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ANGELS ON MY SHOULDER
by Regina |
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I worked for hospice for a few years now and I was good at
my job. They knew they could count on me to get things
done right.
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I received a phone call about five in the morning begging
me to go to a patient's home. "This is it for him and they
need you there." This is what I heard while trying to get my
bearings. I mumbled while I got dressed and wondered
why they called me. He was not my patient. I never even
met the man and they asked me to join him and his family
to help him while he was dying.
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I only had to travel a few towns away and when I got there
the sun started to rise. It was beautiful. I was captured by
the beauty of this sun. Why was today any different than the
rest I wondered.
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I paused before knocking on the door. I looked up to
heaven and said, "GOD help me through this please."
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A family member opened the door and expressed how glad
they were to see me. The man would not talk or look at
anybody all night. He just sat in trance. I walked over to his
bed and smiled and touched his hand.
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He looked in my direction but beyond me. "Thank you for
bringing the angels with you," he said while holding my
hand and he closed his eyes forever.
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I started to cry and when my supervisor arrived, the family
was consoling me. I was there for them. I felt so much
appreciation that day from that family and I knew I was there
for a reason.
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Regina
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PRAY FOR YOUR ENEMIES |
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Amanda Stewart, 10, of Vancouver, Wash., had a Bible
study lesson about how we should treat our enemies. A
few nights later, her mother Melinda overheard Amanda's
prayer: "And God, please find Tasha and make her fall into
a mud puddle while she is wearing her nicest clothes, and
then have somebody come and step on her..."
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After Amanda was done praying, Melinda asked her to
explain herself. Amanda proudly proclaimed that she was
doing what she had learned in Bible study - "Pray for your
enemies!"
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For this funny contribution we thank Grace Witwer
Housholder.
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TO RECEIVE the delightful weekly "Funny Kids" e-mail
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THE DOVE
by Pamela |
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The last six weeks had been a trying time in my life. I had
spent the time at the hospital with my Mom eight hundred
miles away in Missouri. The sitting, the waiting, the
sometimes up all night, had taken their toll and I had come
home to West Virginia, to rest and be with my husband and
children for a few days before going back. It's difficult to be
away when you feel so strongly that you should be
somewhere else but Mom had been moved to a hospital
closer to my brother and he would be in and out during the
day to check on her.
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I had just gotten home from the grocery store, restocking
shelves for the family since as I was trying to prepare to
leave again. After putting things away, I decided to take a
break, sit out on the deck in the late afternoon shade, and
have a bowl of ice cream. I was sitting there relaxing, with
my feet propped up on the deck railing, deep in thought,
when I heard a noise behind me. I began to realize that I
had been hearing this noise over and over for several
minutes but in my reverie, I had not been paying attention. I
turned around in my chair to look and I watched in
amazement as a dove flew from one side of the yard to the
other. As she flew, she sang her dove song, urgently
making the sound as she traveled several feet across the
whole yard from one tree to the other. It was almost as if
she were calling out to me and saying, "Look at me, I'm
beautiful and I can fly!" I watched her fly once more and then
just as mysteriously as she came, she was gone.
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I was contemplating where that dove had come from, since
I had not seen any doves around my house before, when I
heard my husband calling me to the phone. I came in the
house and picked up the phone. It was my brother.
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"Mom's gone", he said quietly. In my heart I think I already
knew. You see, Mom loved the Lord with all of her heart.
This wouldn't be the first time that God had sent a
message on the wings of a dove and this time it was to
reassure a daughter. He was letting me know that Mom
was not really gone but she was now with Him. I believe He
was saying to me, "Yes, she's beautiful and she can fly!"
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Pamela R. Blaine
copyright August 24, 2000
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ABOUT THE WRITER:
Pamela and her husband live in West Virginia. They have
four children and three grandchildren. Pam plays the piano
and is an avid reader. She loves to write songs and stories.
One of her goals is to be able to write for her children and
grandchildren and also to be able to encourage and help
other people. You can see some of these on her
webpage:
PamyPlace
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DO ANGELS GIVE WAKE UP CALLS?
by George |
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I was sitting in Music Sight Reading Course at University
one very cold, wintry night. Our professor was very strict and
made everyone feel highly uncomfortable. As we practiced,
I was thinking about the cold temperatures, and my
greenhouse and my boiler that was trying so very hard to
keep my rose bushes warm.
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Suddenly, I had a deep gut feeling that something was
wrong with the boiler. It was as if I was ready to break out in
a cold sweat. I realized I had better do something but the
professor would not let me go. Despite it all, I walked out
and ran to my car. I started the cold motor and raced for
home.
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At the barn, I immediately rushed to my boiler. Sure
enough, the boiler was off and the temperature alarm in the
greenhouse had not kicked in yet. I immediately opened a
panel and pushed a relay switch and the boiler kicked in
roaring off to life as if nothing had happened. Remaining
uncertain I called my local furnace repair man who came in
to do the necessary repairs.
