Both women were “addicts.” “We would talk about what we found and what we bought, and Mom would let me know if I had stumbled upon an especially good bargain.” One night, as they chattered on, Dale realized something. The barriers that always seemed to be between them were gone. “This call was different,” she says. “We really talked. Everything just seemed to open up and the conversation was truly mother-daughter.. When we finally hung up I noticed that we had been on the phone almost three hours.” Dale felt so good. Maybe their relationship would continue along this closer, more satisfying path.

Dale’s mother would be out of town the following Saturday, so no phone call was planned. On Monday morning, however, Dale’s brother called her. “Mom got home okay, but she’s in the hospital,” he said. “She’s had a stroke and it doesn’t look good.”

Dale was shocked. How could this happen? Quickly she made travel arrangements and soon arrived at her mother’s bedside. Her mother never emerged from her coma, and died a few days later. “Through everything, I kept thinking back to that last talk we had,” Dale says. “It was so comforting, and I was glad we had shared that good conversation.”

But life without her mother was difficult. “I really missed my mom,” she says, “and I kept longing to talk to her one more time. Sometimes I prayed that I could have a sign that all was well with her.” Dale had stopped going to garage sales too. The memories were just too difficult.

The second anniversary of Dale’s mother’s death was approaching, when Dale had an unexpected weekend off from work. Her thoughts turned to her mother as she ran errands and tried to ignore the garage sale signs that seemed to be everywhere. She would never be able to go to another one…. “I was heading back to my house when I saw a group of signs all in a row,” she says. “I intended to turn, but instead it seemed as if the car just kept going straight, following those signs.” The signs led to a particular yard, and Dale pulled up in front and stopped. Somehow she knew she was supposed to be there, but the thought didn’t keep her from trembling just a little, as she got out of the car.

At first glance, the merchandise all looked like junk that she would never buy. What was she doing here? Then she felt drawn to a particular table in the garage. Dale looked inside the box on top. A bunch of coffee cups. Why would she need those? Then—as if she was being guided—she put her hand down into the bottom of the box and pulled up yet another cup.

When she saw it, she started to cry. “Where did you get this?” she asked the woman in charge of the sale.

The woman looked it over. “I’ve never seen this before,” she told Dale.
But Dale knew it well—and so had her mother. The cup bore the logo of the college Dale had attended, a small institution six hundred miles away, one that no one in this vicinity had probably ever heard of. A cup just like this one had sat in her mother’s kitchen, a reminder of the care and concern her mother had always felt for her, despite their sometimes-difficult days.
“I know I was guided to this sale, to find the reassurance I needed,” Dale says. She bought the cup—and knows that she and her mother will meet again.

The island was beautiful. One morning Georgia and her husband took a walk along the beach where black lava had hardened into the water. All around the Big Island, people leave names and messages made out of white stones on this lava, so they decided to leave a message for Scott. “Aloha, Scott”(Aloha means “hello, goodbye, and love.”) 1/11/72 – 9/15/98,” it read. The couple took a picture of it and walked on.

“The next day we took my mom for a walk,” says Georgia, “and when we reached that place, she spotted the message right away.” Georgia thought it would have been washed away by the waves because it was right next to the ocean. Everyone was thrilled that the writing was still there.

On that day, the Horvaths had planned to take a twelve-hour drive around the entire island. But the night before, a neighbor had suggested they avoid a certain area. “Don’t bother to turn off at the south end of the island, to see the most southern tip of the United States,” he cautioned them. “It isn’t worth the drive on a dirt road, and nothing is there anyway.” The couple agreed. This man certainly knew more than they did about tourist attractions.

They had completed the first part of their journey, and Georgia was driving when she saw the sign: TURN HERE to see the Southern-most tip. “Remember,” said her husband, “this is where that man said to go back.”

“I remember,” Georgia said, and started to turn. Then, at the last minute, she veered the other way, bouncing down the dirt road. “We’re here,” she said to her surprised husband. “Let’s go as far as we can.”

He shrugged. Up ahead he could see more black lava, just like the kind they had seen yesterday. Just then the path ahead separated, and Georgia had to turn left or right. “My hand seemed to turn towards the left,” she says, “so this is where I went.”

They drove to the edge of the lava, and stopped. The area was completely deserted, just water splashing along the shore and once again, lots of white stone messages all over from people who had visited. “We got out of the car and started to walk,” Georgia says. “Then all three of us stopped. Ahead of us was a message written on a white stone: “Love U 2,” it said. “Scott.”

All three adults started to weep. “It was a message from Scott,” Georgia says. “We know he didn’t actually write it, but the fact that we almost didn’t go to that area, and when we did stop, it was the right place..…well, we were meant to see it.” It made their trip, and aided their mourning. Scott was not gone, they knew now, just enjoying a beautiful piece of heaven.

