One of the authors I believe I can count on is Lorna Byrne, who wrote Angels in My Hair. You may remember her; she has seen angels since she was a little girl, but thought everyone saw them. She has had a difficult life, but the angels are still advising her. I’m recommending that you read an article she wrote recently for the Huffington Post, of all places. Here goes:

“As the Sikh man walked towards the circle of unlit candles he was surrounded by angels. Behind him stood his guardian angel and as he reached to taper out to light the candle, his guardian angel reached out as if to hold the taper with him. The Sikh man lit one of the candles on the table. Beside each of the candles stood a very tall angel, dwarfing both the people and the other angels in the room. Their folded wings reached far up above the ceiling which seemed to have disappeared.

“These angels all looked alike. They appeared to be draped in golden robes which fell in perfect folds. The angels were so bright, and the light from them radiated out into the room.

“A Hindu man was next in a line of people to light a candle, each one representing a different faith. They included Jews, Quakers, Buddhists, Catholics, Eastern Orthodox, Unitarians and Muslims. Each person was surrounded by angels and behind each of them stood their guardian angel.

‘I was extremely moved and delighted watching this scene. I had never seen so many people from different faiths gathered together in the same place for prayer. It wasn’t an extraordinary place — it was in fact an ordinary conference room in a hotel outside Dublin, where a multi-faith event I had been asked to speak at was being held. By their abundance and radiance, the angels were clearly showing me their approval of different faiths coming together.

“I have been seeing and talking with angels since I was a baby. I see them physically as clearly as I see someone sitting in front of me. I never told anyone about what I was seeing until a few years ago after my husband died and my children were reared. It was only then that I started writing and talking about what I was seeing.

‘I am a Catholic, born into an Ireland that at that time was largely Catholic. From the time I was a baby I saw guardian angels behind each and every person, regardless of religion. In fact like most children I didn’t realize that there were different religions. The first time I got any inkling of the different beliefs people have of God was when I was about six and was walking past a Protestant church near my home with my aunt. I was looking at two big powerful angels who were standing on guard outside the church when my aunt told me I was never to go in there — that that was a Protestant church and no place for any Catholic. I looked at her in bemusement.

‘In the years following, the angels explained to me that different religions have different beliefs, different traditions and different ways of praying. They always emphasized, however, that it was one and the same God and that one day all religions would come together under one umbrella.

”I pray for that day to come, but I fear it may be a long way off.

“What we can do though now is pray together more often. Just as the Olympics brings people of different nationalities and traditions together to play sport, we need to continually seek opportunities to bring people of different faiths together to pray with each other. Praying together will help to lessen fears that people have, will break down cultural differences and will help to lay down a foundation for peace at a local, national and international level.

‘No one ever prays alone. When you pray to God there is a multitude of angels praying with you, regardless of your religious faith or what form your prayer takes. It doesn’t matter whether you pray standing, kneeling, lying prostrate or twirling, whether you chant, sing, light candles, or use prayer beads. The angels are there enhancing your prayer, interceding on your behalf and imploring God to grant your prayer.

“Prayer is extremely powerful and the angels have told me that the prayers of people of all religions are equally powerful.

The angels tell me that when people of different religions gather together in prayer it pleases God. That when people of different traditions pray together, it creates a synergy, an intertwining of prayer that makes their prayers even more powerful.”

What do you think of this, friends?
<~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~>

“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.

<~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~>

Mimmo worked all day, pausing only for lunch and an occasional bottle of water.  Finally Jeannette insisted that he stop for the day.  His dinner was getting cold, and night was falling.  Mimmo ate, took a shower, and then came into the kitchen, looking concerned.  “Have you seen my wallet?” he asked Jeannette.  “Did I leave it inside the house?”

His wallet, stuffed with important papers, credit card, his driver’s license and money from a check he had cashed yesterday.  Jeannette had cleaned house, but hadn’t seen the wallet.    “I got gas for the roto tiller earlier,” Mimmo remembered.  “Maybe I left it at the gas station.”  He jumped into his car and raced to the gas station.  He returned a few moments later.  No luck.

Jeannette wondered if Mimmo had put his wallet in the back pocket of his shorts, and it had fallen out while he was working.  “I’m going outside with a flashlight to look around,”she said.  “You’ll never find anything in that big area, even with a light,” Mimmo protested.  Jeannette went out anyway.

Standing in the midst of the garden, however, she realized what a hopeless task it was.  There were piles of debris all over this extremely large plot, and Mimmo might even have covered the wallet with soil, had he not noticed it.  Jeannette turned to prayer.  “God, please show me where the wallet is,” she prayed.  “I need a sign so that Mimmo might believe in you more firmly.”

