Well, those of you who have received Joann’s latest letter know that Joann had her gall bladder out last month, and one day while she recuperated, Joannie (her daughter) was driving their delivery truck packed with corn that a local food bank had given them, when a cable caught on the truck and pulled it over. Angels must have surrounded her because she was not seriously injured, and the truck can hopefully be fixed rather than totaled out.  (Maybe the angels were telling Joannie to slow down?)  Daniel (Joannie’s son) was left in charge of the entire ministry as the women recovered, and this past week he left for Boston for an intensive pre-med program.  He will be taking his entrance test for medical school at the end of this month.

I’m exhausted just reading about the problems they have there, but this is the kind of work where you can see the results.  Items brought in that morning are usually gone by dinnertime, and because Joann has lived there all her life, she knows who is truly needy.  There are special needs at special times too, things many of us would never think of.  For example, the druggist in town will accept any leftover medications, and give them to sick people.  There are foster kids being released from the system who have nowhere to go.  Women fleeing abusive husbands are in need of immediate safe shelter.  Where do the Cayces put the donations they receive for giveaways?  (Answer:  In a gym our gang helped them purchase a few years ago; now they have a food pantry and “store” available at all hours.)

During the next few weeks, the people in Thornton will be attempting to get the children back to school.  They will need all the usual school supplies as well as light-weight clothes and underwear (at least for now).  Coats will come later…  It’s a never-ending process.  Thanks and hugs for the good job all of you do, whether in your own communities or in Thornton.  I know that the angels are dancing with joy and appreciation.

And now for our story:

Our last story (about angels sometimes coming in the guise of butterflies) generated a lot of responses.  Obviously, many of you have experienced this wonderful little sign, so I thought we’d do one more:

Kim Wencl lost her 20-year old daughter, Elizabeth, in September of 2003.  Elizabeth was a student at the University of Minnesota and a fire broke out in her duplex. She and two of her roommates died of smoke inhalation.

Losing a child at any age is probably the most devastating blow that anyone can experience, and this family was no different.  “As we began the difficult task of planning her funeral,” says Kim, “my Mom, Liz’s grandmother, was insistent that we needed to release butterflies at the cemetery.  We all thought it was a great idea, but no one knew where to find butterflies … not even the florist.”

Kim’s mother would not be deterred.  She went on the internet and found a company in Florida that could supply butterflies.  She ordered them and they arrived in time for the funeral.  (“I considered this to be somewhat of a miracle as well,” says Kim, “because my mother is elderly and on a very good day she can barely remember how to use a computer.”)  Yet despite her deep emotional turmoil, Gram was still able to follow through.

After the funeral and the graveside service, Liz’s family released the precious little collection, expecting them to fly away.  But they didn’t. Except for a few, the butterflies hovered around the mourners. “Many landed on us, or fluttered over the casket and the large funeral sprays that lay on it,” Kim recalls.   “One butterfly landed on Elizabeth’s sister, Anna, and it stayed on her … it didn’t want to leave.  Everyone sort of gasped as the significance of it set in.”

Since the cemetery is within walking distance, the following day Liz’s grandmother went over to visit the grave.  As she stood and stared at the overturned earth and all of the flowers strewn upon it, she thought, “Liz if you are ok, please give me a sign.”

After a few more minutes, Gran began to walk back home.  Soon—and almost expected—two butterflies flew up right in front of her, seemingly out of nowhere.  It was Liz, her grandmother knew.  All was well.

“Elizabeth is always present in our lives,” Kim says today, some seven years later.  “She has let us all know in so many different ways.”

God does not abandon his children in our times of grief.  He has promised that He will send us whatever we need to endure, and He does.  Even butterflies.

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.”

God also loves the game, “What Goes Around, Comes Around.” Of course, He probably calls it something else—-maybe “Give, and It Shall be Given to You.” Whatever the name, the results are awesome.

Eduardo Sierra, 35, is a businessman from Spain, who was sent to Stockholm, Sweden, on a business trip. He was a devout Christian, and made it a point to stop into various churches when he could, and pray for his family and friends, and even people he didn’t know. The trip was ordinary, everything went well, and on his last day, Eduardo checked out of his hotel and looked for a cab to the airport. Then he noticed an old church about two blocks down the avenue, and realized that he had not visited any churches on this trip. He probably had time for a quick prayer, he told himself, and walked down to the building.

It was open, but there was no one inside. Instead, Eduardo noticed that there was a closed coffin, and a condolence book at a small shrine. A note lay on the book: “Those who have prayed for this soul, Jens Svenson, shall please enter their name and address.” Eduardo looked at the first page. It was blank. No one had yet arrived to send Mr. Svenson off to heaven, and that made Eduardo sad. He would stay as long as he could, he decided, and he prayed for Mr. Svenson for a half hour. It was a bit difficult, since he knew nothing about the man, but prayer is never wasted, Eduardo believed. And when it was time to go, he remembered to sign his name and address, just as Mr. Svenson had asked. The church was still empty.

