WHERE ANGELS WALK, Jan 22, 2012, The Voice

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January 22, 2012

Rose Williamson, of San Francisco, said goodbye to her girlfriend, who stepped off the bus and disappeared into the night. The two young women had seen a movie together after work, and were taking the bus home, as they often did. It was dark and by now the streets were quiet, but even though Rose’s family was away, she took this route regularly and had never found any reason to fear.

“When we reached my stop, I got off the bus, and started walking down the hill toward my house,” Rose says. “I noticed an elderly couple walking slowly ahead of me.” Rose followed them. All seemed perfectly normal.

“Then I heard a voice,” Rose says. “Not audible, like your voice or mine. It seemed to come from within and alongside me at the same time.”

“Reach into your pocket and take out your keys, but don’t jiggle them,” the voice said.

Rose was amazed. Was it talking to her? “I wasn’t frightened,” she says. “The voice was kind and loving, as if I was walking alongside my mother.”

The voice gave more instructions. “Hold the key in position with the notches up,” it said.

Rose’s family lived in a Victorian house with a heavy glass front door. She realized that in this position, the key would slide smoothly into the keyhole with no delay.

By now the elderly couple—the only people left on the street—reached the corner and turned right. Rose followed, straining to hear footsteps. But she heard nothing, and the voice had not finished yet. “When you cross the street, don’t go down the right side of the street as you usually do,” it directed. “Instead, go kitty-corner.”

Rose obeyed, walking at a normal pace. What was it all about? She was afraid to turn around, to see if anyone was behind her. And yet a part of her still felt safe. She approached her own block, went down the street, and then….

RUN! The voice told her. NOW!

Racing past the neighbor’s house, up the step, sliding the key smoothly into the lock, thrusting open the door and slamming it behind her.. She was in! Rose turned back and looked through the heavy beveled glass door.

Looking back at her was a man, his hands up against the glass. She had missed him by inches.

Resisting the impulse to scream, Rose raced up the stairs. It was dark on the second floor, since no one was home, but she raised a slat from the venetian blinds and peeked out. The man was crossing the street now, walking toward an apartment building. Under the streetlight he turned back, and looked at Rose’s house. Rose could see him clearly, but she had no idea who he was. Slowly, head hanging, he walked down the hill, turned the corner and was gone. She was never to see him again.

“I wonder if he was puzzled that I got away, when I never heard his footsteps,” Rose says. He didn’t know that a very special guardian was at work.

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