![]() From The Brotherhood of Angels and Men by Geoffrey Hodson, 1982. The following paragraph is an excerpt from a message given by the angelic kingdom to receptive humans: The healer, too, might invoke us to come to his aid. The sick beds of men call us, who know no pain. Wonders of healing might be performed if we might come freely. To attain this end, you must combine healing with religion, with ceremonial, as well as with the artist’s vision of reality. In every institution for the care of the young, the sick and the aged, there should be established a magnetic centre which we could use as a focus: it should be a room set apart made beautiful, consecrated by the proper ceremonial, which would have as its object the invocation of Raphael and his healing angels, and of establishing an atmosphere in which they could work. No great gift of knowledge would be needed to do this, only sincerity and vision; the room might be shaped like an octagon, with an altar towards the East, candles and the symbols of the religion of the country placed thereon, and a figure of the founder of their Faith, incense, holy water and fragrant flowers. Every morning a ceremony of invocation of the angels should be performed, and every evening a service of thanksgiving. In every ward or sick-room, a little shrine might be similarly consecrated and similarly employed. Then every doctor would become a priest, every nurse an acolyte; we should come and heal through them, helping them in a hundred ways. ![]() From Encountering Angels by Judith MacNutt, 2016 – story written by Ren Brim. A few months before discovering that I needed surgery, God gave me a vision. With a wave of his hand, I saw Jesus give me two guardian angels. They looked like beautiful people – a man and a woman – with no wings. They wore tightly fitted uniforms, as if the outfits were part of them. When the time came for my surgery, I was struck with fear. As a nurse worked busily around me, I tried to convince myself that I should be calm, that God was with me. Yet I was under grave spiritual attack. A man walked into my room, pulled up a chair and sat by my hospital bed. I did not recognize him, yet I felt that I knew him. A wave of fear about the surgery rushed over me, so I turned away from him. Gently, he picked up my hand and began to stroke it, “I am going to take care of you. You are going to be fine,” he spoke as he gently held my hand. Despite his efforts to comfort me, I felt beyond reassurance, so I turned away from him again. Seeing this, he gently placed my hand by my side and walked over to the nurse. He spoke quietly in her ear, then left. Seconds later the nurse came over and said, “I’m going to give you a little something to relax you.” As she proceeded to prep me, I asked about the doctor who was just there. The nurse smiled warmly, “There was no one here.” Then I realized he was not a doctor – he was my angel! Thank you, Jesus! ![]() From SomatoEmotional Release by John Upledger, 2002 John Upledger was an osteopath, researcher, creator of the practice called Cranio-Sacral Therapy and the founder of the Upledger Institute in Palm Beach Gardens, Florida. Early in his medical career in Florida, Upledger was more than skeptical of psychic things which passed beyond the realities of medicine and osteopathy and scientific disciplines. He would have many opportunities to change his views of such things over the years. This episode in his life occurred following on visits by an employee and John’s wife to consult Harriet. Dr. Upledger made an appointment via telephone without giving either his name or reason for a visit. “No, I don’t need a name. I know you’ll be here.” At 11 A.M. on Monday I arrived at the back steps of a rather old, but pleasant and cheery, frame house with lots of flowers in the yard, I was in paint-stained hobby jeans, moccasins, and a tee shirt. I had driven my old Austin Healy Sprite. I was sure no one would ever guess I was a doctor. I stood at the top of three wooden steps and rapped on the screen door. Looking through the screen I saw a very pleasant kitchen done predominantly in bright yellow. A plump, cherubic, white-haired, rosy-cheeked grandmotherly kind of person came to the door. I said, “Good morning. I have an appointment at 11 A.M. Is Harriet here?” The woman said, “Good morning, my dear. I’ve been waiting for you. You’re the osteopath.” I hadn’t even given a first name when I made the appointment. I was temporarily disarmed. It would get worse quickly. Harriet invited me in and asked if I would fix her shoulder before our reading. She said there was plenty of time. She had planned lunch for both of us after the consultation was over. She sat on a kitchen chair and I stood behind her, somewhat at a loss what to do. I began to work on her neck and upper back. She said very quickly, “Oh no, you needn’t bother with all that; just put your hands on my shoulders.” I didn’t question or object. I just cupped one hand over each shoulder. My left hand began to get warm. Harriet said, “Oh you poor dear, you don’t have quite enough energy. Blue Bell, come and help him.” Within a second – I swear to you – the pantry door flew open. Very quickly my hand became uncomfortably hot. Harriet’s shoulder was better right away. There