Authors: Lorna Byrne
'Yes, Michael, I know,' I said. 'When I saw you on the
doorstep I was delighted to see you, but I was sad, too, because
I knew in my heart why you had come this time.'
I looked over at Ruth as she continued to sleep. Michael
laughed, 'She won't wake up until I leave. 'Michael reached out
and took my hand and I started to cry. He gave my hand a little
squeeze and I looked up at him. Michael was radiant; I saw his
beautiful radiant light enveloping and protecting me. A wave
of tranquillity came over me.
Michael said, 'Lorna, let the love you have for your da help
you now. Over the next two weeks, your souls will separate
slowly and gently; that golden chain coming from your Da's
soul and connecting to yours is becoming weaker and will
eventually break.'
I was still crying but I was also listening carefully to Angel
Michael's words.
'Michael, it has begun to weaken already, I can feel it.'
'Lorna, you must understand,' Michael said, 'that when the
time comes for the final break you must not try to hold on.'
'I know, Michael,' I said, 'I won't.'
'Remember, Lorna,' Michael said. 'All your angels are with
you, all the time, even when you cannot see or hear us. You
keep us all employed.'
Michael raised his hands to my eyes, saying, 'Let me
wipe away the tears. No more crying! Be happy now for
your da.'
'Michael,' I said, 'I need to ask you a question before you go.'
'What is it, Lorna?'
'You know,' I started, 'the way I have been seeing Da's life
from the moment of conception; the way I have been feeling
his emotions and pain and seeing everything? Am I cleansing
his soul? Is that what I'm doing?'
'Yes,'Michael replied. 'No more questions, Lorna, I must go.'
Michael disappeared and, at the same time, Ruth woke.
'Two weeks!' I said to myself, 'that's not long,' and took a
deep breath.
The vision of my da's life never ceased for one second: it was
never ending, continuous, heartbreaking, for me. Da called in
every day. He would have a cup of tea and talk and I would
listen and smile to myself. He talked mostly about the past,
sometimes about what life was like when he was young, or
about his parents, or about his best friend, Arthur Mason, who
had died years before. Sometimes he talked about himself and
Mum before they were married.
As the days went by I felt worse. It was horrific; knowing
there were only a few days left until my da would be gone from
this world. One afternoon, before going down to the school to
collect the boys, I called on all the angels: I cried out to them
from the depth of my despair. Angels Michael, Hosus, Elijah
and Elisha appeared directly in front of me and, behind them,
a host of other angels. I was enveloped in their love, which
gave me the strength and courage to let go of my da's soul and
not to hold on.
They spoke gentle words, 'You're not alone, Lorna. Go down
to the school now and collect the children.' Joe was not at work
that day; he was out in the garden. He came in at that moment
and said, 'Lorna, you look very pale.' I told him I was okay, but
Joe said he would go and collect the children so I could rest.
'No,' I said. 'I really am okay. Let's go down together.' I was
tired and upset but I was remembering that the angels had told
me to collect the children from school. Walking through the
main street of Maynooth on the way back home, I had a big
surprise: we met Da! This was the first time I had ever met Da
in Maynooth, and I knew it was the angels' doing. Da was
wearing his favourite Aran sweater that I had knitted for him
and his hat with the fishing flies. He seemed a little disorientated,
not quite sure where he was going. He looked a lot
older than his fifty-six years. But he was delighted to meet us
and I gave him a big hug.
Da suggested we went into the tearooms nearby. As I sat
there looking at him I could see that the light around him was
almost invisible: there was just a slight flicker, like a thread of
light broken in a hundred places. I could see his guardian
angel standing behind him, much taller than him, supporting
him and holding onto his human body – holding his body and
soul together.
Over tea Da mentioned to me that he didn't feel well, that
breathing was difficult. This was the first indication he had
given me of physical problems. Every second with my da was
precious now. We walked him back to his car and I gave him
a big hug. I thought it would be the last time I would see him
alive.
The following day, I was washing vegetables at the kitchen
sink when an angel whispered in my ear, 'Your Da is coming
to see you for the last time.' I hadn't even had the chance to call
my angels, when there was a honk of a car horn at the gate.
Everything was in slow motion. I was surprised to see Da
already out of the car, standing at the gate, looking as if he
didn't want to open it, not wanting to come in.
My heart was beating fast. He called out to me to say he was
very tired but had a strong need to bring this vacuum cleaner
to me. I went to open the gate for him to come in, but Da said,
'No, Lorna, my lungs feel like turnips. I must go home.' He
stood at the far side of the gate and I stood inside. I didn't open
it. His guardian angel was carrying him in his arms and I could
see only a tiny trace of light around him.
