Four Stories of Guardian Angels: Are These Heavenly Protectors Real or Fantasy?
The Angel of Mercy
Nurses sometimes seem like angels on earth to the people in their care. The following story illustrates how one critically ill patient was brought back from the brink of death by an angel in white, one who may very well have been "heaven sent."
Hospitals are places where countless people are treated and go on to live long, happy lives. Sadly, they are also the last stop for many whose bodies have betrayed them. It should come as no surprise that the souls of those who have passed on tend to linger in the hallways of the last place they knew on earth.
Susan Allen, a friend I've known since high school, shared the following story with me, which is both chilling and heartwarming at the same time. She has worked for over twenty years on several different wards in one of the last remaining hospitals in Parkersburg, West Virginia. In her years as a caregiver for patients in all stages of life, she has seen more than her fair share of beginnings and endings. This particular story exemplified a bit of both.
She was working the second shift in the cardiac intensive care unit when a patient named Patricia was assigned to her care. Patricia had suffered a major stroke and had been unresponsive for days. The staff were doing all that they could for her, but the prognosis was no good.
After several days in the CCU, Patricia opened her eyes for the first time. Her room became a flurry of activity as doctors and nurses poked and prodded her in an attempt to determine the extent of damage caused by the stroke.
Patricia's left side was partially paralyzed and her speech was slurred. Susan never forgot the look on Patricia's face when she woke up. Even with the paralysis, her face was the picture of serenity.
Weeks went by and Patricia's condition steadily improved. With physical therapy, she was becoming ambulatory. Her speech was also getting better by the day, although she was still using a pen and paper to communicate. The one question she consistently wrote was "Where is Kelly?"
No one by that name worked on the ward. Susan assumed that Kelly was a family member who Patricia was longing to see. When a member of the staff asked Patricia's son if he knew who Kelly might be, he did not. He was as perplexed as the nurses were when it came to the identity of Kelly. Reasoning that Patricia had been through a traumatic medical event, which could explain her confusion, they decided that she was probably just getting her names mixed up. The matter was settled, or so they thought.
As Patricia's speech improved, she regularly asked for Kelly. When it was explained to her that no one by that name worked in that unit, Patricia begged to differ. That is when she shared her story with the nurses.
Patricia told them that on the night she arrived at the hospital, a woman had taken her by the hand and spoken softly to her. The woman told Patricia that her name was Kelly and that she was there to help her get better. Thinking that she was a nurse, Patricia asked her if she was going to die.
Kelly had squeezed Patricia's hand and whispered to her that she would be alright. She told her that she would live to see her grandchildren grow up. Kelly assured the frightened woman that she would be fine, she only needed to close her eyes and rest. The gentle nurse also told Patricia that she would stay by her side until she was no longer needed. A sense of peace washed over her and Patricia closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. The next thing she remembered was waking up to the flurry of activity in her room.
Susan knew that the story couldn't have happened the way that Patricia described it. She had been unconscious and unresponsive when she arrived at the hospital. She had been in no condition to speak to anyone.
Visitors to the CCU were strictly monitored, they had to be buzzed in by someone at the nurse's station in order to enter the ward. No visitors were permitted in the rooms after eight o'clock in the evening. Patricia had been adamant that it had been late at night when she spoke with Kelly.
Susan asked her to describe Kelly. Patricia remembered that Kelly had been in her late twenties to early thirties with long, wavy blonde hair. She had been very pale and dressed all in white which was another reason that Patricia had assumed that she was a nurse. Kelly's eyes had exuded warmth and understanding. All of Patricia's fears and uncertainty had drained away as soon as Kelly had taken her by the hand.
Patricia went on to make a full recovery. She was released from the hospital and, as far as anyone knows, went on to live a normal life. Over the years, Susan shared Patricia's story with her fellow nurses who, to her surprise, had similar tales of their own to tell.
Kelly had apparently been making the rounds at the hospital for as long as anyone could remember. Several staff members spoke of patients who had described a young nurse named Kelly who had comforted them when they had first arrived at the hospital. She had eased their anxiety with assurances that they would recover. In fact, she would make sure of it.
