MYSTERY: ANGEL MESSENGERS

ANGEL MESSENGERS

Is it merely wishful thinking that angels exist? It seems a lovely, if harmless fantasy. Right? Those rosy cheeked Hallmark angels. How cute they are!

I can tell you that angels do exist, that sent by God, they visit us with messages from God. It's a dangerous thing to admit that one not only believes in angels, but that they have seen angels and have communicated with them.  Such an admission may be regarded by many as madness, an overactive imagination, wishful thinking. All that. So be it, even though polls show some 80% of people believe in angels.

Pope Francis said in his daily mass at the Feast of The Guardian Angels, "The doctrine on angels is not fantasist. No, it's reality....According to church tradition we all have an angel with us, who protects us and help us the understand things."

The tradition is that every individual has his appointed guardian angel, in our Saviour's words: "See that you despise not one of these little ones; for I say to you that their angels in Heaven always see the face of My Father Who is in Heaven" (Matthew 18:10)

See  Matthew 4:1 And now Jesus was led by the Spirit away into the wilderness, to be tempted there by the devil. 2 Forty days and forty nights he spent fasting, and at the end of them was hungry. 3 Then the tempter approached, and said to him, If thou art the Son of God, bid these stones turn into loaves of bread. 4 He answered, It is written, Man cannot live by bread only; there is life for him in all the words which proceed from the mouth of God.[1] 5 Next, the devil took him into the holy city, and there set him down on the pinnacle of the temple, 6 saying to him, If thou art the Son of God, cast thyself down to earth; for it is written, He has given charge to his angels concerning thee, and they will hold thee up with their hands, lest thou shouldst chance to trip on a stone.[2] 7 Jesus said to him, But it is further written, Thou shalt not put the Lord thy God to the proof. 8 Once more, the devil took him to the top of an exceedingly high mountain, from which he shewed him all the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them, 9 and said, I will give thee all these if thou wilt fall down and worship me. 10 Then Jesus said to him, Away with thee, Satan; it is written, Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and serve none but him. 11 Then the devil left him alone; and thereupon angels came and ministered to him.

The cult of Angels is Scriptural. The Bible contains many descriptions of hierarchy in the angelic realm in both the Old Testament  and the New Testament. The most complete site on the tradition of angelicals can be found here:

http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/01476d.htm

So what does all that prove. Nothing, of course if you don't believe in God's word, the Bible, or any other religious tradition of angelicals. You can go on your merry way, and blessings be upon you.

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Years ago while I was meditating a woman with shoulder length black hair appeared to me. In meditation one learns to let thoughts and images appear and go. But this woman had an arresting quality. She had no particular expression on her face that I could identify. She was silent, but somehow she conveyed meaning to me. The feeling was calm watchfulness. She seemed to mean wellness for me. Faith? I still can't pin it down. Thinking about her now, I can still feel her calm assurance, for want of a better description.  My mother has had that expression the second time I 'saw' her after her death. The meditation seeing, was many years before my mother passed over.

A day dream, a waking dream, years ago. Another sighting. Much more alarming. A young, muscled man with curly blond hair cut short, dressed in a short white tunic. He wore a band of silver around his upper arm. He gave out a feeling of strength and great power  I asked him who  he was. Misha, he said. And it was not a gentle introduction. Pay attention. Be not a hypocrite. Arm yourself...Those were not his exact words, but that was the feeling of this angel Misha. He showed his teeth clenched, lips red with intention. A warning I needed at the time.

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A waking dream: I was talking to a friend we had invited for dinner. I don't remember the discussion exactly, but he was a writer, a poet. He was talking about his poems about love. The room we were in morphed into a blinding white light. And I remember crying and thinking, 'This is the meaning of life!' All, good and bad, all of life was a unity. And I was filled with a Joy beyond explanation. I thought I might die in that Joy. I still remember that feeling after these many years. The complete certainty that all was truly in God's hands, that all is well and all manner of thing would be well.

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Another waking dream. I was in Maine. A bright sunny day in Autumn. I left our cottage for a walk and instead of going down to the lake I turned right down the Carrier road. The voice said, What do you see? Brightly colored leave of Maple and Oak. And enormous White Pine weeping great globs of pitch. The air began to vibrate. The pitch turned to blood red tears. I said aloud, the pines are weeping. Crackle of leaves on the dirt road. A young man with long dark hair tied back, wearing jeans and a flannel shirt and carrying a bright red backpack. I said hello. He returned the greeting. And then stared at the pine tree I had been looking at, blood pitch dripping down. 'All things are well and truly living beings,' He wasn't speaking words. He was thinking these things to me. You don't speak my language, he explained.  There was an aura about this man. A presence that was unnerving. Given that apparently I was reading his mind and he mine. We know everyone who lives in this cove. I have never seen you around here. Do you live in one of the cottages? Rent one for vacation. I knew it was a stupid question. No. I'm not from around here. What is your name?  Richard, he said offering no last name. I dared not ask him. He stood there smiling though that doesn't describe it. Beaming? That was more like his expression, but still inadequate. Where are you from? He lifted his arms and pointed to the sky, which had turned a deep indigo color studded with star gems of every color. It staggered me, Who are you? What are you? I'm an angel. An angel? An angel named Richard??? Come on. Where are your wings? I don't show them very often down here. I don't  want to scare people. Scare people? It's not my mission. Your mission. Yes. To show things to people they otherwise wouldn't notice. Life as you know it is so very much more than the conscious mind can take in.The blood tears of the pine. The glory of the Cosmos. Earth and heaven. Unity of Creation. Yes. Something like that. Was he winking? A hippy guy, this? Ha! You mean like those nice folks who come down here to sell their garden produce? Nice people, those. They know me. So, what about the wings? Well alright. If you wish.

Out of a place behind the red backpack the wings unfolded. White, but as though glitter had been sprinkled all over the feathers, flashing colors moving to and fro. Unfolding slowly the wings rose. Ten feet high? More? And the man himself enormous now. Filling the entire sky above me. I dropped to my knees on the ground. Then instantly the man was the man I first had seen. Jeans, well worn flannel shirt, red backpack, hair tied back into a ponytail. He continued down toward Carrier's cottage, and disappeared.

Whenever I think about Richard Angel small details change and others come to mind. How incredible that an angel named Richard, real, imaginary, or whatever he was, changed my life. I remember thinking then, and still do think, So, everything written about God is true. And more. So much more.

The Psalmist asked, What is humankind that Thou art mindful of them? I ask myself that question every day.

Ann J. Ahnemann 11/7/15