Several weeks later, Eduardo answered the phone. It was a representative from the Swedish capitol, informing him that he had just inherited several million dollars. At first, Eduardo suspected a wrong number, but when the lawyer finally convinced him that it was all true, Eduardo was almost speechless. “How can this be?” he asked.

“You prayed for a man in Sweden, Jens Svenson.” Eduardo could hardly remember—it was so insignificant to him. “Mr. Svenson was a wealthy real estate dealer with no close relatives,” the lawyer went on. “He specified in his will that whoever prayed for his soul, would receive all his belongings.”

“But….” Eduardo protested, “many people must have prayed for him.”

“No,” the lawyer explained. “Your address was the only one in the book.”

What goes around comes around? Can you remember an unexpected result when you decided to take a risk and do something just for God? Let us know about it.

Things, however, did not go according to plan.  Word got out that there was to be a fish fry, and groups of people from the community went to the little church for what they thought was a free meal.  The members were shocked.  It was an obvious misunderstanding but how could they turn hungry folks away?  “We started serving and praying,” one woman says.  “We knew there wouldn’t be enough to go around, so we decided to serve all the unexpected guests first, and if there was anything left (which seemed doubtful), we would eat.” And so they did.

“Everyone was served, and some even came back for seconds,” says the witness. “And after they were all seated in the church, singing and getting acquainted, we workers fixed our plates.”  There was still plenty of food, everyone realized.  In fact, at the end of the evening, there was still fish left.

“God certainly stretched our food that night,” says a worker.  Just like he did on a hillside in Israel so many years ago.

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!

It was odd behavior because Karen was usually an easy-going and obedient child, and rarely got involved with her father’s job. But because she seemed so adamant, Dad (we’ll call him Tom) relented, took off his shirt and put on his vest, then finished getting dressed again. That seemed to satisfy Karen, at least at first, but when Tom drove her to school and pulled up in front, she became upset again. “Daddy, can’t you come in and go to school with me?” she pleaded several times.

“Honey, you know I can’t. I have to go to work,” Tom explained, again puzzled. Karen never balked at going to school. “Don’t worry—everything is fine.” Reluctantly Karen obeyed.

Later that day Tom and a few other officers got a call about an elderly mentally-ill man who needed to be picked up at his home, and brought to an institution. Tame stuff, the officers agreed. But when they approached his door, the man pulled a gun on them, and shot Tom several times in his arms. “Officer down!” the frantic call went out.
Eventually the men were able to get the man to come out without anyone else being hurt, and Tom was taken to the hospital. The wounds in his arms were serious, but the e.r. doctors agreed that the bullet-proof vest had saved Tom’s life. His wife was notified, and she took Karen out of school and brought her along to the hospital. “Daddy’s been hurt, but he’d going to be all right,” she attempted to prepare Karen.

“Did he get hurt in his arms?” the little girl immediately asked.
“I don’t know. The people at the hospital didn’t tell me,” her mother responded. His arms? What was her daughter talking about? It was a strange question to ask.

When Tom’s wife learned that he had, indeed, been shot in his arms, she was taken aback. But she forgot about everything for the next few hours, as the teams worked on Tom. When it became obvious that he was going to be all right, the couple turned their attention to Karen. How did she know this morning that Tom would need his vest today?

“I saw a bright light in my room,” she told them. “And a lady was there, an angel.”
“An angel?” her mother knew nothing about angels. They had never been discussed in the house.
“She had beautiful wings,” Karen went on, her eyes shining. “She said to tell Daddy to wear his vest today.”
“So that’s why you….” Tom was beginning to understand.

“Uh-huh. And then she came again at school, and she said Daddy would be shot in his arms, but he would be okay.”
She beamed at them. “And Daddy, you ARE!”

And a little child will lead them… It had been years since Tom had thought about God and His angels. But thanks to the obedience of his daughter, his life had been saved. There would be some changes made, and soon, Tom decided But for now, his heart overflowing with gratitude, he closed his eyes to sleep.

—-Saturday, May 15th, Noon luncheon followed by talk at Luther Village, 1220 Village Drive
Arlington Hts, IL

Kaye visited her mom and took her for an early supper.  “Mom said she wouldn’t need her cane as she would not be doing much walking,” Kaye says, “so we left it home.”  (She won’t make that mistake again!) When they got back to the house, Kaye went around to the passenger side to help her mother.  But Mom had already gotten out.  “The ground was uneven and she twisted her ankle,” Kaye says. “She fell over backwards before I could grab her. I tried to help her up, but she was not cooperating and allowing me to take her weight.”  What should they do?

The farmhouse is set back from the highway. Vehicles were going past, and Kaye prayed that someone she knew would come by, and notice that they needed help.  But no one did.  Perhaps she should go into her mother’s house, and get the cane and a chair.  Maybe they could brace themselves and pull Mom to her feet.  She hated to leave her mother, but there was no other way.

“I had gone down the driveway and was in the house looking for the cane when I heard a man’s voice calling,” says Kaye. “A man I did not know was at the door, asking if I needed help. He said he was driving by and noticed my mom sitting on the ground up against the car, with the car door opened, and thought something must be wrong.”

