Sunday, May 20, 2007

Angels

Have you ever actually seen your guardian angel? According to Catholic author, Joan Wester Anderson, many people have. She has written a number of books on the subject, and this article has some fascinating counts of heavenly intercession in people's lives. Here is one of those stories from the article that involve the author's son.

It was 30 degrees below zero, with temperatures expected to dip frighteningly lower by Christmas Eve, and Joan Wester Anderson’s son, Tim, was, against advice, driving home from college in the Midwest to his parents’ home near Chicago, Ill.

Already all major highways in the area had been shut down as a white-out obliterated all landmarks in wind-whipped swirls of snow.

These were the days before cell phones and Anderson was sure that if her son was any place safe, he would have called to ease her fears. Six hours past his scheduled arrival, she began to pray. “I remember thinking for the first time that Tim wasn’t going to be coming home,” she said. “And I remember crying out to God in a way that I never did before: ‘God, God, you’ve got to send someone.’”

Meanwhile, her son and his friend, taking what they had been told was a shortcut through frozen cornfields, sat hopelessly lost in their stalled car, knowing full well they would soon freeze to death, and they began to pray.

Suddenly, the inside of the car was filled with light. Behind them was a tow truck, its headlights shining through the snow. “Need a tow?” asked the bundled up stranger tapping on the car window. He deftly hooked up their car, towing them back to the classmate’s home they had left earlier.

When Tim and his friend stumbled, near frozen, from the car to thank the driver who had saved their lives, they discovered both he and his tow-truck had vanished, leaving no tracks in the snow. It was a while before Tim told his mother about this.

1 comment:

Adoro te Devote said...

I can tell a couple of stories.

Mom tells of one in which she, my brother, and I, (when we were very little) were lost somewhere, it was during a blizzard, and there was nowhere to go. I actually have a very vague memory of that night and the biggest thing I remember was Mom's complete panic...and then we saw, in the middle of the darkness, the lights of a store or gas station or something.

We stopped there for awhile, Mom was grateful, and we were bustled out of the car and into the little cafe or something. People were very nice, etc. I can't remember anything other than that.

Mom tried to find the place either the next day or something, to thank the people there for helping her, and it was gone. It had been an abandoned gas station for YEARS.

I wish I could remember more and Mom doesn't have the mental capacity anymore to write this stuff down. (she used to be such a writer! But she never wrote her stories)

My own story, a recent one:

I joked with the Recovering Dissident (a friend) that I would love to be there for her Confirmation, but couldn't since I was sponsoring someone else and of course present at our Easter Vigil as one of the RCIA team members. So I told her I'd send my Guardian Angel to greet her for me at the correct time. Of course, we'll never know, but I'm certain he went.

A couple weeks ago, when I was to have my job interview, she had told me she would send HER Guardian Angel with me when I went.

That morning, (of the interview) I was walking my dogs before work as usual when suddenly I had a sense of another presence joining us, and I can't explain it. That presence brought my friend with her, and somehow I recognized Cathy's angel and I greeted him. I can't explain this, either.

When I got home, I sat down with my morning coffee and checked email, and there was a message from Cathy, reiterating that she was sending her Angel to me later that afternoon before the interview to be sure I'd get there safely.

The message was sent at exactly the time on the walk during which I'd sensed his presence.

It's so hard to explain in physical terms the things that happen to us on the metaphysical level.