Whoever Kelly was, she helped people when they needed someone to give them hope. She encouraged them and allowed them to focus on getting well. Whether she was a figment of their imaginations or a healer sent from a world we are yet to know, she truly was their angel on earth.
A Child's Saving Grace
This next story was related to me by a lady in Shreveport, Louisiana. It was told to her by her brother-in-law who had worked for many years as a highway patrolman. This unexplainable incident was something that he would never forget.
It all began with a frantic call to emergency services from a man who claimed that he had seen a woman standing in the middle of the highway on a cold, rainy night. She had appeared out of nowhere and he had nearly hit her with his car.
The man had pulled off of the roadway and searched for the woman to no avail. Terrified that perhaps he had struck her after all, he checked the side of the road and even looked over the embankment that was nearby. It was dark and he couldn't see very well, but the guard rail did appear to be damaged. There was, however, no sign of the woman anywhere.
He waited by the side of the road until the police arrived. It was then that the man described to them in more detail what he had seen. He told them that he had been driving along, minding his own business, when all at once a scantily clad woman had emerged from the darkness and stood in the middle of the lane in which he was travelling.
The police officers were intrigued. What exactly was she wearing, they wondered aloud. The man said that he wasn't completely sure, but it looked to him as though she had on only her underwear. He couldn't describe her face or anything else about her. She had appeared in an instant and then she was gone.
The man assured them that had not been drinking that night. He wasn't under the influence of any kind of medication. He offered to take whatever tests they needed to administer in order to prove that he was in control of his senses.
The patrolmen were skeptical. The man's story was farfetched, to say the least. They did decide to perform a sweep of the area in the off chance that he had hit someone with his vehicle. What they found would be something that none of the people involved could have imagined.
When the officers shone their flashlights down over the embankment, the light came to rest on the wreckage of a car. It was well off of the road and was hidden by brush. Unless someone knew the car was down there, no one would have seen it.
The policemen scrambled down the slippery embankment to investigate. It was apparent that the car had run off the road and then careened over the hill into the woods below. When they reached the car, they knew immediately that the news was not good.
The driver, a young woman, was obviously deceased. It was what they saw in the backseat that stopped them dead in their tracks. There, in the gnarled wreckage of the vehicle, was a child's car seat. They were dumbstruck when they saw that a tiny form was still strapped into the seat.
The child's eyes were closed and the officers feared the worst, but when one of them reached over and touched the little one his eyes slowly opened. They could see that it was a boy, no more than two years old and he was very much alive.
Everything changed at that moment. The patrolmen were running on pure adrenaline as they removed the child, car seat and all, and carried him up the embankment. He was cold and shivering, but strangely quiet. He didn't make a sound. He simply looked around calmly at all of the adults who were scrambling to get him out of the rainy night and into someplace safe.
The man who had called for help in the first place was in shock as he observed the scene unfolding around him. It wasn't until later, when things died down, that people started to piece together a story.
The officers involved soon learned that a woman and her young son had been reported missing early that morning. They had not returned home after spending a weekend with relatives. The female victim of the auto accident was later identified as the woman who had been reported missing. Her son, who had miraculously survived the wreck that killed his mother, was returned to his father.
Who was the woman who stood in the road and attracted the attention of the driver on that rainy night? No one ever came forward and took credit for the good deed. Was she a Good Samaritan who decided to get help for the child by stripping down to her underwear and flagging down a car before disappearing into the night? Or, was the little boy's guardian angel watching over him, making sure that someone would notice her and, in turn, summon help for the child? I don't know about you, but I tend to believe it was the latter.
Someone Watching Over Me
I firmly believe that my guardian angel was looking out for me one day in the early 1990s when I was still living at my mother's house. She resided on a little one-way street in the middle of a small town in West Virginia. Traffic on the road was, and still is, horrendous since it acts as a shortcut through town.
There is a traffic light with a four-way intersection at the end of the street. When leaving my mom's house one day, I hopped in my shiny red compact car and headed out to run some errands. My progress was halted when I reached the red light at the intersection.
I sat waiting patiently for the light to change so I could be on my way. A short time later, oncoming traffic stopped and my light turned green. I saw the light change, but for some reason I just sat there frozen in the moment.
