Sunday, November 11, 2012

Held in an Angel's Hands

   Held in an Angel's Hands

   All this talk of angels--reading and working with authors on their angel stories for the anthology-- reminded me of several times when angels have touched my life. In fact, it's been too many times to count. 
   But the first time that I was touched by an angel was before I can remember ... when I was one month old. 
    My mother and father married and moved to Michigan, which of course is cold country, a place where it is not uncommon to experience 13 foot snow drifts. 
   This where I was born. 
   One day when I was just one month old, my mother put me to bed in my crib placed under a window. (Ater this incident, she never placed a bed near or under a window again.) After she lay me down to sleep, she went into the living room to relax. Suddenly, a school bus drove by the front of the house, as school had just let out. However, one of the children threw an iceball from the bus and it crashed through the window, falling into the room where I was sleeping, as the sound of shattering glass filled the air.
   "Terry!" my mother screamed, fearing the worst. Quickly, she ran into my bedroom and I was curled up at the foot of my bed. I was awake, but laying very still. My mother said it was as if hands were holding me, keeping me still until she could come in and rescue me. 
   When she peered over the rails of my crib, there was glass all around me, covering the entire crib. In fact, Mom said that there was even a giant sliver of glass pointed right at my head. I was awake, but wasn't crying or moving, as if protected under the hands of an angel. As if an angel was holding me still, protecting me.
   There was just enough room for my mother to slide her shaking hands down into the glass and lift me up. As soon as I was in her arms, I started to cry and respond normally. As quickly as she could, Mom checked me from head to toe, but there was not one sliver of glass on me anywhere. 
   After Mom calmed down and I was safe, she walked into the room to survey the crib. Glass covered every inch of the mattress, including a little pillow and my blanket, but exactly an inch around the outline where I was laying, there was no glass at all. 
   That day, she called my survival a miracle. 
   Now, as an adult, I knew that day I was held in the hands of an angel. 

   Throughout my life, there have been many times where, looking back, angels have intervened within my life. They always seem to know when to come and intervene. And, even though we can't see them, we know that they are there, vigilant, keeping us safe from harm. Upon more than one occassion, I probably had them working overtime within my life, so I say a big thank you to all the angels in my life--both seen and unseen--for always being there to guide me and protect me from harm. But I especially wish to thank to the angel that saw fit to protect and keep a baby safe within his hands. And even though Mom saw nothing in the room with me that day, she knew it, too. 


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