Fran H. has been subscribing to this newsletter since it began, because she is a big fan of angels and saints. In fact, when she was six years old, she slipped into a coma due to encephalitis. In those days, this serious disease took many victims, and things did not look good for Fran. “My dear Mom and Dad prayed with St Theresa, the Little Flower, and today I’m a wife, mother and grandmother,” Fran says. “Do I believe in prayer and angels? You bet!”

People often ask how they can “get in touch with their guardian angel.” Unless you spend time with a friend, it’s difficult to recognize his voice, isn’t it? The same is true with angels: they want to be in touch so they can guide and comfort you, and keep you on the path that leads to God. The more time you spend with them, the closer you will come to that unity. To Fran, it’s natural:

“I was sitting at St. John Neumann’s Shrine on his feast day in the church upstairs,” she says. “There were hundreds of people there, waiting to attend mass, and the choir boys were lining up in the back,” she says. Suddenly Fran got the urge to go to confession before Mass, but there were no lights on in any of the confessionals. (Lights on means a priest is hearing confession inside.) However, she did see a priest coming down the aisle toward her, AWAY from the confessionals. Fran has a deep friendship with her guardian angel, so what happened next was not unusual.

“Angel,” Fran began, “would you please go to the guardian angel of that priest that just passed me? Ask him to go to Our Lady’s Chapel on the side of the church. Oh, and let there be no one there but him, and me.” This was a challenge, she realized. With a crowd like this, many would want to go to confession.

Then, as Fran watched, the priest—who had appeared to be leaving the church—-turned, went up the side aisle to Our Lady’s Chapel, and went in. Quickly, Fran followed him up the aisle, and into the Chapel, where he was standing, looking a bit perplexed.

When he saw her, he smiled. “Hello,” he said. “Are you the woman who asked my angel to tell me to come here for a confession?”

Joy raced through Fran. She was never surprised at what her angel would do for her, but she was always thrilled at how things worked out. “Yes, Father, that’s me,” she said. In complete understanding, priest and penitent celebrated the sacred ritual. “It was a wonderful confession,” Fran says. “And no one came into the Chapel the entire time.”

Start asking your angel for small favors, and be sure to say thank you. Then watch what happens!

Father Joe prepares the Holy Oil with his core group several times a year, using olive oil from Italy, and dried rose petals from various shrines. During this time, he reads the entire book of Tobit (not included in Protestant Bibles), hears confessions, says Holy mass over the oil and blesses it, then conducts a healing service. The oil is then put into little bottles and sent to people who have requested it. In Hebrew, “Raphael” means “medicine of God,” and many healings have been reported from people who have used the holy oil. If you have an ill loved one (and he/she does NOT have to be Catholic), you can receive a prayer card and some oil by contacting Father Joe Whalen, M. S., St. James Church, 12 Franklin Street, Danielson CT 06239. Holy oil can never be sold, but if you can make a donation to cover the cost of postage or further the ministry, that’s fine. If you can’t, no problem. The Archangel Raphael loves all God’s children.

(C) 2006 Joan Wester Anderson www.joanwanderson.com

Many people do not realize that in addition to his other spiritual gifts, Padre Po frequently communicated with angels. Quite often, for example, the Padre would read or speak in languages he didn’t know. When asked how he could do it, he said that the angels translated for him. Several of his fellow monks often heard voices singing in beautiful harmony, but could not identify the music’s source. Padre Pio would explain that the voices belonged to angels, escorting souls into heaven. One of his assistants had a habit of oversleeping, and frequently was awakened by a loud knock on his bedroom door. But when he opened the door, no one was ever there. One morning he apologized for his ongoing tardiness to Padre Pio, and the elderly monk admonished him: “Do you think I will continue to send my Guardian Angel to awaken you every day? You’d better buy a new clock!”

Padre Pio believed that people could ask their own angels to go to someone else to help or intercede. He encouraged his friends to send their angels with messages to him if they could not reach him any other way. Once a young mother, terrified over her infant’s failing health, asked the baby’s angel to carry a request for prayers to Padre Pio. Within minutes, the baby shivered—as if something had touched her—and soon was sent home by mystified physicians from the intensive care unit. The Padre did remind people that not everyone who prayed for a physical healing—even with true faith—would receive it. But they would all receive peace.

