• P.A. Meredith


by P. A. Meredith, January 9, 2022

"Wings of a Messenger" ©2022. Kristi L Russell

Many years ago, when I was around six-years-old, while I lay sleeping in my bed, I felt a presence in the room. A hand gently brushed my forehead, and I opened my eyes to see nothing. The following morning, I asked my mother and father if they had been in my room during the night. They said "No." After telling them what I felt, they simply explained it as nothing more than a dream. Not long after, I received my first holy communion at Saint Francis Xavier. I attended a private parochial school in West Virginia, where I was taught by the nuns from the order of the "Poor Child Jesus". Every Tuesday, and Friday the nuns and student body attended Mass and then walked a few blocks to school.

Quite often, my father would drive me to either Mass, or school. In any case, we were often late, and on this particular day attending weekday Mass, following my communion, it was no different. Tardy again, and Sister was not happy. Our first communion class met in the cafeteria, where we attended our first communion breakfast. Sister passed a basket around with slips of folded paper and asked each of us to take one. I was too busy enjoying my powdered covered, vanilla filled donut with chocolate milk, to fully grasp her instructions. My dear friend sitting next to me passed the basket, and I pulled out a piece of paper. Unfolding the paper, it had scribbled letters, that I neither could read nor understand. I asked my dear friend, Patty, to explain it to me. She took the paper and eyes opened-wide, held the paper in her raised hand, yelling, "Sister! Sister!"

As it turned out, those scribbled letters spelled "queen". I had been chosen to be the "Queen of the May"!

Years later, now in my twenties, I had another experience again, only this time, it added a special connection. While working in law enforcement, I was on day patrol, when a call came over the radio from another officer in need of assistance. Being close by, I responded. I arrived to a scene where the officer was struggling with one person and another was running away into a building. He pointed to the person running away, and I took up pursuit on foot. The building was old and dark, and I could barely see in front of my nose. Just as I was about to enter another dark room, I felt something. A pair of arms grabbed me and pulled me back out of the doorway just as I saw the light of a blade coming around. I managed to subdue and restrain without harm to this person or myself.

I have been blessed throughout my life. My guardian angel, or angels, have always been there for me. I don't deserve such a blessing, but I am eternally grateful to know that someone, or something is there watching out for me. Some might explain it away as luck, or something else, but for me I believe strongly in angels. So much so, it's near borderline obsession. My books (written under a pen name, K. L. Russell) are based on a school for angels.

A friend of mine was late paying a doctor bill, she called the office and told them she would be in the following week to take care of the bill. The nurse told her not to worry, the office was closed due to COVID. A couple of weeks passed and my friend decided to sign up for a photography class, held at a local restaurant. The more she thought about it, the more she decided she wasn't comfortable going. She called to cancel, only to learn, the entire class had been canceled due to COVID. She definitely has a special angel in her corner.

I'm not here to tell anyone what to believe or not to believe. That's up to each of us to decide. Looking at the bigger picture, I choose to believe with faith and hope in things we cannot always see. It has always guided me to a happier safer life when I listen.

"Now faith is the substance of things to be hoped for, the evidence of things that appear not." -Hebrews 11:1

Douay-Rheims 1899 American Edition

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