I know you could ask why didn't I open the gate, but I was
respecting Da's wish not to do so. A connection had to be
broken for our souls to separate, that is why Da would not let
me open the gate – he knew we had to stay on opposite sides
of it. Spiritually, Da knew the gate was not to be opened, but
how much more he knew at that time, I don't know. I smiled
at my Da and reached out and held his hand. We said our
goodbyes and Da went home. I told Joe later that evening that
Da was dying. He didn't say much, but just held me in his
arms.
Two days later, our souls completely separated. It was the
morning of Saint Patrick's Day: the 17th of March. Joe was not
feeling well, so I told him not to bother about coming with the
children and me to the St Patrick's Day parade and to stay in
bed. We all had breakfast and I got the children ready to go to
the parade in Maynooth. Down in the town the parade was in
full swing. The children were given sweets and shook hands
with the clowns and everyone was having a great time. I was
trying to smile and be happy for the children so as not to spoil
their fun, even though at times I thought the parade would
never end.
I was relieved when, as I eventually walked home with the
children, Angel Michael appeared beside me. I could feel his
hand on my shoulder to comfort me. 'You're not alone, Lorna,'
he whispered in my ear. I was trying not to cry, knowing that
if the children saw me, they would be upset too.
'I feel so empty,' I whispered back to Michael, 'and my da is
gone! I can feel no connection with him. He's gone.'
'Your da will come to you, spiritually, in the future,' Angel
Michael whispered back, 'but not for a long time. Remember
what you both share together – the connection, the partnership
between your souls.'
'I know, Michael,' I said, 'but just now my human part is
really hurting.'
Angel Michael strolled alongside me in silence, the two boys
ran ahead of us and Ruth was in the buggy as her little legs
were tired. A short distance from the gate of the cottage,
Michael slipped his hand into mine, 'Lorna, you know the
connection you have with God and your angels can never be
broken.'
I stopped and looked at my angel. 'Michael, thank you. I
needed to hear that.'
A car drove up the road and Michael disappeared. We were
only home about a half an hour when my brother Cormac
drove up. I looked out the window and Cormac was standing
at the gate. I smiled, because he didn't open the gate either; he
waited until I opened the gate for him. My brother was
unaware of his playing a part in a spiritual blessing for our
father; that he was taking the place of our Da at that moment
as he walked through the gate. A beam of light appeared for a
brief second, and I knew it was Da saying thank you.
'I know, Cormac,' I said, 'our Da is gone.'
Cormac said, 'I am trying to tell you that Da has died.'
'Come in and have some tea,' I said. An hour or so later, we
all went down to see Mum.
Even when Joe was working, money did not seem to stretch
very far. Many times the electricity was turned off because we
had not paid the bill. Also, Christopher needed a gluten-free
diet which meant I could not buy any cheaper brands of food,
so I would frequently thank the angels for the garden, as
growing our own vegetables helped a lot.
In the back of my mind I still had that vague feeling of being
watched, and I sometimes thought fearfully of what Elijah had
said to me about being tested by Satan the night of the picnic
by the lake in Donadea. I'd try and put it out of my mind and
hope it wouldn't happen, but deep down I knew it would.
Joe was eventually laid off by the carpet factory. They said
they were letting others go, but I believe it was because of his
health and his long absences. He got a temporary job back in
CIE, the Irish transport company. Joe used to go down to the
main road and thumb a lift to work: sometimes he was lucky
but other times it took him hours to get to work, so he always
had to leave early.
One morning he got a lift from a driver who crashed; the
driver was okay, but Joe had serious concussion. He was in
hospital for a few days and while there he was diagnosed as
diabetic. All that Elijah had shown me was starting to unfold.
He never went back to work at the transport company.
It was the end of November, getting closer and closer to
Christmas, and we had barely enough money to put food on
the table and to keep the fire alight. One day I was out in the
garden breaking brussels sprouts off stalks and putting them in
a bag while it was lashing rain. I was soaked and felt completely
miserable and I got really cross with the angels. 'We
can't live on vegetables alone!' I shouted at them. I was in tears.
Suddenly I saw a hand of light go into the bag. I looked up and
there was Angel Hosus; he looked as wet as I did, which made
me laugh and that made me feel a bit better.
'Hosus, do you not realise how bad things are?' I said, 'I have
nothing for the children for Christmas. I need some miracles;
there's no food other than vegetables and the electricity has
been cut off again. I don't even have my engagement ring to go
to the pawnbrokers. My ring is already pawned and I can't see
Joe and me ever being able to get the money together to get the
ring back.'
Angel Hosus reached out his hands and held my face.
Looking up into his eyes was like looking into Heaven.
'Lorna, we are whispering in people's ears,' he said, 'but it's
very hard sometimes to get them to listen.'
'Why can't people hear the angels like I do, Hosus?' I asked.