The instant that she finished, Jeannette heard an inner voice.  “It was my guardian angel,”she says.  “I have heard and felt him before, and I recognized him.”

The voice had specific advice.  “Go to the shed by the lake,” it said.  There was a tool shed far from the house on the edge of the lake, where they kept all their gardening things.  Jeannette walked towards it, still shining her flashlight on the ground.  “I didn’t say on the ground, but in the shed,”the voice came again.  Now there was no doubt.  Jeannette quickened her pace, opened the shed doors and started looking on the ground of the shed.  “Put your hand into the roto tiller,” the voice directed her once more.  Jeannette obeyed.

There, balanced on top of the blade, was Mimmo’s wallet, without a scratch on it.  Never even wondering how a wallet could have gotten on top of a tool, especially a blade that moves, Jeannette ran through the darkness and into the house, thanking God for this gift.  “Mimmo couldn’t believe what he saw,”she says.  “Since then he has become less doubtful, and when things come into our lives that we have no control over, he also turns to the Lord in prayer.”

People who believe they have heard an angel’s voice say that in most cases, the directions are clear and concise, compelling one to believe and do, without question.  How wonderful that we can bring even our smallest problems to the heavenly host, and to the God who gave them to us.

-

We “angels” shop at garage sales, send WalMart certificates or outgrown toys (and occasionally someone packs up a truck and just GOES.)   Occasionally we get a letter from the Cayces, updating the services we have helped to sustain.  It makes me feel as if we are doing what Mother Teresa always suggested,  “Bloom where you are planted.”

If you are already volunteering in your own community or caring for those who need you, please don’t stop.  Cayce Charities is mainly for those who are looking to get involved in something on-going, but there’s no commitment necessary.  We’ll keep you posted.

PS The address is Cayce Charities, 403 South Second Street, Thornton Arkansas 71766

And here’s the story:

On the  day that Amy Pruitt’s little boy was born, the doctors were grim.  Baby Cory had so many physical problems that he was not expected to live past a few hours.  “Don’t even hope,” Amy’s doctor told her, trying to prepare her for the loss.

But Amy was hearing a different voice inside her.  “Somehow I knew that despite his difficulties, Cory would be healthy,” she says.   And her son did make a miraculous recovery.  He was deaf, but this did not intimidate Amy.  “I had always heard that deaf children were easy to raise,” she says.  And Cory’s life seemed to prove it.

He was a bright, sunny little guy, with what seemed to be a deep spiritual connection. When Cory was about eight years old, he asked his mother if she remembered when he was a sick newborn.  “How could I forget?” Amy asked.

“Well,” Cory said, “I saw Jesus then.”

It was a wonderful story.  But could she believe it?  A few years later, Cory fell through the ice on a river, but ended up safely on shore, with no explanation of how he got there.  Later he told Amy that an angel had picked him up and placed him on the shore.  Amy had goosebumps.  The evidence supported Cory’s statement perfectly.

“ Last year a five-year-old friend of ours was in intensive care with a ruptured spleen,” Amy recalls.  “I asked Cory to pray.”  A few hours later Cory came to his mother.  “He looked as if there was a glow of some sort around him,” she says.

“I just finished talking to God,” Cory told her.  “That little kid is going to be fixed.”  The next day the boy was fine. The bleeding had mysteriously stopped in the night.  A few months later, Cory’s grandmother had a massive stroke and it seemed hopeless. Again Cory prayed, and his brother reported that Cory was glowing, and said that Grandma would be fine.  She made a complete recovery.

Just recently Amy was told that her initial belief—that deaf children are easy to raise—was not true.  In fact, most presents major challenges.  And yet “Cory has always been a very good kid, a joy and a gift in our lives,” she says.  The whole family waits to see what will happen next.

Alanus (My Guardian Angel) says: “Praise be to Jesus.”

“I am with you in every present moment. This is true of everyone’s guardian angel. It is our job to help those in our charge to live in Holy Love; but I stand next to you as a Seraphim – the most powerful of all the angels. When you pray, I surround you with ministering angels that carry your prayers to God’s Eternal Throne on High. Therefore, never be discouraged in prayer. Heaven has turned a benevolent ear towards you.”

“Do not be afraid to send me off to serve others. I, like all other Heavenly beings, can bi-locate. Therefore, I can assist others far away and still be with you. That is what it is like to live in Heaven where there is no time or space.”