“On the morning of the service, I had some new batteries, just purchased, and I put them into the angel to be sure it would light up,” Debe says. “But nothing happened.” Maybe she hadn’t put them in correctly. Debe asked her husband to see if something was wrong with the batteries. While she finished dressing, he checked them out again. “You put them in right, but I did it again,” he told her. “They still won’t light.”

By now it was 9 AM and the family was to meet at the funeral home chapel at 9:30. Maybe something had broken inside the angel? But everything looked fine. “We have to go,” Debe’s husband told her. He had taken out the batteries again (although she didn’t know it) and they had run out of time. “Let’s just have the angel sitting by her photo,” he suggested as he went to start the car.

Debe was terribly disappointed. The lighted angel would have made the display so beautiful…She buttoned her coat and picked up the angel. Just one more try… She flipped the switch, and the angel lit up. Shocked, Debe turned the angel over to see if the batteries were locked in…
She opened the compartment.
There were no batteries inside.

Heart pounding, Debe looked around, and saw the 4 AA batteries on the table. She snapped them in as her husband pulled up. “Oh, you found some other batteries,” he said, looking at the angel’s beautiful glow.

“Uh huh,” Debe murmured. They were the same batteries, the ONLY batteries, she knew, but she could not tell him yet. If they had ever wondered where their mother was, they knew now that she was closer to them than she’d ever been.

A few days later, Debe told her husband what had happened. He had no trouble believing it. “Well,” he said, “that’s Mom. She wanted to have that angel at her service. And she did.”

“You see?” Debe points out. “You never know when angels are around!”

As she finished, she saw a radiant light, just ahead of her, a pinkish-gold color. Was she dreaming? Shocked, Rose watched the vision.  Where had it come from?  Rose thought of her mother, who was very ill, and decided to call her to make sure she was alright.

“I have a radio alarm clock right next to my bed,” she says. “And when I saw the time, I remember saying to myself that it was too late to call my mother and disturb her. I decided to call her first thing in the morning.”

Rose turned back to where she had seen that beautiful light, and when she saw that it was still there, she was flooded with a feeling of calm and peace. The light was so comforting, Rose let herself relax. Life had been difficult lately, especially the constant worry over her mother’s health. But now she felt herself dozing off, while the warm bright light continued to watch over her.

The next morning Rose was awakened by a phone call from her sister. “Mom was taken to the hospital by ambulance last night,” Rose’s sister said. “You’d better come.”

Because Rose lived a few hours away, she did not make it to the hospital in time to say good-bye to her mother. “But it comforts me to know that this radiant light that visited me could have been my mom or my angel assuring me that everything would be alright,” Rose says. “I learned that pink-gold radiant light or auras represent love. I know it definitely was something very beautiful.”

Rose has not seen the light again, but she is at peace. “I know my mother, and my angels, are always with me.”

Now Christmas was approaching again. Sentimental Gary had always loved it, looking forward to hanging greeting cards and decorating the house. There would be no gift from him under the tree, Gail knew, and once again, she began sliding into depression. “Mom,” Michelle phoned one evening, “let’s get some shopping done tonight. You need to get out.”

Michelle was right. It was time to buy some Christmas toys for her small granddaughters, time to say good-bye to Gary, to let go of the past. If only she could hear from him, just one last time…

The women pulled into the Big Lots parking lot, and went inside. Gail headed for the toy display. What were the girls hoping for this Christmas? How she wished she could solve her own problems as quickly as she could make them happy! Toys were piled everywhere, so Gail reached up at random, and grabbed a Magic Writer, a draw-and-erase board from the top of a stack. Glancing at it, she realized that someone had already written on the screen. Then she gasped. Was she seeing things? The message was short and very sweet. “I love you, Gail,” it said.

“Michelle!” Gail couldn’t take her eyes off the screen. None of the other Magic Writers had marks on them. Was this the sign Gail had been asking for? The two women stood in the crowded aisle and wept.
“We asked the clerk to be careful that she didn’t erase the message on the board when we checked it out,” Michelle says. “I think she thought we were a little weird.” But Gail plans to keep the board as long as the message lasts.
“Maybe there’s a logical explanation for how the writing got there,” she says. “But the true miracle is that I received it when I needed it most. It was sent for me to find.”

Dimes from Heaven

We’ve all heard the song “Pennies from Heaven,” and several years ago, I wrote a story about people who were receiving pennies out of the blue—mostly lying on streets or in the bottom of their purses, but also in more random places.

One young soldier was sent to Iraq shortly after his father died, and while there, he found pennies all over the place. This was especially unusual because he was living in a desert, and few people carried coins. The soldier felt the pennies were a signal from his father that the older man was watching over him. He returned home safely.

After the story appeared, I received several responses from people who wanted me to know that pennies were passé—they were receiving dimes! “Dylan, a good friend of mine drowned on a camping trip,” a teenager wrote. “Months later, a few of us started receiving dimes in odd places. None of us had ever heard about dimes from heaven.”