Although Padre Pio is now in heaven, his help continues. Recently, one woman, Doris, was asked by a friend to pray for her—the friend was undergoing tests to see if her cancer had spread. Doris asked Padre Pio to intercede for her friend, and received an inner thought that her friend would be fine. On the morning of the tests, both women met at mass. “I intended to walk my friend out to the parking lot afterwards,” Doris said, “but I was distracted. By the time I got out there, I saw her car backing up.” There was a man sitting next to this woman in the car. At first Doris assumed that it was her friend’s husband (although why had he not been at mass?) “But when the car changed direction, I saw the man’s face,” Doris recalls. “He had a beard and her husband doesn’t.” The man turned around, smiled directly at Doris and put his hand up. It was Padre Pio…

“Later my friend confirmed that she had been alone in her car, at least she thought so,” Doris says. “And her tests were fine.” Doris was not surprised. Each day she thanks God for the gift of Padre Pio. To find out more about this amazing saint, go to www.padrepio.com
(C) 2002 Joan Wester Anderson www.joanwanderson.com

When Nell Berry gave birth to her third child over forty years ago, her then-physician mentioned that, since she nursed all her children (a not-too-common practice in those days), in his opinion, she would probably never have breast cancer. “The next years were worry-free for me,” Nell says. “I never gave breast cancer a thought.”

Then, a few years ago, her physician scheduled a routine mammogram. Nell had had two previous ones, which weren’t absolutely normal, so her physician wanted to keep an eye on things. This time, the technician was visibly concerned. He ordered an ultra-sound for Nell. “The results showed a tumor about the size of a pencil eraser,” Nell says. “They immediately scheduled a biopsy.”

Nell’s husband, her son (an anesthesiologist), and one of her daughters insisted on being with her for the test. There were a lot of people praying for her as well—word had gone out on the prayer chains in her community. “I was amazed at how calm I was,” Nell says. “Previously, just the word “cancer” might have thrown me into a tizzy.” Even when she discovered that the tumor was malignant, and she’d have to have a lumpectomy, Nell remained tranquil.

After surgery, Nell was scheduled for six weeks of radiation, a dose every day at the cancer clinic. At this point, the World Trade Center disaster had happened, and of course Nell couldn’t help but be depressed about that too. Despite her firm faith in Jesus, she expected to struggle through her therapy. But the Lord had other plans.

“I write poetry, so I wrote a spiritual one about the tragedy,” Nell says. “On an impulse, I brought it with me one morning to the clinic for the techs to read. I hoped to just brighten their day a little, but they seemed thrilled with it. One emailed a copy to several radio stations, asking if they would read it, and they did. Another framed a copy, and hung it on the waiting room wall.”

The techs wanted more, so during the next few weeks, Nell wrote poems about God’s love in the midst of crisis, of her faith in Him, no matter what. “I brought in a stack one morning, and the receptionist made them into a booklet for the waiting room. The next thing I knew, other patients were reading them.” Nell had never dreamed she would reach this many people with her thoughts, much less be a witness for the Lord. It was an unexpected blessing in the midst of difficult times.

Another gift was the attention and concern of her busy family. Her children and grandchildren surrounded her, and she was able to catch up on all their news. Her son and his wife had taken a college student from China into their home, and Nell not only got to know Lucy well, Lucy began calling her “Grandma.”

“My granddaughter Laura spent a few days with me too, so my husband could go duck-hunting,” Nell recalls. “Laura drove me everywhere, bought me comfy tee-shirts to wear.. she was an angel. And my daughter-in-law, who home-schools her children, did everything in her power to make me comfortable when I stayed with her.” Love seemed to be all around her. And the prayers and other offers of help continued to flow.

Nell is feeling much better now. And although she wouldn’t have chosen this particular road, she sees many good things that came from it. “It wasn’t a bed of roses,” she points out. “But I believe there are blessings in any circumstance, no matter what it is, if only we look for them. I hope others in my situation do that. They’ll be amazed.”

(C) 2002 Joan Wester Anderson www.joanwanderson.com

Kathy’s mother had been to her physician, and he had found a spot on her lung, which appeared to be cancer. The entire family was shaken. Kathy’s sister drove in from Phoenix, and the family prepared themselves for possible bad news. After several tests seemed to confirm the diagnosis, the doctor scheduled surgery.

