“If I believe this, everything changes.”
Each of us is born with a glowing chip of moonlight connecting us, every moment of our lives, to the Divine.
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Maybe it’s happened to you: a stranger appears—on an airplane, beside a hospital bed, in a crowded mall—and offers guidance, a helping hand or a shoulder to cry on. Then, as mysteriously as he or she appeared, the stranger disappears without a trace.
This afternoon, I was sitting in the kitchen thinking about what to make for dinner, when I received a strong nudge to share an excerpt from my book with you. Alrighty, then. Here it is, one chapter from Sea of Miracles, my book about angels. If you have any Qs (at all), I’m happy to answer them. Enjoy!
A woman walks along a winter beach, eyes downcast, shoulders slumped. More depressed than she’s ever been, she thinks of her family, her home, her work. She’d always believed these things would bring her joy—and she’s doing her best, sacrificing and working hard to make a go of it. But no matter how she’s tried, things haven’t worked out that way.
Lost and lonely, she stands at the water’s edge, thinking: Maybe I should just swim out to sea? When everything feels so empty, so meaningless, why go on?
Suddenly, a man approaches. Where’d he come from? she wonders. The long stretch of beach was deserted a moment ago. She’s startled at first, wary. But as the man draws near, she feels the strangest ... recognition.
He walks directly to her and invites her to sit on the sand. He’s engaging and interesting and she feels completely at ease in his presence. Somehow, he senses what she’s thinking. She’s never shared her feelings and concerns so easily before. It’s as if he knows her better than anyone she’s ever met, better than she knows herself.
Her heart lightens, long forgotten dreams flash into her mind—things that she once thought she’d do and see, pieces of a self she left behind years ago. Though she feels shy about sharing these ideas, he seems fascinated, which encourages her to continue.
After a long, full conversation, they part and she hugs him—she who usually holds back, who feels uncomfortable with such intimate exchanges—hugs him!
“Thank you,” she whispers. As he walks away, she turns to face the ocean. She feels better than she’s felt since... well, she can’t remember when. She breathes in the fresh salt air and her body feels alive, her heart foods with relief and then, she feels it—the thing she thought she’d never feel again—the effervescent sparkle of joy. Tears streaming, overwhelmed with gratitude, she turns to thank the mysterious stranger one more time... but where is he?
It’s only been a moment. She scans the beach in all directions. Even if he’d run, he couldn’t have vanished so quickly. She climbs the dunes, eyes searching acres of sand—and parking lot. But the mysterious stranger is gone.
This story, a composite of many I’ve read, is happening every day. Maybe it’s even happened to you: a stranger appears—on an airplane, beside a hospital bed, in a crowded mall—and offers guidance, a helping hand or a shoulder to cry on. Then, as mysteriously as he or she appeared, the stranger disappears without a trace.
Where did he go? you wonder and, Who was he?
A rush of heat moves through your body (or a chill runs up your spine) as you realize: My life has been touched by something extraordinary—something I may never fully understand.
You see, touch, and feel the presence of the Divine every single day.
Yet if you’re like most people, you don’t let yourself believe it. But every now and then, you have an encounter you can’t “reasonably” explain, and you wonder: Could it be?
But you’ve been trained to doubt your instincts; you edit yourself. “Oh that couldn’t have been an angel,” you say, echoing the voices of teachers, parents and well-meaning adults who’ve chorused, “Don’t believe everything you see/hear,” “Stop telling stories,” “You must have been seeing things,” and my personal favorite, “That’s just magical thinking.” And yet...
You can’t let go of your brush with mystery. You keep coming back to the memory, rolling it over in your mind like sweet candy on the tongue. Enchanted, you keep searching, keep asking and keep noticing. You sense that just under the surface of the “real” world there is a deep flow of mystery. This curiosity—this interest and awareness—is like a glowing chip of moonlight, illuminating the deep caverns of the self where a richer wisdom lives—a wisdom that knows and has always known the truth.
Then, something else happens.
The phone rings and you know who’s on the line; you think about someone and “coincidentally” bump into them the next day. You make a wish or whisper a prayer and miraculously it’s granted. That’s all it takes—your moonlit chip flares with recognition. This time, or the next, when you can no longer deny that it’s real, something inside of you shifts; and this time, when you whisper: Could it be? You hear an answer: Yes...
Maybe you’ve already had an experience that deepened your connection to the Divine. Maybe that experience marked the beginning of a journey—through books and classes and conversations with friends, teachers, or members of clergy. Maybe you let others talk you out of it, writing of even your own experience as “just a coincidence.”
“Something happened to me... many years ago,” the woman in the café tells me.
She was just a kid, barely twenty, driving on four bald tires on the highway, no one else on the road. She heard a loud “bang!” and suddenly, her car was sailing, out of control, right of the road, down an embankment, where where it smashed, head on, into a tree.
“I really hit my head,” she remembers. “I didn’t realize quite how hard at the time. I was dizzy and nauseated... I had to get out. But when I stood up beside my car, I began to swoon. Suddenly this man was there... A tall black man. He was driving a truck, a huge 18-wheeler. It was right there, beside the road. I kept telling him, ‘I don’t know what happened...’ over and over. ‘Your tire blew out,’ he explained. ‘See?’ He showed me the tire fragments on the blacktop beside my car. And I understood then.”
That’s when she passed out cold. Five hours later, she woke up in the hospital.
“Where’s the man who brought me in?” she asked doctors, nurses, admitting staff. No one had seen him. There was no record of how she’d arrived.
I tell her this is typical of angelic experience. The angels arrive, lend a hand at an accident scene or hospital bed, then disappear without a trace.
“That doesn’t make sense,” she says. “It’s too....”
“Bizarre, incredible. I know,” I say.
“It’s just that ... I’ve always wondered who he was.” She pauses. “I’ve wondered about all of it. I mean, how did I see the shreds of tire on the road at all. When he came, I was standing beside my car, down at the bottom of the embankment? How did I even see his truck?”
“The angels can transcend space and time,” I say. “Every day I read a story like yours—if they need a truck, they can make one. They could probably move us through space and time if they had to.”
“If I believe this,” she says, “it becomes a life changing event.”
“Don’t believe it,” I urge. “Test it. Ask for proof.”
She laughs. “How could I possibly prove any of this?”
“Ask for a sign—say, ‘If this really was an angel, send me a sign
“I’m afraid to,” she shudders. “It’s too huge. Too big. If I believe this, it changes everything.”
We’re like castaways.
This woman has wondered about that event all of her life—for years that chip of moonlight in her heart has been glowing, pulsing her question into the universe: Could it be? I am absolutely certain that God has been answering—pulsing back response after response. But her doubt and fear made it impossible for her to receive any of it. That’s why, this time, the angels sent me.
I hope that doesn’t sound arrogant. It’s just that after all that I’ve witnessed, I can no longer pretend this kind of meeting is coincidental. For me, that denial would be a far greater arrogance. My meeting with this woman was guided—and, as always happens in angel-guided encounters, our meeting rewarded both of us. She received a new kind of answer—a direct, clear explanation delivered by a human being. I received the gift of this story to share with you.
As the angels have shown me, they are constantly guiding us, gently and with great love, back to the parallel path. As the woman in the café observed, that changes everything.
If you’d like to learn more about the angels I know as the guides:
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