Everyone who knew me, knew that I love the subject of angels. At that time in my life, I just had this sudden urge to learn more about angels and how or if they affected our lives. Later I would realize, that sudden urge came just in time and straight from above.
I had suffered with asthma on and off all my life, but in the last 20 years it had become life threatening. I had been in the emergency room so often that all the doctors and nurses knew me well. There were many frightful times and through most of them I was alone. I didn't want to bother anyone or worry them. Then the worst one came upon me on October 17, 1995. This attack came so fast and furious that I knew I would not make it as I drove to the hospital that was only 5 minutes from my home. I could feel myself "losing it". Nothing seemed real around me. I still can't explain how I got to the door of that emergency room. However, for in those minutes nearing the hospital, it was as if someone was telling me to pray for Jesus to help me and specifically to send angels to get right to the E.R. doors. At that moment, I knew that there were angels around me and my car.
After a full day of treatments the attack was finally under control. But my doctor had requested that I stay in the hospital over night "just in case". Well, God and those angels were still at work in that decision, because later that night I went into the worst attack ever. It came on faster and much worse that the one earlier.
I'll never forget the eyes of the respiratory therapist when he looked back into mine. I had worked with him a few times, so we became friends. We both knew I was going to die without a miracle. We had talked earlier about the fact that this was the one way I did not want to die. Not to suffocate to death. His watering eyes were filled with sorrow and frustration. Nothing was working. Soon the room was filled with doctors and nurses doing all that they could, to make me more comfortable.
Now I heard them saying they better 'notify the family' and call a priest or minister. There was conformation of what I was so afraid of. I didn't want them to call my family. My father was not well and I knew, my parents especially, couldn't go through the pain of watching me suffocate to death.
I could only speak with my eyes and a tiny shake "no" of my head. I didn't have the strength to talk or raise my hand to motion in any way. The nurse was so patient trying to read my eyes and reason with me. She finally agreed to call my daughter. That was bad enough. Besides, what could they do?
They could Pray!
I was scared. I can't deny that, but I also knew that I was not alone. As things got "fuzzier" to me, I actually began to experience a sense of peace about me.
Time became unreal and I felt as though I was slipping away. One of the last things I remember was a doctor gently and tenderly explaining to me that I would have to be paralyzed so that they could plunge a tube into my throat and lungs to allow artificial respiration. I recall how he tried to comfort me by brushing back my hair, caressing my cheek and assuring me that he would not leave me, and that my personal doctors (whom I trusted) were right there too.
The second thing I remember hearing, was my father, in a trembling voice, asking the nurse "Is she going to make it?" and she replied, "Well, I'm so sorry, it doesn't look good." After that I drifted off, but in peace, and knowing that I had angels, precious family, friends and our dear Pastor praying and believing for me.
I didn't realize until a couple of weeks later, that I must have really "drifted off!" When I told my daughter that the last thing I remembered was that same, small conversation between 'Grampa' and the nurse. She looked at me in astonishment, eyes open wide. "Mom! You couldn't have heard that!" "Yes I did!" I said. Lisa then told me that she, my parents, my sister and my brother-in-law were all down the hall in a little waiting room when that was said. "There's no way you could have heard that Mom!" ..But I did.
I'm not sure why I, or any of us go through an experience like this. But I know I had to use it for something. God must have allowed it, and brought me out of it for a purpose. Perhaps this is it.
A few winters ago, I remember one night in particular. We had a snow storm that day, and I had been out in it, so I knew how bad it was. Yet it was so beautiful. As I stood and looked out the window, I thought about how those little white flakes could wreak such havoc, yet look so beautiful and peaceful in the moonlight.
In a daze, I found myself reflecting on my life and some of my worst mistakes, that had led to the loneliness and discouragement I was feeling. One that haunted me most often was my decision to have an abortion about 20 years earlier from that night. I was divorced and had two little children already. With no allimony and very, very little child support, I could hardly afford to feed, house and clothe them properly, and I was afraid and embarrassed to tell my family that I was stupid enough to get myself into this situation with a man who was at times very abusive and had too many "problems of his own" to care.
How many times over the years has my broken heart cried out for this child. "Oh God! How can I ever be forgiven for this one! Please forgive me, and someday let me embrace my child." But I didn't feel worthy of forgiveness from God, much less my child. "Father I know you cradled him in your arms that day, and he has been with you ever since. Please let him know how sorry I am and how much I love him!" (Somehow I just knew it was a boy with curly blonde hair.) I can't count how many times, including this night, how I sobbed and ached to hold this child in my arms. Only 2 people knew about this, because I was so crushed and embarrassed at the time. Back then I just didn't know what I eventualy tought in an outreach program I began in my church - open to the community - that this child IS a CHILD from the time of conception.