Kathy’s sister had to return to Arizona due to obligations there, but was not looking forward to the long solitary drive from Wichita to Phoenix. She asked Kathy to ride with her and then fly back to Wichita, using the remaining half of a ticket which her husband had left over from a previous trip to Phoenix. When Kathy phoned the airlines to make sure this procedure was acceptable, however, she received several contradictory responses. “No, it’s impossible to use that ticket for yourself,” one representative told her. Said another, “You can use it but by the time you pay all the penalties and fees, you might just as well buy a new ticket.” The last word she received was “Well, go ahead, but come to our offices in Tempe, when you get here, and we’ll see what we can do but there will be extra charges.” Kathy was not working full time, and with three children, money was tight. Her husband encouraged her to go, however, and they would figure out the finances later.

“There are times in our lives when we feel so worried, weary and frightened that we would just like to grasp SOMETHING and have it work out smoothly,” Kathy says. “It did not look like this was going to be one of those times. I was feeling very intimidated and OLD. I was sure that I would be met in Tempe with resistance but ‘resistance’ would be wearing spiked heels, blond hair, and lip gloss and would be younger than most of my husband’s underwear!! And I would look stupid and doddering. (You could say that I really was obsessing on this.)”

Nonetheless, her sister needed her, so the two drove from Wichita to Phoenix, praying along the way for their mother’s health. The day after they arrived, Kathy was to appear at the Tempe airlines offices. “As I lay in bed that morning, trying to gather my courage, I prayed to my guardian angel Izabel, (I call her Izzy),” says Kathy. “I asked her to please speak to the guardian angels of the people I’d be meeting at the airlines office, to soften their hearts.” (Pope John XXIII was known for doing this very thing.) “I also asked Izzy to check in with my mother’s guardian angel and to please keep Mom safe and well. I put on my guardian angel pin and off we went.”

Security at the airlines was very tight and as Kathy entered the building, an armed guard met her and asked numerous questions. There were several “Ms. Blond High Heels With Lip Gloss” too, floating from office to office, and Kathy did indeed feel intimidated by their confident attitudes. Touching her angel pin, she reminded Izzy of her needs.

“After a few minutes I heard a lovely ‘grandmotherly’ voice call me by name into her office,” Kathy says. “She was a petite woman with a few gray hairs (just like me) and a welcoming smile. She said her name was Rose and asked how she could help me.” Kathy explained the situation.

“Why that’s no problem,” Rose assured her. “We can change your ticket, and there’ll be no charge.” Tears welled in Kathy’s eyes. The whole thing had been so simple—why had she dreaded it? The two women visited for awhile, and as Rose presented Kathy with the new ticket, she pulled aside her own cardigan. “I like your angel pin,” Rose said, smiling. Kathy was astonished. Rose was wearing three angel pins on her blouse.

Kathy enjoyed a few days in Phoenix with her sister, then flew home. She was beginning to realize that she had been in the presence of angels ever since this family situation had begun, and she had a hunch that everything would work out just fine.

“My mother had her surgery a few days later,” Kathy says. “There was no sign of cancer. Actually the pathology report showed the lesion to be an encapsulated area of Valley Fever which Mom had probably picked up during one of her visits to Phoenix.”

Was it a miracle? Kathy will never know for sure. But were angels near? She has no doubt.

(C) 2002 Joan Wester Anderson www.joanwanderson.com

Dear Joan,

My name is Cindy Bonner and I attend a regular Baptist church here in Grand Rapids, Michigan. The people of my church believe in angels, but don’t consider talking with an angel an option. So I try not to tell anyone (who might downgrade my experiences) that several times in my life I have felt angels working around me, mostly in times of danger, but not always. Just as people can be our friends, my angel is a dear friend to me. He knows everything about me, and I have nothing to hide from him.

The first time I met my angel in a dream. We flew around and had fun, and he asked me to pray for him. Which really surprised me, why would an angel want ME to pray for him?

In the next dream, we were doing what kids do, playing in the snow. I asked him his name and at first he didn’t respond. Then, after telling me that he loved me very much, he said his name was Alex. I asked him why we were to pray for angels, and he said that angels are created beings, and they need God’s help too sometimes. We don’t see how evil forces are fought by angels, but we can see in the Bible that angels have to fight to protect us, and sometimes to get to us, like in Daniel, when the angel told him that he had to fight the Prince of Persia, to reach Daniel with God’s answer to his prayers.

I don’t see Alex in dreams much anymore; instead I can feel him around me. When I am in serious danger, mostly spiritual danger, he gets out the flaming sword. The first time he did that, it nearly scared me silly! But I knew that he wasn’t going to strike unless the danger came too close.

I try very hard to keep praying for Alex and all the angels that assist him in his efforts for my well being. I know there are times when I need more than one angel around.