'Lorna,' Hosus replied, 'People hear the angels talking to
them but they frequently think it's a silly thought and
disregard what they are being asked to do. If a person shows
any signs of listening to our whispers about helping someone
else, even with the simplest of tasks, we will inspire confidence
within them. People are always afraid they will make fools of
themselves; but they never make a fool of themselves by
helping someone.'
'Hosus,' I said, 'I am going to pray that people will listen to
their angels.'
Hosus disappeared and I went back into the cottage. A few
days later, with only two weeks to go to Christmas, I was
walking down the hill to town to collect the boys from school
when a car passed and stopped. There was a man and a woman
in the car and the man wound down the window and said
hello. At first I thought they were looking for directions, but
when I looked into the car I could see their guardian angels
faintly.
'We know you've two young boys,' the man said.
At that, his wife got out of the car, opened the boot and took
out a large white bag saying, 'These are from Santa Claus. Our
boys have grown out of them.'
I was dumbfounded. I couldn't believe it! Before I could say
a word, she got back into the car and they started to drive
away. I called after them, 'Thank you!'
The car lit up for a moment as I watched them going up
the hill. I was laughing and jumping with joy, saying,
'Thank you, angels. Those people listened!' I was so happy. I
opened the bag and looked in to see a variety of toys for
young boys.
I hurried on my way so that I could give myself time to call
into Jim the butcher's and leave the bag with him so that the
boys wouldn't see it. Waiting for the boys in the schoolyard, I
was so thrilled, so delighted; I couldn't wait to tell someone
what had happened. I nearly burst waiting to tell Joe.
At the first chance I got when the children were out of
earshot, I told Joe the whole story, describing every detail. He
tried to work out who the man and woman were as he knew a
lot of people in the area, whereas I knew hardly anyone. In
fact, until recently I have never really been allowed to make
close friends. For some reason the angels seemed to need me
to be quite solitary. I did have my family, of course, but at
times I would have loved to have friends.
Joe thought our good Samaritans might have been a couple
he knew from Leixlip. If it was, though, he was never able to
thank them because we were never sure.
'Don't you know it is the angels' doing?' I said.
He laughed and said, 'Thanks, angels.' I laughed too; I was
so relieved.
However, Christmas dinner was another matter. There were
two days to go to Christmas and Joe and I could still see no way
of being able to buy a packet of biscuits, never mind a turkey.
Yet the angels kept appearing, constantly telling me not to
worry, that something was happening, that someone was
listening.
Christmas Eve arrived and the children were so excited; they
couldn't wait for Santa Claus. I've always loved Christmas
myself; I think it is a wonderful time. Throughout the
Christian world, the birthday of Jesus is the time to reach out
to others, to share and build understanding, to break down
boundaries, to bury our hatred and let our strong innate desire
for love and peace rise up.
I went to bed that night thinking that there would be no
Christmas dinner, but I thanked all my angels for everything
that they had done already and told them I was looking
forward to seeing the children's excitement when they saw
their presents in the morning.
Next morning, Christmas day, the children woke at six.
There were still some hot cinders in the fire and Joe went to the
shed to get some sticks. He hadn't even opened the hall door
when he called me and walked back into the front room
holding an envelope in his hand. There was nothing written
on it.
Joe tore open the envelope and at that moment angels filled
the room and the light around them seemed to flicker. Joe
drew out two £20 notes. I couldn't believe what I was seeing –
I was exhilarated. I threw my arms around him. The children
asked what was going on and Joe and I spoke as one. 'Santa
Claus has given us a present, too!' We ended up with the
children hugging our legs.
Imagine someone putting two £20 notes into the envelope,
coming to the house on foot or in a car, opening the gate
gently, tiptoeing up to the door and sliding the envelope under
it! It must have been very late when it was delivered, because
it had been after midnight when Joe and I went to bed.
Whoever it was had given completely anonymously: there was
no note, no card, and they expected nothing in return. It was
a godsend. They made our Christmas. I thank whoever they
are for listening to their guardian angels.
I have always told my children that the name Santa Claus
comes from Saint Nicholas, and that Saint Nicholas works
through people and inspires them to give presents to others.
Saint Nicholas had clearly been at work here, as well as the
angels.
Forty pounds was a huge amount of money at that time –
about eight weeks' of grocery money.We felt like millionaires!
Joe wrote a shopping list: lemonade, biscuits, a few sweets and
other bits and pieces and, most importantly, a chicken, so the
children could pretend it was a turkey. In the meantime,
before we could shop, we had great fun playing with the
children.
As we got ready for Mass and walked down to the church, I
felt wonderful. As we all walked in through the church door I
said to Joe, 'I hope the shopkeeper will have some cooked
chickens.' Joe made me laugh by saying, 'What a thing to be
thinking of going into Mass.' But during Mass I prayed for a
cooked chicken! I thanked God and the angels for everything,
and particularly for whoever had slipped the envelope under
our door.
