In a world where things often feel defeating during this spiritual battle, I wanted to share powerful experiences that lift people up, strengthen their faith, and show that we are never alone and love is the key to winning this battle.
I put out a request for people to submit short stories to me, sharing their experience of encountering an angel – something that forever changed their perspective and beliefs. I had originally said that I was going to select three to share here, and mail a copy of my book to them. But what happened was amazing! I received over 50 submissions, and so I’ve decided to publish seven instead of three. Plus, I will be selecting some to read at the beginning of our weekly Dig It! podcast each week. And, I’m going to email a pdf version of my book to everyone who did not receive the paperback because I feel incredibly honored that you shared your story with me.
I have been blessed with the guidance of Jesus and spirits throughout my entire life, which has lead me to the work I do today. Those are stories for another day. Today, I want to share the heartfelt stories of others who have all had incredible experiences of their own, and want to share them with you. Open your minds, open your hearts, and know that we are all loved, and together, we can change this world.
When God Gave Me a Rose
I was 14 years old. There was a lot going on in my life for a 14 year old – nothing terrible, just typical 14 year-old girl problems. At the time, it was the end of the world for me. Other kids can be really mean. Anyway, I went to bed early that night and prayed to God asking Him if he was real and if He was really listening because I needed help. I felt so alone. I asked Him to put a rose on my nightstand to prove to me He was real. I told Him that if He did that for me, I would never question Him again. I cried myself to sleep.
The next morning, I woke up and there was a beautiful red rose on my nightstand. I immediately thanked God and told Him that I would never question Him again and told Him I was sorry and asked Him to forgive me. Then I burst into tears. I settled down and dried my tears and went downstairs. My dad was at the kitchen table drinking coffee and he looked up at me and asked if I had been crying. I told him yes and started crying uncontrollably again and blurted out to him about my prayer the night before and the beautiful red rose on my nightstand. He smiled and told me that he put it there. I was so confused.
He told me that after his “weekend drill” was over (he was a pilot in the National Guard), he and his team had gone to a bar for a drink before heading home. It was him and 11 other men in their flight suits. A woman walked in to the bar who had just won a dozen roses. She didn’t want them and since there were 12 of them in flight suits she decided to give one rose to each of them. When she handed a rose to my dad he heard a very clear voice tell him to leave right now and take it specifically to me. He looked at the men standing around him and asked if they heard the voice and they all said they didn’t hear it and looked at him like he was crazy. He told them he had to go. He thanked the woman for the rose and made the one-hour drive home. He walked to my room to give it to me, but I was already fast asleep so he put it on my nightstand so I would see it when I woke up.
Then my dad cried with me. That is the day I knew we are not alone and God is real.
I am now 54 years old. I am so grateful that I didn’t have to wander “in the wilderness” for 40 years!
Thank You Jesus
How well do we really know a person even though we have lived with them for most of our lives? Do you? Well, I don’t, I must admit.
Mother and I lived together for a long time yet I hardly knew her. We may have lived under the same roof but that doesn’t mean we shared our thoughts. Mother was excellent in giving us our autonomy. It was very important to her that we are our own person.
Here’s another question. Do you know where you draw your strength from? Strength could mean your physical, mental or spiritual being. I’m sure that there are so many ways in which you can gather your strength.
As for my Mother, Chuchi Siglos, this is a piece of her story.
When my Mother died in 2000, my sister found this writing from Mother’s personal effects. My sister gave us a copy of it.
1965 – Santo Tomas Church in Batangas, Philippines I was alone in the church at 3 pm. (I join the Cursillo) I was at prayer in front of the Tabernacle. Praying and talking to Jesus. I was telling him all my hardship – all my disappointments in life. Why did he take my husband away from me? I was crying, full of resentment. Suddenly, there was a glow in the tabernacle and a loud voice telling me, “Is it not enough I have given you thirteen children?” I was stunned! I could not move. I was dazed, blinded by the glow. After a few minutes, I sat down trying to analyze the meaning of what I heard. I kept on thinking, “Now I know my children are my wealth.” From the moment on, I did not complain about my hardship. Everyday, before I work, I say thank you Jesus for the thirteen children you have given me.
I was only 8 years old when Mother wrote this. I was 43 years old when I received her journal. When I was being conceived, Mother was hemorrhaging. The doctor said that she might lose the baby, me. With Mother’s profound faith, she placed her trust to Our Lady of Perpetual Help. She prayed pleading to spare my life. She promised that she would name the baby after her. Against all odds in medical intervention, it was a miracle the baby survived and was born. True to her prayers, I was named Maria Perpetua. My nickname is Lady. I’m now 66 years old.