Once, years ago, my husband and I were visiting my parents in the Chicago area, and we went to a store. As we came out, there were two men walking toward us. They didn’t speak, but immediately I felt the utter joy of Alex greeting friends, the angels of these two men. We passed the men, but they turned and came after us, asking if they might pray with us. My husband replied ‘Yes, as long as we can pray for you’. We had a little prayer meeting in the middle of the parking lot! Of course the angels were delighted, and I told the two men about my angel’s reaction to their angels, and they simply smiled. We just took it in stride that God was working in us. God does those things.

I believe that we are intelligent creatures, but we should live realizing there are other dimensions to our world, the spiritual realm being the one we know of. Angels dwell in that realm, and are governed by its rules, just as we are bound to gravity and the rules of the Bible.

God is sovereign, and you don’t go around telling him what to do. He tells us what to do. That is why he is the King of Kings. I do believe that God still heals however. I just think he is more discreet than people think. He likes quiet places, he likes people to honor him before they honor themselves. So He is that still small voice and he is not flamboyant or rude in making himself known.

I think we need balance, spiritually, physically, and emotionally. God provides for all these things. He made us, it stands to reason that he can provide for us. He gave us his word, so we could learn about him. He gave us the Holy Spirit so we could understand and love him, and he gave us angels to walk with us, and protect us from the things we can’t see, that attack us daily, both physical and spiritual.

Angels do not replace our walk with Christ, they just enhance it. They are our friends and co-workers, in the Lord, designed to be helpers and to watch over us. If we want to talk to them, I believe that God permits it. If not, then I think God will permit that as well. Physically, I do not see Alex, but I don’t have to. It is not necessary for my spiritual well being. I am content that he is near me always. I never feel alone. Because I am not alone. Jesus Christ rules my life, and I am his servant. Alex just adds to my joy in the Lord, like any good friend would.

Sincerely,
Cindy Bonner bonnie14god @ comcast.net

(C) Copyright 2007 www.joanwanderson.com

Returning to Boston from a Gordon Conference held in Tipton New Hampshire, Albert and his  colleague, Prof. Eric Lien, were fortunate to be the first to get on the bus, and they chose the right hand front seat with the best view.  Two other colleagues from Germany sat across the aisle.  At first Eric and Albert discussed the technical papers given at the conference, but then Eric asked Albert if Albert would give him some personal advice.  He began by saying, “I saw you reading ‘God and the New Physics’ during the breaks in the conference, Al.  Are you a religious person?”

“I try to be,” Albert said.  Eric then proceeded to briefly summarize his life, and what had  led to his present problem.  He was born and raised in Taiwan by parents who practiced a form of Confucianism that he respected but was not drawn to.  When some Christian missionaries located in their area, Eric’s parents allowed him to attend their classes, but after hearing that ‘only those professing Jesus Christ would be saved’ he decided that Christianity had no appeal for him either, believing that his parents were too good to be damned for all eternity.  Later he emigrated to the U.S. to complete his education and there met Linda, a practicing Christian, and they were married.  Eric had no objections to Linda and their children practicing Christianity, but he thought it would be hypocritical for him to do so.  But as their kids began to ask why Dad did not attend church services with them, Linda began to hint that Eric accompany them.  It was putting a little pressure on their marriage, but Eric remembered the missionaries’ narrow teaching and felt he had to refuse Linda as a matter of principle.

When he finished this brief ‘biography’, Eric turned to Albert and asked:  “Al, what do you think is the answer to my problem?”

Albert had anticipated this question while Eric was speaking, but now he was at a loss how to answer it honestly. Meanwhile traffic had slowed on the approach to a bridge leading into the city, and just before the bus came to a complete halt, and before Albert could answer Eric, a white panel truck pulled directly in front, clearly visible through the large windshield.  The only message on the truck was written in large blue script:  “Don’t worry; Be happy; God loves you.”

“We both looked at it for a few seconds,” Albert says.  “Then I turned to Eric and said:  “That answers you better than I ever could.”  Across the aisle, our two German colleagues who undoubtedly had been listening to our conversation burst out laughing.  Prof. Kubinyi slapped his knee and said:  “Al, how did you manage to do that?”  But I had nothing to do with it.  God decided to use a little humor to teach four scientists a simple lesson.”

Signs and wonders—they can be very small.  And yet even the most minor event can have heavenly meaning if we’re open to it.

