Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Guardian Angels

Do you believe in guardian angels? I had never given it much thought. From childhood, I'd heard about spirits. A neighbor said she had seen a dove fly from the chimney of my grandparent's home when my grandmother died. Other stories had been told of unexplained happening. Thus one open-minded woman.

I was going through a rough time and started seeing a empathic counselor. She seemed to be able to read me. Heck, I couldn't even read me. Before we began, she told me that I was an observer and supposed to write. I knew I was nosy and always asking questions but didn't consider calling it 'observing'. "You have a guardian angel", she said. A guardian angel?
"She is behind your right shoulder. She has white hair and loves you very much." Hm. This was news to me.

The more I thought about her words, the more I believed that either my Aunt Alma or Grandmother was with me. I knew there was a voice that urged me on when times were rough, or I'd made an error in judgment. I knew there was an urging for me to write.

Aunt Alma had sent off one of my stories to the Gospel Messenger when I was a senior in high school. I was thrilled that this once teacher thought I had talent. My grandmother was a poet. She had been published. So maybe I was a writer.

A couple of days later I went to my chiropractor. When I walked into the office, the woman at the desk said that she needed to talk to me right away. She pulled me into a little room. "When you called, I felt your name bounce off of the walls." Well, I was ready for this weirdo. "You are an observer. Pam, you are supposed to write." Hm. I knew she didn't know Celeste so was vaguely confused. "You have a guardian angel. She is an older woman with white hair standing to the right of you."

Some things just make you a believer. I didn't need to have it posted on a billboard. I didn't need it tattooed across my forehead. Something spiritual was afoot; it was time to pay attention.

I began to write. People began to notice. The more I wrote, the better I became, the more I saw and the more I listened. Maybe my guardian angel is telling me what I need to know and clearing my vision, so I can see more clearly what needs to be said.

There is a voice in nature, in sound, in the silence we do not understand. Listen. Be thrilled by what you do not know and what you cannot see. I know from experience and maybe from my guardian angel.

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