He must be a friend of Mom’s, Kaye thought, and explained the situation.  “I don’t know you, but I’m certainly glad you came by,” she told him.

“You aren’t likely to know me,” the man answered.  “I’m a friend of one of your neighbors.” His attitude was so relaxed that Kaye didn’t give a thought for her own safety.  Instead, the man accompanied Kaye back to the car, lifted her mother up and onto her cane.  The three then slowly made their way back to the house.  “Once she was inside, I thanked him again and he left. I still had  no idea who he was but he was there when we needed him.”

Kaye got Mom settled, and she was feeling much better when she left.  When she got home, she called her mother again.  All was still well.  “I’m glad that man came by, whoever he was,” her mother told Kaye.  “He was a big help.”

“He said he was a friend of your neighbor,” Kaye said.  She was starting to get goosebumps.

“I never saw him before,” her mother told her. “I thought you knew him.”

But she had prayed, hadn’t she? Kate thought.  She had asked for help, and help was provided. “One never knows how God will get a message across or who he will send to deliver the message to us,” Kaye says. “One must remember that you only have to ask.”

I was working on my latest writing project, a book about angels, and having strong doubts. It was August, 1991, and there hadn’t been much national interest in angels in many years. I had some heavenly stories to share, but would anyone want to read them?

The doorbell rang and the mailman handed me a small package marked “Fragile.” It was from a fellow author in Canada, which seemed strange, since we only wrote at Christmas, and never exchanged gifts. Her card read, “I think God wants you to have this.” I opened the box and stared at a little angel figurine in a red dress. No one had known about my writing project, yet my friend followed a heavenly nudge, and the signal was clear: “Keep going!” WHERE ANGELS WALK ended up on the New York Times best seller list.

It didn’t take long before readers began sending me angels. Statues, of course, but also angel soap, picture frames, pins, shawls…with the growing interest in angels, crafters were finding new outlets for their designs and “angel stores” were opening. “It used to be that angels were only available at Christmas,” one woman wrote, “but now they’re becoming an industry!” I discovered that there was a national group called Angel Collectors Club of America (ACCA), founded in 1976, to celebrate the enjoyment and existence of angels. (A second club, Angels of the World International, similar in interests, was getting started, and I joined both) In addition to an every-other-year convention, both organizations broke up into smaller geographic groups, and scheduled local meetings when possible.

Many collectors had begun as I did, receiving a gift of an angel for a special event, then wanting another, and another…. But it was not uncommon to meet people who had been collecting since they were children. (These were the Champions—people who, if not restrained by their families, would have built room additions to display their angels!) These folks were occasionally featured in local newspapers, surrounded by their heavenly hosts, which brought new members into the folds.

Unlike many collections, angels are so diverse that almost everyone can find something to enjoy. I noticed that some members focus primarily on specific types of angels, such as the birthday series (one statue per month) or a popular set of boy angels, each playing a different sport. One woman collects angels with red hair, and others concentrate on cats or frogs! As well as figurines, specialty collectors look for vintage angel cards, buttons, cookie tins and jewelry (the thrill is in the hunt.) Angel fabric is also popular. “I couldn’t resist it even though I don’t sew,” said one woman, holding yards of angel-embossed lace. Chances are, she’ll find a fellow collector who wants it.

The majority of ACCA members, however, have eclectic collections rather than sticking to just a few categories. Looking around my office right now, I see two angel mobiles, some framed art, a Victorian lady and a doll from Kansas whose wings are made out of straw. My shelves are filled with angel books, as well as glass and paper ornaments for decorating at Christmas. Such diversity is the norm.

A typical collection among ACCA members will range from a few hundred to a thousand or more items. Usually, they cannot all be displayed at the same time. Julie Henrickson, ACCA’s current Activities chairperson, rotates her angels for whatever holiday is approaching. “I have angels for Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Easter, Halloween and Thanksgiving,” she says. “There’s enough to be always putting different ones out.” Sue Vecchiarelli, vice-president of AWI, keeps hers displayed permanently in a “huge curio bursting at the seams.” Members share poetry, book reviews, recipes, and garden tips, and search for items needed to complete a project—all angel-related. There is also the Halo newsletter, which keeps us informed about events, new products and members who need prayers and Get Well cards. And when ACCA members raise money, it’s donated to their official charity, The Make-A-Wish Foundation.

I probably should have kept an orderly record and description of each angel as it joined the others in my house, as a true collector does. But no matter how many I have, that first little sculpture from my “earth angel” in Canada will always have the place of honor. Like the heavenly messengers, it changed my life.

ACCA $20 annual dues

Pauline Neff, VP

mandpneff@q.com

AWI $20 annual dues

Sue Vecchiarelli, VP

suzvecang@yahoo.com

For a Mom who loves to laugh, a copy of my latest book, MOMS GO WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD might be the perfect Mother’s Day gift. Just click on www.amazon.com, and type the book title in the long space.

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.