– Maria Perpetua
Our son, from 6 weeks to 3 years old, had chronic ear infections for which we rotated 4 antibiotics for that entire period, following the advice of the allopathic pediatrician (that story is for another day).
As a baby and toddler, I would hold him until he fell asleep due to the ear pressure, then put him in his crib. At around 18 months old, I was rocking him in the master bedroom chair. The table next to it had a small box with a picture of cherubs.
Connor pointed to the box and asked, “What are those?”
I meant to say cherubs, but the word angels came out of my mouth instead.
He looked at the box again and then at me, shook his head, and said, “Mine do not look like that.”
I said, “What do you mean?”
Connor replied, holding up two fingers, “One boy, one girl, no feet.” Then he snuggled into me and said, “They hold me when I am sick,” after that, he drifted off to sleep.
Several weeks later, I was rocking him in the chair in his bedroom, and I was so tired that I kept drifting off to sleep. I got up from the chair and told Connor, “I am so sorry. I must put you down in your bed because I fear I will fall asleep and drop you.”
As I leaned over the crib with him still in my arms, his eyes closed, he said, “That is okay, Mommy, my angels are here.”
He never again spoke of his angels, and he does not recall ever seeing them, but now, at 27 years old and in the Air Force and in Special Forces training, I know I am comforted by the fact that he has angels watching over him.
This is not a miracle, but it restored my faith. After some challenging times, I prayed and said novenas and felt like there was no God, no help, so this reminded me that someone from the other side was always there for us, always watching and listening.
Our Angel Chief
One warm, sunny day, my loving two pets, Ringer and Cochise, and I took a long walk in the remote desert area of Aqua Dulce. We were away from roads, cars, people, yet we were near a railroad track that helped us to know how to get back home. My two collies and I were enjoying nature. We had just seen a rattlesnake, it was coiled and we could hear it rattle. Thankfully, they both knew to stay away. We started to take a walk on the railroad tracks as it was late in the afternoon and we wanted to head home.
During the walk, I was in deep communication with Spirit and not “in this world”. My collies always stayed close to my side. We were walking together peacefully on the railroad tracks, away from the stresses of life.
Out of the blue, a man in his mid-30’s appeared to our left on the small hill beside the tracks. I wasn’t frightened as it happened so quickly. He had dark hair, wearing black pants, a white shirt and I heard him softly say, “Get off the tracks now”. I looked back and a train was swiftly moving toward us, probably within a minute of hitting us. I grabbed my two 100 pound babies and got off the tracks. We didn’t even have time but to huddle in the dirt to the right side of the tracks, where the train was coming and within seconds, it had passed us. I could feel the swift air and near suction of the train. If we had reacted any later, the train would have hit us. We just huddled there, afraid to move, until the train had traveled down the track.
Once the train was gone, I looked up on the small hill where the man had been. He was gone. I knew at that time I had seen an Angel; an Angel that I had felt was my Guardian Angel. I had known Spiritual Guides before as when I was 25, Christ appeared to me in true physical form. It was a difficult time in my life and after that experience, I knew all would be okay. To this day, I know I had been saved for a reason.
We walked home knowing that we had been given a new life; a new purpose. No human would have appeared and spoken so softly and with such intention and love. The reason I knew he was an Angel is because he did not stay once the train had passed.
Even today, I can hear the Angel’s voice. I couldn’t even hear the train coming. I know it was an Angel and to this day, I call him Chief. I have worn a silver ring with Chief’s face on it now for over 20 years because this Angel changed my life. I now know I am loved and that I am never alone. I adopted my daughter a few years after that, a true new beginning. Due to this experience, I have changed my life, my daughter’s life and as a minister and consultant, other aspects of people’s lives for the better.
– Vikke Ford and Pets
A Postcard from Heaven
I grew up in the 70’s and 80’s as the war against women was just being waged by Planned Parenthood. By the time I finished college in 1987, I had walked my best friend through two abortions. Then, in 1988 I found out that I was pregnant. With Planned Parenthood within walking distance from my apartment, I went there for help. I was never shown an ultrasound or encouraged to speak with my family. I was told that I had my life and career ahead and I would be fine in a few days.
When the abortion was over, I laid on the table and cried. My life was never the same. I told no one and moved on with my life trying to forget that horrible day. But years passed and my secret followed me. Friends began to marry and have children, but I was wounded and incapable of joy. Fear and shame kept me from sharing my story. I was trapped, living in a prison cell of silence. I remained there for more than ten years.