“I am your strength in your weakness. I am your peace in any anxiety. I can turn the crudeness of people to mildness. I can suggest alternatives in the face of seeming failures or defeat.”

“Therefore, learn to depend on me all the more. I stand at your service – as your guardian and companion.”

From Holy Love Prayer Center
Message line: 440-327-5822

—You know I am not techie, but I will try to explain the newest product in what is becoming my “angel line.” If you are a person who downloads audio books, this is for you. My book, IN THE ARMS OF ANGELS, has just been made into audio. Check it out on amazon.com. (If you can do that, you’re way ahead of me!)

—Finally, let’s close out with a smile. See you next year!

http://www.godtube.com/watch/?v=7PLZZPNX

Here’s something nice, in Portuguese.

http://www.godtube.com/watch/?v=F0M2MJNU

And here’s an Oldie but Goodie.  Have a wonderful and blessed Christmas:

Members of the Gospel Lighthouse Church in Blytheville, Arkansas were preparing to serve Thanksgiving dinner to the needy in their area.  “Fifteen or twenty families had brought our own turkey and trimmings to the church to share, and had made extra food,” explains Jeanne Templeton.  Word had spread, and the volunteers expected a crowd.  Would there be enough to go around?

About eleven, church members took their places in the food line, and someone opened the kitchen door.  People streamed in, each taking a plate and passing it along, cafeteria-style.  So many guests!  Jeanne sliced turkey, scooped mashed potatoes—and sent a silent prayer heavenward.  Lord, let the food last.

Time passed, but the needy kept arriving.  Odd, Jeanne mused.  They weren’t running out of anything.  Even the pans of dressing, which had been few in number when dinner began, still seemed full.  She caught the eye of a perplexed friend spooning vegetables from a seemingly bottomless bowl.  What was going on?

Finally, the last guest accepted a brimming plate.  Jeanne looked at her watch.  Four o’clock!  It couldn’t be!  And there was still food remaining.  Baffled, the women packed the leftovers. “The men carried everything to the church buses, and drove away,” Jeanne recalls.  “They were going to go door to door, to make sure no one in the area had missed Thanksgiving dinner.” The women went back to the empty kitchen and, still somewhat dazed, scoured, tidied—and compared notes.

“Was it my imagination…?”

“No, I saw it too—the turkeys seemed to—to multiply!”

“But we had only six or seven.  How…?”

“Two thousand,” Jeanne murmured.  “I think we fed almost two thousand people.”

Just then a knock sounded on the kitchen door.  A volunteer opened it to a man, a woman and eight young children, all shabbily dressed.  “We’re a little late,” the man acknowledged shyly.  “Would you have anything left from dinner?”

Oh, no!  The women glanced around the spotless kitchen.  All the food was gone—they had put it on the buses themselves.  But they couldn’t turn this hungry group away.   “Come and sit down,” one helper led the family to a table, while the others quickly conferred.  Perhaps there was a store open, or a restaurant in town where they could buy something…

Suddenly someone pointed.  “Look!”

The others turned to stare.  Sitting on a counter in plain view was a freshly baked loaf of bread.  It had not been there moments before, Jeanne knew.  But no one had come to the kitchen except the family, and they had been empty-handed.

“How did we miss this?” Jeanne’s friend cried in astonishment.  She had found an industrial-sized can of green beans and corn in a cupboard.  Another woman peeked under a cabinet.  There on a shelf she had previously wiped clean now sat a large tray of dressing with big chunks of cut-up turkey in it.

“We packed up the containers and sent the family home to enjoy their holiday,” Jeanne says.  Then, tears spilling down their cheeks, the women praised the Lord for His wonderful care. They had offered Him an early birthday present, by caring for the least of His children.  But He had multiplied their gift a hundred-fold, and given them a Christmas they would never forget.

—A reader suggests Dr. John Bissler. He has been a doctor for several years in one of the best children’s hospital in Cincinnati, but he doesn’t turn anyone away, and he removed a large tumor from her kidney when other doctors said it couldn’t be done. (Dr Bissler is one of only two nephrologists in the country involved in this genetic tumor disorder). For parents, the search for medical help is often difficult. Many wind up at Dr. Bissler’s Cincinati Children’s Hospital Medical Center.

“While our patients are seen by an array of physicians, most are in great need of Dr. Bissler, especially for research,” says a hospital spokesman. Dr Bissler is currently raising money so he can travel throughout the world to train other doctors to do this surgery, instead of so many children having to come to Cincinnati to be treated by him. If he raises a million dollars, the hospital will match it.