(C) 2006  Joan Wester Anderson  www.joanwanderson.com

One day that summer, Kathy went to a nearby town, Jenny in tow, to pick up a few things at the grocery store. After she had finished, Kathy strapped Jenny into her car seat, put the groceries in the car and started home. “I pulled out onto the side street, crossed the railroad track and stopped at the traffic light, waiting to cross a four lane highway,” Kathy says. “When the light turned green, I started to do what I always did in those days—I started to accelerate without first looking for any moving traffic.”

But as soon as Kathy pressed the gas pedal, she heard a man’s stern voice. “NO!” he urgently commanded her. It sounded, Kathy says, like a voice that one would hear inside one’s head, yet it also seemed to come from behind her, as if from the back seat. Kathy was so startled and surprised that she immediately obeyed, and took her foot off the accelerator for a few seconds. Then again, feeling the voice must have been her imagination, she started to accelerate. “This time there was no voice, but I had an overwhelming feeling come over me that I should not yet go. And it seemed as if my foot was being involuntarily moved away from the gas pedal. I could not believe what was happening!”

For the third time, Kathy attempted to accelerate—and then she saw it. A car on the highway, flying through its red light in the intersection, at a speed that was certainly above the limit. She was stunned! If she had not hesitated those few seconds, she would have been crossing the intersection when the car on the highway was running its red light. She would have been broadsided and, given the speed of the other car, she and the baby would probably have been killed.

“I have thought about that experience many times through the years,” Kathy says today. “I had two more daughters after that happened. And now Jenny is grown with two children of her own. I have often wondered why I received divine intervention—was it because my other two daughters needed to be born? Was it because Jenny needed to be on this earth longer? Was it because her two children needed to be born, or their children? It’s interesting to think that maybe it was me that needed to be here longer. I am guilty of thinking I don’t make much of a difference.”

These are good questions, the kind we all wonder about, from time to time. We can only see a part of God’s plan with our earthly eyes. But whatever happens—even after generations have passed—is all part of His perfect arrangements. In some way, each one of us makes a difference.

All Kathy knows is that one day 24 years ago, her guardian angel became a very real part of her life. “I may never know why my guardian angel came that day, but maybe knowing why isn’t the point,” she says. “Maybe the point is simply to remember, be thankful, and just live life as best I know.”

(C) 2006 Joan Wester Anderson www.joanwanderson.com

At precisely 7:30 a.m., Nancy sleepily opened her eyes—and realized that she was staring right into the face of an angel. “Of course I was about to drop off, thinking I was dreaming, when I opened my eyes again—and she was still there!” The angel smiled as if to say, “This is real!” and then faded away. A few minutes later, in the shower, Nancy remembered her sleepy request for an angel to wake her. “So in the shower I am reaffirming to myself—they listen! They listen! This is so wonderful! They hear!” she said.

A little while later, Nancy got in her car, put the key in the ignition—and heard nothing. She opened the hood to discover that her battery had been stolen. Obviously she was not going to make it to church. “This is not the first time my car has been vandalized, and the last two time it wrecked my day,” Nancy says. But today she remembered the angels and realized the smile was still on her face. She was calm too. “I thought—It is only a battery and I think I know who stole it, and I began to send kind thoughts and prayers and light to this person. Not because stealing is okay, but I knew that the possible thief has serious emotional problems, and stealing—for him—is a cry for help.”

Still completely tranquil, Nancy walked back to her place, wearing that slight smile on her face. She phoned a friend she hadn’t talked to in awhile, hoping he might suggest what she should do about the battery. “But this friend had been wanting to talk to me about some spiritual experiences and some religious information I needed. We talked for an hour.” What an odd time for a discussion of this type. But when else might the two of them have been able to converse? Afterwards Nancy (still calm) called the police and reported the stolen battery.

Odd, she was thinking, but the whole day was like being “in church. Not in a building, but in a place of relevance.” Nancy’s friend, who ultimately found her a free battery and installed it despite the busyness of his own day, commented that “none of us can save the world, but we can each do our own little bit to help….” and the simple observation felt so profound to Nancy that she wondered if the angels had put those words in his mind.

Nancy believes that by letting go of any anger that might have surrounded her, she not only wasn’t personally harmed by this situation, but had a day filled with “the best sermon anyone ever thought of preaching outside a church wall.” Not only do angels guide us through life’s minor snares, she believes, they are always there to help us deepen our faith and learn to walk the way of the Kingdom.

(C) 2006 Joan Wester Anderson www.joanwanderson.com