Then (durring yet another tragic marriage), I had Jamie and I tried to have one more child. However, because of many 'female issues' I could not become pregnant again. I thought this was my punishement from God, but later realized, our loving God does not work in that way. He already gave me my Jamie! But in those times, while in that frame of mind, Jesus assured me that He had my little angel, safe with Him now and everything was going to be o.k.
Through the years I had always pictured what he looked like. This night I pictured him around 20 years old, tall and handsome. He would have been a blessing and a helper to me and his younger brother, Jamie. Things had been so hard for Jamie. He sure could have used a brother close to his own age to grow up with. But it wasn't that way. I just didn't know back then, there weren't people and ads informing us about the truth of what was really happening with those little babies. And I didn't surround myself with truthful people. I heard "it's nothing but a piece of 'tissue' until 3 months. What a lie of the devil that was! It seemed like almost "everyone" had abortions back then. It just wasn't a big thing......until it was me on that table and the procedure started. An overwhelming wave of grief and sorrow came over me. Suddenly, I was the grieving, sobbing mother of this child. But it was too late. I never expected this. I just didn't know.
These thoughts were halted by the sound of Jamie's voice. "Mom, I'm leaving now." "Jamie, do you have to go out tonight? It's snowing so hard and the roads are really slippery." He replied in his usual style, "Mom, I'm not gonna' be on the roads. I'm cuttin' through the fields and parks to walk to Angie's" " Oh Jamie, you know how I hate it when you cut through there, even in good weather! What if something happens? No one will be out there, especially tonight!" "Mom, I'll be alright! Nothin's gonna happen! See ya."
As usual, I felt so useless and helpless because I had little control over him anymore. I worried about him because he was a troubled kid, and suddenly, he liked to do his own thing. As I watched him walk though the snow, down to the street, I prayed for Jesus to send angels around him to protect him.
As the evening went on and to my surprise, Jamie came in around 10:30, and excited to tell me something. (Two things that were very unusual for him!) I saw him 'in a different light'. He looked like he did when he was little, and excited about something and couldn't wait to rush home to tell 'mom'. He was hardly inside the door when he started, "Mom! You aren't gonna believe it. It was so cool!" "Really? What?" I said. "Awe Man! It was so cool Mom!" "What?!" Now I was excited too. Then he began, "I was walkin' through the parks and fields ya know?..And I was walkin',..and all of a sudden, I heard this noise coming from around me, but nothin' was around, anywhere! But I heard it! It was like,..well I don't know what! I gotta' admit, it was kinda' scary. 'Cause I didn't know what it was or where it was coming from. So then I started walkin' a little faster, but I could still hear it, and all of a sudden, it was so cool, I noticed these footprints right in front of me!" I kind of gasped and said, "Someone else was walking through there too?" "No!" he said excitedly, "They were just footprints Mom! Just footprints in front of me! My footprints! My boot prints! My size! My stride! And they were just there out of nowhere! When I looked around me, there were no other footprints but my own behind me and the the ones in front of me. None! Well, except for some dog prints, but just like the other prints, they were just there in front of me out of nowhere! And you know the weirdest thing? They led right up to our apartment building!"
"Oh thank you Jesus!" I said, "you did send an angel!"
"Jamie, that was your angel I prayed for. And maybe it was your older brother I told you you should have had. I believe God sent this angel to be your protector and guide. As for the dog prints, who knows? Maybe they were Mugsy's!" (He was a dog we had 'lost' years earlier, whom Jamie grew up with and loved very much) Jamie's last reply before going to his bedroom was so comforting to me, because at that time, he never admitted to believing in anything and wouldn't even go to church anymore, although at the age of 5 he was going to be a preacher, just like ours. He said..."It was so cool Mom." "Man!". Then he turned and walked down the hall with a very peaceful look on his facse. Something I hadn't seen very often. In fact, not in years.
I know some of you reading this think it is wrong to believe or hope that Jamie's Angel was his brother. Now I think perhaps not, but there is one thing I do know with no doubt in my mind. Jesus did send an angel that night to guide Jamie home, simply because I asked, and because He loves us that much!! Nothing we ask is too great or too small for Him. I also know that Angel of encouragement, whoever he is, was sent to administer love and assurance to me as well as Jamie that night. I will never forget it and will always be grateful for it.
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