I was about six years old, and my eight-year-old brother, Lee, and I shared a bedroom. We had bunk beds. I usually slept on the bottom, and Lee did, too, because he was scared of the top.
One night, Lee and I lay awake talking as usual. The room was completely dark. I asked Lee, “Do you think Jesus feels hot or cold?” Lee replied, “I don’t know.” Not really waiting for a reply, I said, “I think Jesus feels luke-warm because that would feel perfect, and Jesus is perfect.”
Out of nowhere, an angel appeared, to my right, past Lee, on the other side of the bed. My mouth was open in awe, and I knew instantly this was my guardian angel. And I knew once I asked or said to Lee to look that the angel would disappear.
It was only a few seconds, but my memory captured all of her. The angel was female. Huge, tall but not wide, she wore a white gown, had huge down-turned wings (not up, or in flight), and she glowed extremely brightly, but did not light up the room around her.
Of course, I had to have Lee look. I said, nudging him with my right elbow, “Lee, look!” a little above a whisper. Lee turned, and just as I had guessed, or knew, the angel disappeared. No words. No messages from God, if that is where the angel came from. Just there.
We both ran out of the room, Lee only following because I scared him half to death with yelling for my mom. I tried to explain all the details to my mom, but I felt I had to give a bit more “proof” of this vision or meeting. “And she held a harp!” I said, with a huge twinge of guilt for lying about such awesomeness. The truth was, she held no harp, her hands she held up, was all. I never saw her face, I believe she must have been too bright or too beautiful, or had none. She had long blonde hair that fell wave-like to her ribs.
Over the years, I’ve had faith, and I’ve lost faith in God. Yet I’ve never doubted that there are angels among us, and I’ve been kept miraculously safe.