One evening the teens got together simply to talk about Dylan. After they went home, each found several dimes in odd places. “I think it’s his way of letting us know that he is safe and happy,” says one teen. “Every time I find a dime now, I have a sense of peace.”

“Just after my grandmother died, I started finding dimes in the oddest places,” says Susan. “I knew they were from her.” Susan has found dimes on the fireplace, in a stove under the burner, even arranged in little stacks. When her family moved to a new house, Susan opened the empty front closet door and saw a dime sitting in the corner. “I usually find dimes when I am having a troublesome time,” she says. “Then I am reminded of my grandma and I know that everything will be okay.”

Susan has started saving the dimes, and shares the stories with friends who often start to find their own dimes. To her the dimes are a special witness that there is life after death.

“Since my son passed away on January 6th, 2010, my family has been finding dimes,” says a woman we’ll call Anne. “The latest find really confirmed my belief that the dimes are messages from heaven.”

Anne’s son was in the Army Reserves. Recently his four-year-old cousin Benji was at a county fair and visited the Army National Guard booth. The soldiers gave him an Army wallet, and the little boy was thrilled. “The next day, Benji came to show me his new wallet,” Anne says. “He opened the wallet and pulled out a dime! I asked him where he got the dime. He told me that he had found it behind the bed in his sister’s room.”

“This was the room that my son always slept in while visiting his cousins,” Anne says. “I know my son was looking down on us that day and winking.”

What could these stories mean? Is there any spiritual significance to them? Have you ever received coins and regarded them as messages? Comment below!

Shirley Miller of Pittsburgh had received a phone call from her brother in Phoenix, which had left her alarmed and upset.  “Our 96-year-old mother was in the hospital, and wasn’t expected to live much longer,” Shirley says. “The family was gathering, and I needed to fly out as soon as possible.”

Fortunately she was able to find a seat on a flight later that day.  A friend took her to the airport and dropped her in front of her airline checkpoint.  So far, so good.  But when she arrived at the security line, her heart sank.  Passengers were in two lines, each extending the length of the area, and moving slowly.  Shirley looked at her watch.  There was no way she could get through this line and reach her gate in time. She was going to miss her flight.

Shirley began to pray.  “Mom, wait for me,” she said in her heart. A moment later, Shirley saw a woman in a uniform coming towards her.  “Hello,” she said to Shirley, ignoring the other passengers.  “Do you see that line across the room?”

“Yes,” Shirley answered.  What now?  Was there a problem?

But no.  “If you go over and get into that line, you’ll make your flight easily,” the woman said to Shirley, and then walked past.  Relieved, Shirley wasted no time crossing the room, and got into the small line.  It was moving quickly, she noticed.  What a relief.

But.…she looked back.  The line she had left was still stuck.  And she saw no sign of the women in the uniform.  Why had she singled out Shirley from among all those passengers?  No one else had been told to do this.

“I made my flight and was able to kiss my Mother goodbye and to hold her hand until she went to be with Our Lord,” says Shirley.  “I’m convinced the woman in the uniform was my Guardian Angel. How beautiful is that?”

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Hello, friends.  On these leisurely days, we all see butterflies frequently.  But these beautiful little beings have a special significance to some.  They are a Christian symbol for “rebirth.” Some of them may also be angels in disguise.  (An American Indian once explained to me that in her heritage, butterflies and birds were considered to be messengers from the spirit world.)  Here are a few examples:

Joe was dying from cancer.  In an attempt to give him a change of scene, his wife pushed his wheelchair out into their back yard.  As soon as she went back into the house, her husband called her to come and look!  Sitting on his shoulder was a huge blue butterfly.  Another hovered around his face, as if conducting a conversation.  Thrilled, the woman came outside again but in a few seconds the butterflies flew away.  From that point on they visited every day but only if the man was alone in his chair.  On the day of his funeral, the butterflies stopped in the yard for a moment or two, fluttered off and were never seen again.

Recently Janet wrote to tell me that ever since her mother died, white butterflies seem to stop at her house.  “One always comes to the same place, a bush in front of a window,” she says. “I see them almost every day in the summer, but I look all around and there are never any others nearby.” Janet also received an honor last year, and decided to wear yellow since, as she told her daughter, yellow is the color of victory!  “When I stepped outside that day, a huge yellow butterfly flew right to me, swooped over my head and into the distance.”

One of my favorite stories involved a woman who believed that an occasional butterfly would bring her a message.  Once she asked God about a choice of schools for her handicapped child.  Should she enroll him in a new facility, or let him stay where he was?  That evening as she and her family sat in the living room, everyone heard a tapping coming from the outside.  Look!  A large brown butterfly was hovering outside.  Immediately the woman knew the answer to her question.

