I believe two angels accompany each one of us. No—I've never seen one. Never seen God either, but that doesn't stop me trusting. You may have noticed my statement on the sidebar about using news articles in my novels. The following story is very much like the one I used in my work in progress, which I'll reveal below.
Here's an article I read this morning: Cured by an angel. Source Mirror.
Quote: Colleen Banton was devastated. Her daughter, born five weeks prematurely, had spent her life in and out of hospital fighting health problem after health problem.
In 2008, aged 14, Chelsea was back in her local North Carolina hospital and she was suffering more than ever before.
She had spent two months in intensive care and was now close to death after developing pneumonia.
Doctors told Colleen there was no hope at all and she made the heartbreaking decision to switch off Chelsea’s life support machine.
The doctors flipped the switch, but as just as Chelsea was about to take her last breath, something happened and she started to pull through.
It was then they saw an image on the hospital’s security monitor showing a glowing figure at the doors by Chelsea’s bed.
Colleen says: “They called me in there and when I saw it, I said it had to be an angel because you could see the wings, you could see the whole outline.”
To the doctors’ amazement, and against all medical reason, the teenage girl then started to improve and she was later allowed to go home.
Here's an article I read this morning: Cured by an angel. Source Mirror.
Quote: Colleen Banton was devastated. Her daughter, born five weeks prematurely, had spent her life in and out of hospital fighting health problem after health problem.
In 2008, aged 14, Chelsea was back in her local North Carolina hospital and she was suffering more than ever before.
She had spent two months in intensive care and was now close to death after developing pneumonia.
Doctors told Colleen there was no hope at all and she made the heartbreaking decision to switch off Chelsea’s life support machine.
The doctors flipped the switch, but as just as Chelsea was about to take her last breath, something happened and she started to pull through.
It was then they saw an image on the hospital’s security monitor showing a glowing figure at the doors by Chelsea’s bed.
Colleen says: “They called me in there and when I saw it, I said it had to be an angel because you could see the wings, you could see the whole outline.”
To the doctors’ amazement, and against all medical reason, the teenage girl then started to improve and she was later allowed to go home.
As promised, here's how I used a similar story in a fantasy story. You see, Liliha wears a star moonstone ring which grants her visions. During a short time away, she whispers helpful advice to a person she contacts.
#Her state of mind pushed her over the edge of normal consciousness. The air became charged, and she sped, straight and true, along the passageway of dreams.
* * *
I peer down at a young girl, sitting beside a bed and tugging a prone woman's hand. People enter the room in small groups and greet the child with a kiss and hug. A regular bleep comes from medical equipment nearby. Two medics murmur outside in the hall.
The girl of about eight years old strokes the woman's hand. "Mommy, wake up." She gives an exasperated sigh. "Mommy, I've told you too many times already. Wake up."
The comatose woman lies pale and still.
"Don't you want to see little baby Ivy? She's nearly two weeks old." The girl blinks away tears.
I sense a spark of life inside the motionless form and wonder who would benefit most from my assistance. Previous experience has shown the difficulty of helping a comatose person. The child needs her mother now. Her outpouring of love can work miracles. Maybe I could help the child to contact her mother. Would God, the Guardian, want me to revive her? No time to wait for an answer. The children's needs are clear.
I meld with the girl and see the hospital room by way of her eyes. Her name is Trina and she's taut with fear as the medics enter from the doorway and approach the bed. The relatives step forward to say goodbye. They stand, watching, waiting. With somber intent, the female medic nods and turns off the life support. When the peeps cease, most of the family follow the medics out of the room, leaving just the grandfather beside us.
Mom's weak labored breaths tear our heart.
Grandpa strokes her head, "You can go now, daughter."
In a firm voice we blurt, "No, not yet. She's not ready."
I cross my virtual fingers and whisper, 'Think about the time your mother held you tight after you won the prize for running. Remember the love you felt right then. Hug her inside your mind.'
She does what I suggest with remarkable swiftness. Two other entities radiating with shining light surround us. Angels? Soft whispers of support strengthen my message. The three of us might make a difference.