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I do not know if an angel was taking charge on that cold
wintry night but I DO know that our Provider was in control. I
still remain thankful to this day!
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George Prins | |
George's Home Page
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BRAVE LITTLE STEPHEN
by Danielle |
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At only three years old, Stephen is the bravest person I
know. At two years old, he was diagnosed with Acute
Lymphocytic Leukemia. We had to leave his twin brother,
Brandon, at home while we drove over 100 miles away to
begin his treatment. His prognosis was poor because he
had the leukemia for so long, but he must have decided
that he was going to beat this anyway.
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Even though he couldn't talk, it was as if he knew what had
to be done. He never fought the Phlebotomists when they
woke him up at 5:00 am to draw blood every morning. He
never fought his oncologists during the painful spinals and
bone marrow aspirations. He would only lay there with
tears streaming down his little cheeks holding my hand.
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He always wanted to hold my hand. I was told by so many
of the doctors and nurses about how well he behaved.
Rarely did they get a patient who was as brave and
accepting as Stephen.
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Just a little over a week after his diagnoses, Stephen's IV
clotted. It was decided that he needed to have a mediport, a
device that is placed in the chest for IV access. I took him
down to the surgery waiting room and waited patiently for
the nurse to come and get him. Crying, I hugged him tightly
and told him that everything would be OK. I remember
watching him reach out to me and crying as the nurse took
him down the hallway. Little did I know about what
problems this surgery would cause. My little one would
never be the same.
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Finally, after a few hours, the surgeon came out of surgery
and sat with me in the waiting room. He told me that
Stephen was OK, but there were some problems while
intubating him. His airway had swelled up around the tube
and now they could not take it out. He would have to heavily
sedate him and keep him in intensive care until the
swelling went down.
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I was devastated when I saw him. He was so still and limp.
He spent weeks like that. They tried to take the intubation
tube out several times, but they were never successful. It
began to become apparent that Stephen was not going to
get the intubation tube out, so after five weeks, the doctors
decided to do a tracheostomy (tube inserted into his neck
so he could breathe).
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Before they could do surgery on him, they needed to wake
him up. They began decreasing his medication and finally
one morning I came in and he was wide awake. The first
thing he did when he saw me was try to smile. I sat and
played with him for a while. I grabbed his foot and pushed it
up against my chest pretending that he had just kicked me.
All of a sudden, he began laughing, laughing so hard that
tears were rolling down his cheeks. Everyone one in
intensive care could hear him laughing. All the doctors and
nurses had to come watch. No one could believe that with
everything this little boy had gone through and with him still
being intubated, he was still able to laugh. It was the
sweetest sound I had ever heard.
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Within a week, the trach and a G-tube (tube inserted into
his stomach so he could be fed) were placed, and he was
moved up to the oncology floor. From there, things only got
better. Stephen was in remission by now, I had learned
how to care for his trach and g-tube, and he slowly came
back to me.
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Now, here we are a year and a half later. He is still on
chemotherapy and will be for the next year. He has to get
blood work drawn every two weeks to make sure the
leukemia has not come back. We went to go get it drawn
today. It still amazes me to see him run to the lab yelling
"POKE, POKE!" as loud as he can. He climbs up in the
chair and the phlebotomist gives him an alcohol swab so
he can clean his arm. Without being held down by an adult,
she gets the needle ready and then pokes him. Not a flinch,
not a tear, he just looks up at me and smiles. I am so
proud that this is my son, but at the same time, I am so sad
that a little three year old thinks this is normal.
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A million times a day I wish I could take this disease, this
trach and G-tube away from him. I would do it all for him if I
could. I think every good parent wishes that.
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Danielle Hughston
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DANIELLE says, "the loves of my life, are sons Brandon
and Stephen Hills." They love each other and are living life
to the fullest!
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A FLAT TIRE AND
AN OPPORTUNITY TO CHANGE
by Bev |
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Once I was taking some seniors to visit nursing homes in
the area. We live in a rural area so the outing took most of
the day.
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A few years earlier, I had a problem with buying lottery
tickets, I had promised my husband and God that I would
never buy another ticket. On this particular trip I thought I
would buy a few tickets on my way home after I delivered
the last person. As soon as I pulled out of his driveway I
had a flat tire. It was raining lightly but good fortune was
smiling on me as a clean-cut young man was right there to
change it.
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He couldn't get my spare out and we fooled around with it
for a long time. Then two more people came by in a
delivery truck and showed the young man how to get the tire
out.
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When he was all done I offered the young man a $50 bill
but he refused to take it but I slipped it into his shirt pocket.
He said he would follow me to the tire place in the nearest
town to be certain everything was all right. When we got
there he pulled out the money I had given him and offered it
back. He held it close to him like he wanted to keep it but
truly felt like he should offer to give it back. I told him to keep
it and consider it a gift from above.
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When I went inside the man was alone and was reading
the Bible. He let me call home to tell my husband I would
be late and didn't charge me for the call. He changed the
tire and I asked what was wrong with it. He told me there
was nothing wrong with the tire or the valve core!
