the left and sat and waited for the light to turn green.
The light turned green. Now normally at this stage I would have trumped it to get past him, I took my foot from the brake, moved it over to the accelerator, and something said NO. I immediately put my foot back on the brake again. Just as I did that a double trailer semi trailer (road train) fully loaded ran the red light at about 80 kph. If I had gone when I was going to, it would have been perfect timing for me to have been right under the front of his truck. I don't know how many times after that on the way to work that I said thank you to my little voice, whom I can only presume was my guardian Angel. And I say thank you again now.
It was extremely close yesterday, and I did not see him at all, it was inner instinct that little voice that saved my life. It was not my time.
In Love, Light and Peace.
Sandi
Six years or so ago I had a dream that a man was sitting at my desk at work. I awoke, sat up and felt very worried about losing my job because of the dream - the man seemed to be working at my desk just like he should be there. Suddenly an entity zoomed to a spot in the air to the side and above my bed.
It was a dark-haired young man with a light complexion dressed neatly in modern day clothing and floating in the air. He seemed to be of a normal size, but now that I think about it, he must have been a small person.
He said quite loudly, "You are in class."
I had no idea what this meant. My dog who sleeps with me was standing on the bed barking at the entity or I would have thought I was still dreaming. I put all this out of mind as quickly as possible because I could not understand it.
Within 2 or 3 weeks I went to my desk to check for messages while I was at break from a word processing class. There was the man I saw in my dreams working at my desk exactly as I had seen him, even with the same "ponytail." I thought I was seeing things and when my boss spotted me standing there looking puzzled she explained that although they had not mentioned the need for a replacement for me for one day to me, they had hired a temporary worker for the day. This was a big surprise because I had always called for the temporary help requested by the group.
Do you think the entity in the air above the bed was an angel, maybe my guardian angel?
Nancy S.
Return to Sarah's ArchAngels.
All stories (c)copyright by the owners.
Used with permission.