However, our merciful and loving God wanted to heal my broken heart. Gently, He began to lay the steps before me, and I began to see and understand the truth about abortion. Eventually, I began seeing a Christian counselor to help me sort through feelings that I couldn’t make sense of in my life. After several weeks of counseling, I courageously shared my story about the abortion. We both sat and cried. She told me something that I would never forget; “You aren’t just a woman who experienced an abortion, you are a mother who has been grieving the loss of your baby.”
She told me the first step to healing would be to write a letter to my baby. So, that night I went home and began to write. With tears pouring, I began to allow myself to think of this tiny child. I wrote a love letter to my child and signed it “Love, Your Mom.”
At that moment, something happened that exceeded all expectations: I experienced a miracle message from God. As I was writing I had the TV on in the background and they were featuring a program about POWs in Vietnam and a mother who had grieved for years never knowing what happened to her son. However, years later they found a postcard that her son had written to her before he died, and it was being delivered to her. Just as I finished my letter to my child, I looked up at the TV and saw the postcard he had written:
“Dear Mom, if you are receiving this postcard, it is because I have died and gone to heaven. Know that I love you and that we will be together again someday. Love, Your Son.”
At that moment, I was given the gift of hope, and my sorrow was transformed. I knew that I too had a son in heaven and someday we would meet. My journey to forgiveness and healing had just begun. I was not going to remain silent anymore.
A Visit from Dad
I was 12-years-old when I encountered my Angel – my father, Cmdr Charles Edward Hyatt who is laid to rest in Arlington National Cemetery.
He was commander of a Naval Air anti-submarine warfare squadron stationed on an aircraft carrier in the Mediterranean Sea who happened to be on a MAC flight over Spain trying to get home to surprise his wife for her birthday. Nixon had just closed Quonset Point Naval Air Station in R.I. and we’d just relocated to Orange Park, FL near NAS Jacksonville. In the early morning hours of Aug 28, 1973, I was awoken by my father who was sitting at the foot of my bed. I remember to this day, 50 years later, quite clearly him explaining that he couldn’t come home, that everything would be all right. For reasons I can’t explain, I went peacefully back to sleep.
I woke calm yet with the knowledge dad was gone from us but had stopped for a little chat with me! The next morning at breakfast, mom made a comment about dad and I responded, “…but dad is dead…,” which earned me a hard slap across the face for uttering such blasphemous things! Being new to the area, while my brother remained at home, my two sisters, and my mom and I went to the doctor at NAS Jax for school check-ups. On arriving home, there were many, many cars parked all around our house. Mom said, “Your father must be home!” while I corrected her and said again, “Dad is dead,” which earned me another slap.
Mom ran into the house. My sisters ran to play next door and I exited the station wagon and encountered 6-foot-plus tall Cmdr Smith, who was my god-father. I craned my neck back and looked him dead in the eye and asked, “Are you here to tell me my father is dead?” Cmdr Smith could only shake his head yes. He was so shocked by my “knowing” question. I was never asked how I knew.
My mom never forgave me for somehow knowing dad was dead before anyone else. Others thought this precocious pre-teen could never “get over” her father’s death. I’ve always known he was there that night…and that I knew before anyone else.
Tamela A (née Hyatt) Candler
I was 14 and my sister was 19. We shared a bedroom. One afternoon I went to enter our room. The door was open just a slit and I saw my older sister sitting on the bed reading a book. For some reason I felt a stab of love for her. Perhaps it was the way she was looking so intently at her book, I can’t say. Whatever it was, I just felt love welling up in me.
Suddenly the room was filled with a Light so bright and warm that had it been a material light I would have been blinded. I remember hearing a sound at the exact moment the Light broke through. I opened the door and rushed into the room. My sister said, “What is it? What’s happening?”
I ran to her and we hugged. I said, “I think it’s God!” The warmth and brightness of the Light was overwhelming. There was nothing else present except us and the Light. I could see nothing but the brightness of the Light. It was like we were embraced in a sea of pure Love. We both wept. Over the next few minutes the Light and warmth slowly dissipated. We just kept clinging to one another. When it had entirely disappeared, the world felt completely dead and cold.
What I haven’t shared is that my sister was very ill. A little over a year later she died. She had suffered for many years with the debilitating effects of a malignant brain tumor.
As I look back over those moments when God’s presence was revealed to us, I believe it was an angel of the Lord. Our family was not religious. We rarely attended church and had little to no formal instruction. But that incident forever changed me. I believe God was preparing my sister to meet Him. I believe that He was introducing Himself to her so that she would not be afraid when the time came. I believe I was given the gift of knowing that she was going to be alright.
I have never forgotten what happened. It cannot be explained in any ordinary way. The experience has never faded, and whenever I lose hope or heart I revisit those moments when God’s love for His children broke through the veil. God IS Love.
I pray that it gives hope to others.
– Gretchen Garrity