Author Joan Wester Anderson fascinates and inspires with stories of modern-day miracles and how they touch us

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Krysta’s cousin had been in an accident, and Krysta was distraught.  Why did bad things happen to good people? she wondered. It is the age-old question. Just before Krysta’s cousin died, the family members with her saw her talking to someone.  Krysta wondered if it had been an angel.

“I didn’t know very much about them, but I began looking for angel books and reading everything I could find, at times until early in the morning,” Krysta says.  “I needed to hear stories told by others.  As I read, I experienced a lot of peace and happiness.  And yet I was skeptical.  I wasn’t sure that God was everywhere, or that He always knew what was happening to me.  I asked Him to send me an answer, a little sign, to assure me that I was not alone.” 

Krysta’s husband worked at night, so she was always alone with her two young children---a newborn and a toddler---during the night.  The children slept upstairs and Krysta’s bedroom was on the first floor with no windows in it, so everything was very dark. She did have a baby monitor, however, so she could hear if either child awakened or cried out during the night.

One morning Krysta awakened, and heard little noises coming through the intercom from her three-month-old.  It sounded as if the baby was cooing contentedly.  But as she listened more closely, Krysta heard something else. It was a woman’s voice!  “Don't be afraid. I am always with you,” came the soft words. 

Krysta leaped out of bed and tore up the stairs.  There was no way anyone could have left the upstairs room without meeting Krysta on the way up.  But there was the baby alone in her crib, wide awake, still cooing and looking at the ceiling.

Had it been a dream?  Krysta didn’t think so.  She had read enough angel books by now to know that little children often seen angels.  They are so close to heaven, after all.  But it was the sign she had been looking for. Krysta never wondered if God would forget her again.       

(C) 2004  Joan Wester Anderson  www.joanwanderson.com

 
   

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