“It was doubly amazing,” she later explained, “because that butterfly came to us in January, when the outside temperature was below freezing.”

Not every little sign is heavenly inspired.  But we should take time to notice what is around us.  As Janet says, “I am grateful and give God the glory for showing his love to me and my children this way.”

Eva and her mother were at the hospital, sitting at the bedside of her father.  He was very ill and hadn’t spoken in several days, and although she and her mother had prayed so hard, it looked as if her father was not going to recover.

“Suddenly Dad began speaking, and praising the Lord!” Eva said.  “It seemed as if he was seeing Jesus.  Less than a half hour later, he died.”  As machines shut down, several nurses came into the room to check his pulse and do a final examination.  Eva’s mother was devastated, so when the nurses left the room, Eva went with them.  She thought her mother might need some time alone.

Eva, of course, was also grieving, but that memory of her father’s vision had made her feel—almost joyful. What had he seen during those last moments? Soon she went back to his room, but now there was another nurse there. Eva hadn’t seen her on any of the shifts, and although she wore an identification tag, there was no name on it.  The nurse was talking quietly with her mother, and whatever the nurse was saying was having a calming effect. “I listened for a few moments-—it seemed as if they were talking about the Holy Spirit—and then I left again and walked down to the nurses’ station.”

A nurse that she knew gave her a hug.  “I’m sorry about your father,” she said.

“Who is that new nurse in his room?” Eva asked.  “She’s certainly making my mother feel better.”

“There aren’t any new nurses on this shift,” the woman told Eva as she flipped through the charts.  “Just us.”

“But….”  By now Eva knew each nurse on each shift.  Nor had she seen anyone entering her father’s room, or coming out of it. And when she returned to the room, her mother was alone.  “Who was that woman talking with you?” Eva asked.

“A new nurse,” her mother answered.  “She was very kind.  She just left.”

But Eva had been watching the doorway from her post at the nurses’ station.  No one had come out during that time, and she hadn’t passed anyone when she went back into the room.

“Then I realized that God had sent an angel to comfort my mother,” Eva says. “I believe with all my heart that angels come when we are in trouble, sick or sad, whenever we need to be strengthened for what lies ahead.” The following days were difficult, but hopeful. Eva knows she will see her father again.

—I had the honor and privilege of being able to interview the last survivor of the World Trade Center bombing, whose story ultimately appeared in my book, IN THE ARMS OF ANGELS.  At the point when she was discovered, the rescue workers had given up on finding any survivors, and were absolutely astonished when they came across this young woman, bruised and broken but alive.  How had she survived those terrifying hours?  By holding on to the hand of a man named Paul, she insisted, a man who kept her spirits up and encouraged her to keep calling for help.  But there was no man anywhere in the pit where they finally found her—and no way for anyone to have gotten in or out.  I could re-tell her story.

—During subsequent days, people wrote to ask, “Where were the angels in this tragedy?”  And I was able to answer with conviction:  “Right there.  Right on the scene.”  I knew this only because those with angel experiences came forward to share.  A man who saw smoke breaking up as it ascended, and then saw each piece in the shape of an angel, carrying a human being home to heaven…a trumpeter playing at Ground Zero a few days later, attracting a curious crowd. And yet no one’s camera worked.  No one there was able to get a photo…..A man who was escorted out of the building via a nearby stairway that he had never seen before…  There are probably many stories like this.  I could research one or two.

—Or I could tell all of you how meaningful that day was to me personally.  The night before, at 11 p.m. our
daughter had given birth to our first grandson, and I was up practically the entire night thinking about him.  The following day, as my husband and I drove to the hospital, we heard the news of the crashes.  Of course, like everyone else, we did not know how far such horrors would spread.  Was this unbelievable happening the end of the world?
When we finally arrived at the hospital, it was on lock-down, and for a moment I thought that we would not see this precious child, not today, not ever.  But the reception room nurse took pity on us and let us in, one of so many kindnesses offered that day.  It was when I held that little bundle that an the answer occurred to me, in a quote I’d heard: “A baby is God’s promise that life shall go on.”  It was not the end of the world.  And yesterday, in the midst of painful memories, we celebrated an eight-year-old’s special day.  I could write about that.

But maybe, as we lower our flag to half-staff today, it’s enough to quote something from the angel book:  “The future holds exceitement and opportunity.  We may grow inwardly in new ways, emerge stronger, holier and more interested in ministering to the needs of others than to ourselves.  We may learn that the people in our lives are far more important than any personal achievement or possession.  Rabbi Harold Kushner once observed that all the complicated structuress we spend so much time and evergy creating are built on sand.  “Only our relationships to other people endure.  Sooner or later, the wave will come along and knock down what we have worked so hard to build up.  When that happens, only the person who has someone’s hand to hold will be able to laugh.”

See you next time.