When Mass was over, we headed straight to the only shop in
Maynooth that was open on Christmas morning – Barry's, on
Main Street. As we were walking from the church we turned
the corner into Main Street and I saw Angel Hosus standing in
Barry's doorway, radiating love. Joe and the children walked
ahead of me. I hesitated for a brief moment in the doorway of
the shop. Hosus touched me on the shoulder and I said, 'Thank
you for your radiant gift of love.'
'Can you smell the chickens cooking?' Hosus asked, and
then disappeared.
The shop was crowded. People were buying bits and pieces
and wishing everyone they met a 'Happy Christmas and a
Prosperous New Year'. Joe was at the counter talking to the
shopkeeper, Mrs Barry. She said she had a few orders for
cooked chickens, for old people mainly, and that we were in
luck as she had put on a few extra chickens to roast.
Mrs Barry had a big smile on her face, and I know she was
happy that she had put the extra chickens on. For a brief
instant her angel appeared behind her and I nodded and said a
silent thank you to her angel and to Mrs Barry for listening
to it.
'It won't be cooked for about another half an hour,' Mrs
Barry said. Joe said that was okay and gave her the rest of the
shopping list.
We walked around the town, looking in the shop windows
and entertaining the boys, while Ruth fell asleep in the buggy.
Then, when we walked back into the shop, the smell of the
chickens was gorgeous. Mrs Barry said we had timed it well, as
she had just taken the chickens out of the oven. She wrapped
one up well and put it in a bag, while the rest of the shopping
went into a box. Joe paid her and we thanked her and wished
her a happy Christmas.
Joe took the box and I carried the warm bag back home to
the cottage. In the kitchen, Joe put the box of groceries on the
table and the children, all excited, helped to empty it of the
sweets, biscuits and lemonade. It felt like a banquet.
I checked the chicken and turned to Joe, 'I can't believe it. It
even has stuffing in it – it was very good of Mrs Barry to do
that, not only cooking chickens on Christmas morning, but
stuffing them as well.'
When the rest of dinner was ready, the candles were lit and
the chicken was put in the centre of the table. The meal was
gorgeous: that chicken tasted nicer than any turkey I have ever
had before or since. We had a great Christmas.
The next few months were cold; we even had snow. We were
all out in the garden throwing snowballs, the children had
started to build a snowman and I was watching my younger
son, Owen, rolling a snowball, when an angel whispered in my
ear, but didn't appear.
'Is that you, Angel Hosus?' I asked.
'No, I am Owen's guardian angel.' The angel replied, still not
showing himself. 'I want you to watch your son. I'm going to
show you something.'
At that moment Owen called, 'Mummy, look at the snowball.'
His big brother, Christopher, ran over to help and in no
time at all they had rolled a snowball nearly as big as Owen.
'You have made that big enough for the body of the snowman,'
I said, as I turned and walked towards the cottage. 'Now you
just need to make another snowball as big as a football for the
head then find stones for the eyes and mouth and a carrot for
the nose.'
But then Owen's guardian angel called out, 'Where are you
going, Lorna?' I had thought that the angel just wanted me to
watch the two boys pushing their enormous snowball – I
turned around and there he was. Owen's angel had revealed
himself to me. He was extremely tall in appearance, his eyes a
stunning emerald green and he radiated a smile. It was as if he
was saying to me, 'Look at what you nearly missed by turning
your back on me, Lorna.' He was dressed in a suit of armour
which was very fine and looked like silver, but then a moment
later it changed colour, into what looked like the colour of a
fiery flame, in stark contrast with the white snow all around.
His feet seemed to be embedded in the snow and glowed under
it, yet I know his feet weren't actually touching the ground, or
even the snow. Just looking at Owen's guardian angel made me
feel very happy.
'Lorna, look at your son.' As the angel said these words,
Owen stood up from pushing the enormous snowball and
turned towards me with a big smile, looking very proud of
himself. The next moment I saw a magnificent, beautiful
energy emerging from Owen's chest, getting larger by the
second. As it formed it looked like a shield, but then it took on
the shape of a beautiful heart. This heart was full of life: in
colours of emerald green and blue, like running rivers
mingling. It was floating in front of my little son's chest,
directly connected to it. I was astonished! It was breathtaking
in every way.
'What does that mean?' I asked.
Realising Owen's guardian angel was standing at my left hand
side, with his hand on my shoulder, I wanted to turn
around to face him, but he told me not to. I did as he said and
didn't turn to him. He continued, 'The heart is the symbol of
the shield of life; the giver of life and love, the protector of the
earth, of what is right and wrong.'
I smiled and said to the angel, 'That's an awful lot for a
grown man to represent, let alone a little child.'