weren’t any electronic bugging devices or private detectives that could do this. My belief system did an about-face. She had convinced me. ![]() From Invisible Helpers by CW Leadbeater, 1915. In the East the existence of the invisible helpers has always been recognized, though the names given and the characteristics attributed to them naturally vary in different countries; and even in Europe we have had the old Greek stories of the constant interference of the gods in human affairs, and the Roman legend that Castor and Pollux led the legions of the infant republic in the battle of Lake Regillus. Nor did such a conception die out when the classical period ended, for these stories have their legitimate successors in mediaeval tales of saints who appeared at critical moments and turned the fortune of war in favour of the Christian hosts, or of guardian angels who sometimes stepped in and saved a pious traveller from what would otherwise have been certain destruction. Even in this incredulous age, and amidst the full whirl of our nineteenth-century civilization, in spite of the dogmatism of our science and the deadly dullness of our protestantism, instances of intervention inexplicable from the materialistic standpoint may still be found by anyone who will take the trouble to look for them; and in order to demonstrate this to the reader I will briefly epitomize a few of the examples given in one or other of the recent collections of such stories, adding thereto one or two that have come within my own notice. One very remarkable feature of these more recent examples is that the intervention seems nearly always to have been directed towards the helping or saving of children. An interesting case which occurred in London only a few years ago was connected with the preservation of a child's life in the midst of a terrible fire, which broke out in a street near Holborn, and entirely destroyed two of the houses there. The flames had obtained such hold before they were discovered that the firemen were unable to save the houses, but they succeeded in rescuing all the in mates except two — an old woman who was suffocated by the smoke before they could reach her, and a child about five years old, whose presence in the house had been forgotten in the hurry and excitement of the moment. The mother of the child, it seems, was a friend or relative of the landlady of the house, and had left the little creature in her charge for the night, because she was herself obliged to go down to Colchester on business. It was not until everyone else had been rescued, and the whole house was wrapped in flame, that the landlady remembered with a terrible pang the trust that had been confided to her. It seemed hopeless then to attempt to get at the garret where the child had been put to bed, but one of the firemen heroically resolved to make the desperate effort, and, after receiving minute directions as to the exact situation of the room, plunged in among the smoke and flame. He found the child, and brought him forth entirely unharmed; but when he rejoined his comrades he had a very singular story to tell. He declared that when he reached the room he found it in flames, and most of the floor already fallen; but the fire had curved round the room towards the window in an unnatural and unaccountable manner, the like of which in all his experience he had never seen before, so that the corner in which the child lay was wholly untouched, although the very rafters of the fragment of floor on which his little crib stood were half burnt away. The child was naturally very much terrified, but the fireman distinctly and repeatedly declared that as at great risk he made his way to wards him he saw a form like an angel — here his exact words are given — a something “all gloriously white and silvery, bending over the bed and smoothing down the counterpane.” He could not possibly have been mistaken about it, he said, for it was visible in a glare of light for some moments, and in fact disappeared only when he was within a few feet of it. A remarkable case in which children were abnormally protected occurred on the banks of the Thames near Maidenhead a few years earlier than our last example. This time the danger from which they were saved arose not from fire but from water. Three little ones, who lived, if I recollect rightly, in or near the village of Shottesbrook, were taken out for a walk along the towing-path by their nurse. They rushed suddenly round a corner upon a horse which was drawing a barge, and in the confusion two of them got on the wrong side of the tow-rope and were thrown into the water. The boatman, who saw the accident, sprang for ward to try to save them, and he noticed that they were floating high in the water “in quite an unnatural way, like,” as he said, and moving quietly towards the bank. This was all that he and the nurse saw, but the children each declared that “a beautiful person, all white and shining,” stood beside them in the water, held them up and guided them to the shore. Nor was their story without corroboration, for the bargeman’s little daughter, who ran up from the cabin when she heard the screams of the nurse, also affirmed that she saw a lovely lady in the water dragging the two children to the bank. |