Any donation is welcome; send to Cincinnati Children’s Hospital Medical Center, 3333 Burnet Avenue, Cincinnati, Ohio 45229. On the envelope attention to: Jennifer Barlow. And the checks should be made out to TSC Nephrology Fellowship.

—Now that the holidays are approaching, many of you are starting a gift bag or two for the impoverished people in Thornton Arkansas. This small town has little or no jobs available and has always been poor, but a wonderful family (the Cayces) has supplemented their lack for over 40 years. We got involved several years ago, and those of us looking for a charity were delighted to find an outlet for garage sale finds, outgrown shoes and, during the holidays, the toys, candy and Wal-Mart gift cards that help the children have a happy and memorable day. We can talk a little more about Thornton next time: JoAnn Cayce Charities, 403 South Second Street, Thornton AR 71766

—Finally, my own commercial: I now have written seven books on angels and miracles (as well as a humor book for Mom), and I can’t imagine a better time of year to give these as gifts. Many families approach my signing table to tell me they are each buying a different book and then trading them; others feature these at their book clubs. Check amazon.com or if you want an autographed copy, go to my website, http://joanwanderson.com then click on BOOKS and follow order directions. I suspect the angels will be pleased. And here’s our story:

Pam had been praying hard for a pressing family matter that didn’t seem to be improving. Her city had just had a snowfall, and she was driving towards the downtown area when a middle-aged man waded into the drifts and flagged down her car. Pam noticed a second man standing on the sidewalk. By his ragged clothes, she assumed he was a street person.
“Can you give us a ride to my house?” asked the stranger who had signaled her. “I’ve been trying to get a cab, but in this weather there are none to be found. I met this man who has no place to go, and I want to bring him home, feed him and let him spend the night in a warm place.”
Pam and her husband belonged to a group that fed the homeless one evening each month, but she had never been asked for a favor such as this. And yet she didn’t hesitate, even when she learned that the man’s house was almost five miles away. “Of course,” she said. “Get in.”
The homeless stranger never said a word on the journey, but Pam and the other man felt immediate ease with each other, and enjoyed a spiritually uplifting conversation for awhile, then lapsed into a companionable silence.
They were almost to the house when the man turned to Pam. “Miss, you know that family problem you’ve been so worried about? Don’t worry. Everything is going to be all right.” Pam’s mouth dropped. How had he known? As she pulled up to the front of the house, he and the homeless man got out, thanked her and walked quickly away.
Pam sat for a moment. How odd that she had not been afraid to let two strangers get into her car, or to drive them in difficult weather conditions. And how did they know of the problem she had been praying about?
Peace filled her as she started the car up again. She could leave everything in God’s hands, she realized. Obviously he had sent an angel (or perhaps even two!) to tell her so.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Unless you live in a cave, you know that Steve Jobs, the founder of Apple and the man who transformed consumer technology, died on October 5th at the age of 56. He had fought cancer in recent years and received a liver transplant in 2009. In August he stepped down as Apple’s chief executive, looking frail despite his unending effort to maintain his enthusiasm for life, but his death still came as a shock to many in Silicon Valley and across the world.

As with any beloved person, the special people in Jobs’ life were with him at the end—his wife, four children, his sister, his biographer and several close friends. There was another element to his final day, however, that perhaps was a parting gift to those left behind.

Steve Jobs was a Catholic until he entered college and became interested in Eastern religions. He dropped out of college, took a trip to India to find enlightenment, and returned a Zen Buddhist, with the appreciation for simplicity that would influence his decisions at Apple.

The interesting part of this was that later, after his cancer diagnosis, Jobs seemed to turn away from Eastern-based faith, and professed a new-found uncertainty as to whether or not God exists. “I’m about 50-50 on believing in God,” he told his biographer. “I really want to believe that something survives, that maybe your consciousness endures.”

Then came the last day, when Jobs went in and out of awareness, gazing at his loved ones, falling asleep and waking again, with longer intervals between. Then, as his sister recently revealed, a few hours before his departure, Steve awakened for the last time. He was looking towards the middle of the room when everyone heard him say, “Oh wow. Oh wow. Oh wow.”

As we angel-believers know, final words and/or visions are not unusual. This happening, however, seems extra special, 1) because Jobs was so famous as a man of science, and 2) because toward the end of his life he was seeking spiritual answers—and not only found them, but passed them along to witnesses.

Just something to think about. See you next week with a fun video to share.

Thanks to everyone who voted and submitted a picture for the contest. We really appreciate everyone’s enthusiasm and participation. We will publish all the winners on “Angelic Tails’” Facebook page, so stop by to see your pooch!