"Don't go yet, Mommy."
Although conflicted about reviving someone, I whisper to Trina, 'Pretend you're crawling between tight bushes. You have to push forward to reach the sunshine and your mother's love. Push.'
We tense and screw up our eyes. "Please live, Mommy."
I urge, 'Give one huge effort. Use every bit of strength you have. Make your love loud and clear.'
"Mommy." Desperation makes our voice squeak. With innocent, pure beauty, we whisper, "Open your eyes."
Muffled shouts come from the central station in the corridor. Doctors rush into the room again to examine her, shine a light into her eyes. "Look. There's a response."
Without regaining consciousness, the prone mother sucks in a soft breath.
I can do no more. I feel a surge of hope from Trina before I disengage and hover overhead. A porter wheels equipment close. The doctors' movements are swift and sure.
Tears run along Trina's cheeks and her face changes from uncertainty to joy.
The female medic reaches out to prevent the child moving, but Trina drops her head onto the covers beside her mother's hand. "You're coming back to us, Mommy."
The medics gaze at each other. The male medic says, "I can't explain it."#
* * *
Have you heard of a similar experience? Do you believe angels exist?
#Her state of mind pushed her over the edge of normal consciousness. The air became charged, and she sped, straight and true, along the passageway of dreams.
* * *
I peer down at a young girl, sitting beside a bed and tugging a prone woman's hand. People enter the room in small groups and greet the child with a kiss and hug. A regular bleep comes from medical equipment nearby. Two medics murmur outside in the hall.
The girl of about eight years old strokes the woman's hand. "Mommy, wake up." She gives an exasperated sigh. "Mommy, I've told you too many times already. Wake up."
The comatose woman lies pale and still.
"Don't you want to see little baby Ivy? She's nearly two weeks old." The girl blinks away tears.
I sense a spark of life inside the motionless form and wonder who would benefit most from my assistance. Previous experience has shown the difficulty of helping a comatose person. The child needs her mother now. Her outpouring of love can work miracles. Maybe I could help the child to contact her mother. Would God, the Guardian, want me to revive her? No time to wait for an answer. The children's needs are clear.
I meld with the girl and see the hospital room by way of her eyes. Her name is Trina and she's taut with fear as the medics enter from the doorway and approach the bed. The relatives step forward to say goodbye. They stand, watching, waiting. With somber intent, the female medic nods and turns off the life support. When the peeps cease, most of the family follow the medics out of the room, leaving just the grandfather beside us.
Mom's weak labored breaths tear our heart.
Grandpa strokes her head, "You can go now, daughter."
In a firm voice we blurt, "No, not yet. She's not ready."
I cross my virtual fingers and whisper, 'Think about the time your mother held you tight after you won the prize for running. Remember the love you felt right then. Hug her inside your mind.'
She does what I suggest with remarkable swiftness. Two other entities radiating with shining light surround us. Angels? Soft whispers of support strengthen my message. The three of us might make a difference.
"Don't go yet, Mommy."
Although conflicted about reviving someone, I whisper to Trina, 'Pretend you're crawling between tight bushes. You have to push forward to reach the sunshine and your mother's love. Push.'
We tense and screw up our eyes. "Please live, Mommy."
I urge, 'Give one huge effort. Use every bit of strength you have. Make your love loud and clear.'
"Mommy." Desperation makes our voice squeak. With innocent, pure beauty, we whisper, "Open your eyes."
Muffled shouts come from the central station in the corridor. Doctors rush into the room again to examine her, shine a light into her eyes. "Look. There's a response."
Without regaining consciousness, the prone mother sucks in a soft breath.
I can do no more. I feel a surge of hope from Trina before I disengage and hover overhead. A porter wheels equipment close. The doctors' movements are swift and sure.
Tears run along Trina's cheeks and her face changes from uncertainty to joy.
The female medic reaches out to prevent the child moving, but Trina drops her head onto the covers beside her mother's hand. "You're coming back to us, Mommy."
The medics gaze at each other. The male medic says, "I can't explain it."#
* * *
Have you heard of a similar experience? Do you believe angels exist?
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