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Needless to say it was too late to buy lottery tickets
because I was so late getting home. I will always think that
money was meant to be spent helping this young boy out
rather than playing the lottery. I have never bought a lottery
ticket since!
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Bev
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CLOSE CALLS
by Carol |
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When I was growing up, my grandparents often told me I
must have had more than one guardian angel protecting
me. I frequently had 'close calls' that were never explained.
The hair on my neck still stands up every time I think of the
time when I was about five, I stuck my hand inside a
vibrator while it was running. My grandpa was repairing an
old electric vibrator, roughly the shape of a pillow, covered
with leather. The end was open and I couldn't resist. He
yelled when he saw my hand come out, expecting to see
hamburger. I had reached in far enough for the blades to
cut off all my fingers, but I felt nothing but a kind of electric
charge forcing my hand back.
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When I was 19, standing on a street corner in Seattle one
day, I waited to cross and felt a hand press against my
chest. It pushed me so hard I fell over backward moments
before a city bus jumped the curb and bounced across the
spot where I'd been standing. A bystander saw me fall and
rushed to my aid. He denied pushing me, but said it looked
to him as though I was shoved. Neither of us saw anyone
touch me.
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I was an Animal Control Officer in a small town in Colorado.
Driving patrol one day I saw a Doberman Pinscher running
at large. Rather than try to capture the dog, I chose to follow
him home and speak with his owner. The dog trotted
across a sidewalk to a house so I parked and got out of my
truck. As I approached the property, I saw two things: The
owner was working in the flowerbed and the dog, which
had seen me, was running toward me with the speed of a
locomotive! The owner shrieked, "No, Marshall! Nooooo!"
Teeth bared, growling menacingly, and not slowing a bit,
Marshall was a scary sight. I prayed: 'Help me Lord!' Then I
dropped to one knee, held my arms open and called, "Here
Marshall. Come here!" The 95-pound dog threw himself
into my arms, licking my face and nipping at my arms. I
hugged him and laughed until I cried, assuring his panicky
owner I was fine. What a surprise for both of us! I am
convinced my angel inspired me to greet Marshall instead
of running.
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More recently, I believe I saw my angel. There was the day I
returned home from work to find my yard full of fire trucks
and ... no home. I looked away, checked the mail and tried
not to look at my yard, hoping I was mistaken and when I
looked again, the house would be where I left it that
morning. It wasn't. When I numbly approached the smoking
ruins, a fireman walked over and asked, "Are you Carol?" I
replied that I was.
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He was a tall, fair skinned young man, with lovely blue
eyes and a beautiful smile. He was still wearing his yellow
fireproof trousers with suspenders and a soggy tee shirt.
He embraced me in a big, sweaty bear hug and said, "I've
heard about you. You have a lot of friends and everything
will be fine."
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I wasn't sure how he'd heard of me. I hadn't lived there very
long. In fact, before moving into the house, I'd been living in
my car with my two children. I had no insurance, was
working four part time jobs and still wasn't making ends
meet.
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Within the hour, an elder from the Seventh-day Adventist
church arrived with a check for two hundred dollars. I was
offered a place to live, and even the fire department
donated cash to get me back on my feet. The local transit
company rounded up furniture, clothes, kitchen and
household goods.
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I like to say this town is populated with angels. That
fireman's prediction came true almost immediately and I
often thought about the stranger who told me everything
would be alright.
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I've asked about him, but no one remembers him and I'm
told I imagined him. I don't believe that for a minute. You
see, I not only believe in miracles, I expect them.
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Carol of Washington State | |
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In MEMORY OF ANDY
If You Came Back From Heaven
by Sharon Bryant |
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If you came back from heaven | |
So many things I would change | |
I would care less about how the house looks | |
Or how the furniture is arranged | |
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I wouldn't worry about fingerprints | |
That you left on the wall | |
I'd throw a wobbly pitch to you | |
And teach you the game of baseball | | | |
I'd find an old limber pole | |
And a very long piece of string | |
We'd make your fishing a lot more fun | |
And feel our hair blow in the wind | | | |
I'd look at you from dawn till night | |
And brush your hair with my hand | |
And when you smiled that toothless grin | |
I'd say, "You're My Little Man." | | | |
I'd tuck you in so gently | |
As bedtime came around | |
I'd tickle you and make you giggle | |
In case your face had a frown | | | |
I'd never let you out of my sight | |
Not for a minute of the day | |
I'd listen very closely | |
To every word you had to say | | | |
I'd teach you compassion | |
In a way that I now know | |
That I didn't realize fully | |
Before God called you home | | | |
I'd make you say your prayers each night | |
And thank God for a second chance | |
And when you said, "My sole to keep" | |
My heart would sing and dance | | | |
If you came back from heaven | |
What a glory it would be | |
I'd tell the angels the next time they call | |
I hope you stay and they take me. | | | |
This poem in memory of Andy
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