I have a new Angel for my pocket. My dad. On April 6, 2015 God called my father home.

The story below describes my encounter with an Angel in September, 1994. After the encounter I remember, waking my dad and I telling him what happened. He gave me a huge smile and told me that was a message from God. Dad didn’t ask any questions or express any doubt, he just believed. And now, that’s he’s in heaven I know he’s with me, over my shoulder cheering me on, just like the Angel did in 1994. Love you dad and miss you.

This is an excerpt from my Journal, the entry was written in the spring of 1999.

Angels are significant in my life and have been for quite some time. When Jason was receiving chemotherapy in 1987 I would pray for his protection while he was lying in the crib and the anti-cancer drugs were being infused into his blood stream.  I would call to God for an army of angels to guard his bed and protect him from further harm.  Today I say that same prayer for all the children.  I believe there is an army of angels protecting children with cancer.

On Saturday, September 17, 1994 I had an encounter with an angel.  I was sleeping and my soul encountered a presence that was very pleasing, all knowing, peaceful and calm.  My soul had a conversation with the presence.  I whispered, “Mary?”  The presence assured me that everything would be all right.  The presence kissed me.  “Jesus” I exclaimed.  The presence told me to pray and left me.  I began feeling a void as it left.  I received another message, Little House on the Prairie, Wednesday, nine and ten.

As I lay there in bed I wrestled with the idea that I was to get up and check the television listings.  I knew there would be a message for me but I was reluctant to acknowledge what had just happened.  My human mind tried to reject the idea that something spiritual had taken place. Eventually restlessness got the better of me and I went to check the television listings.  I nervously checked the columns in the weekly television guide for Wednesday, September 21, 1994 at 9:00 p.m. and 10:00 p.m.  This is what I saw listed for both time slots: Touched by an Angel (Season Premiere).

Oh, boy I thought, great.  Why me?  I’m not an expert at this sort of thing.  I have depression and I can’t stop crying.  How am I to interpret this event?

It has been five years since that experience and I believe the angel came to me as a sign of hope. Even in the darkest hours of depression I managed to visualize myself holding onto a tiny corner of the robe of Jesus. Faith is difficult to hang on to when you have depression. Because your mood is so low it’s impossible to believe in anything.  Depression is an all-consuming illness that has the mind spiraling inwards on a journey into a black hole. There are no thoughts of brighter tomorrows.  There is no feeling of optimism, serenity or peace.

I am writing a story about faith in God, angels and kids with cancer.  These are not easy subjects to write about.  I want my writing to be credible.  I don’t want people to dismiss what I have to say.  Because I have a mental illness it would be very easy for someone to say, “Ah well, she believes in angels, she had a nervous breakdown you know, very sad the way the mind plays tricks on you.”

I have to speak to you directly from the heart. I share with you what I know from my own experiences. It’s not very scientific work.  There’s really nothing concrete to measure.  It’s all just rather vague and obscure assurances based on words from an ancient book they call the Bible.  How do you test the words revealed?

I believe it is called blind faith. Surrender to another power. Surrender to God.   A friend’s quote is “If you look at all the intricate details involved in the design of every little thing it is easier to believe in God than it is to not believe.”  Believing in God gives me peace.  My faith has been tested mightily over the past twelve years and I could have turned away from God many times. But my faith in God is what has helped me through the difficult times.

There is a story inside me waiting to be told.  I can feel the words on the edge of my soul, creeping out bit by bit longing to be released and shared with you.  The heaviness of my past lingers on my shoulders and I am not sure when days will be better spent.  I want to be free of past burdens. Unhurried free of worry any clutter. Faith, hope and love keep me moving forward.

copyright Sheila Ethier 2015