Days that carve their song into our hearts.
Memories that bury themselves in the creases of our brains and forever breathe there.
One such moment happened for me over twenty years ago.
But I can still see it as clearly as a photograph.
I can continue to play it over in my mind like a crisp, brilliant video.
At the time, there were several troublesome things happening in my life. Things that were too big to handle. A heap of confusion and sorrow that seemed to overflow into a river I could not swim. I could only watch from the lonely shoreline and continue to pray. I could only hope for better tomorrows.
On this day, I was feeling particularly distressed.
Defeated.
Broken.
My children had worn me down with their playful messes and sibling fights.
My husband was in the mood to argue.
Responsibilities and burdens loomed over me like a black umbrella.
That evening, I cried myself to sleep.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I awoke suddenly with an alertness.
I heard singing.
Not a radio or television playing, or a tune being sung or hummed somewhere nearby.
It was as though a great orchestra was playing, accompanied by a choir of holy voices.
I got up and walked through the house.
I felt awake.
I remember peeping in the doorway of my children’s rooms.
I can still feel the cold linoleum on the soles of my feet.
I remember the darkness of the house, with a little nightlight glowing in the hallway -making silvery shadows.
The singing grew louder.
And it was beautiful.
Like a church choir that takes your breath away.
Like a rhythm that stung my eyes with tears.
I groped through the darkness to the front door, trying to locate the source of the song.
I slowly unlocked the door and carefully pulled it open.
It took a minute for my eyes to adjust, but there on the right hand side of the deck, stood two angels.
They had huge glowing wings and a soft aura.
They were semi-transparent, floating, and continued singing the song of heavenly rejoicing.
I looked into the yard.
Everything up to the deck was burnt. Charred.Smoldering as though a fire had recently ravaged the land.
And then it was over.
The angels disappeared.
The grass grew again.
And I returned to my bed.
I told everyone about it the next day and of course they assured me I had been dreaming.
But I know that I saw those two angels. And they came to me with a message.
I believe that they told me
that no matter how bad things get-
how black the world gets-
how all that is around me may be destroyed-
that my family will be safe.
And that God is protecting us.
Not too long after that visit, things began to improve. Worries softened, troubles lessened, responsibilities and burdens became less heavy.
And through it all, I realized that life is good.
That hope lives.
That no matter how bad things may seem, they will get better. Nothing is impossible if you believe.
I still get goose bumps when I tell this story.
I am truly thankful for that day-
that revelation-
that memory-
that message…
And for the song of angels.