Normally, I would have pulled out and turned left just as I had done countless times in the past. On this day, however, I felt that something was holding me back. There were no voices calling for me to remain motionless. Instead, there was something inside of me urging me to sit still. A force from someplace I can't explain was holding me to the spot. I don't think I could have pushed the gas pedal even if I wanted to.
As I sat there immobile, a car suddenly raced down the main road, running the red light. This car was moving at such a high speed that anything in its path would have been annihilated. Miraculously, no one was in their way at the moment they chose to ignore the traffic signal. That spot would have been reserved for me.
I sat behind the wheel in a state of shock for a moment. Had I pulled into traffic when my light turned green, I would have surely been hit by the speeding car. I had not seen the car coming when the light changed. There had been no reason for me to stay put. Whatever prevented me from moving on that day saved me from serious injury or something far worse.
I have told this story many times over the years. The feeling that something had held me back that day, thereby saving me from a horrifying accident, will never be forgotten.
An Angel Passing Through
My mother, who is now in her eighties, is as active as any senior citizen can be. She still works five days a week, takes care of herself and does exactly as she pleases. Recently, on one of her outings, she found herself in need of help. Where that aid came from is what makes this story unique.
On this particular day, my mom made a trip to her local drug store to do a bit of shopping, as she has done several times a week for many years. Nothing was out of the ordinary. It was a beautiful spring day like any other.
As she was exiting the store, grocery bags in one hand, her oversized purse and keys in the other, she stumbled on the curb and found herself falling onto the pavement. She remembers calling out, either in her head or out loud, "I'm falling!" Her words were lost. The parking lot was nearly empty. She was all alone.
My mother hit the ground face-first. Her glasses flew off and her bags and purse were scattered around her. She has been taking prescription blood thinners for years which proved to be very dangerous in this situation. When her face hit the concrete, blood poured from a deep gash above her right eye.
She remembers lying there watching an ever widening pool of blood form around her head. Almost instantly, she heard a woman's voice. My mother could not see clearly, but she could make out someone dressed all in white kneeling beside her.
The woman spoke soothingly and told my mother that everything was going to be alright. She lifted my mother's head and gently dabbed the blood that was still pouring out of the wound over her eye. She continually reassured my mom that there was no need to worry. She would be just fine.
My mother remembers the woman telling her that help would be coming soon and that she would have to go. Before leaving, the woman handed my mom her glasses, which did not have a scratch on them. She also made sure that the grocery bags and purse were laid neatly by my mother's side.
As one last gesture before she went along her way, the woman leaned forward and kissed my mother on the forehead. As she did so, she whispered, "Help is here." With that, she was gone.
Seconds later, my mother was surrounded by people. They had come running out of the store, employees and shopper alike. Someone yelled that they needed to call an ambulance. My mother could hear people commenting on the amount of blood that was now running down the parking lot.
Throughout all of the chaos that ensued, my mother remained calm. She knew that she was going to be alright. The first lady on the scene has assured her of that and she believed her. She says that she felt no pain or sense of panic during the entire ordeal, except for the first few seconds before the lady appeared out of nowhere to help her.
An employee of the store held paper towels on my mother's wound while they waited for the ambulance to arrive. They were soaking through as fast as he could apply them. Still, my mother remained conscious and alert. She scanned the crowd around her, hoping to see the woman who had been the first to come to her aid, but she was not among the onlookers.
My mother spent the rest of the day in the hospital. She underwent x-rays to determine the extent of her injuries. Thankfully, aside from the gash above her eye, she was in good shape. She required numerous staples to close up the wound to her face, which she endured without so much as a whimper.
She told the story over and over again of the angel in white who had taken away all of her pain and worry. From those first moments on, my mother never once complained of any discomfort as a result of the horrible fall she had taken. Although prescribed pain medication, she did not take a single pill. She said she didn't need them.
Was my mother visited by an angel that day or was someone, a nurse perhaps, simply in the right place at the right time? Whoever she was, a kind passerby or a benevolent spirit sent from the beyond, we owe her a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid. Somewhere, an angel earned her wings.
We can never really know if heavenly protectors are watching over us. Perhaps the stories you have just read are mere coincidence. It is possible that these occurrences are simply examples of our own instincts taking over when we need them most. There is also the chance that those instincts are just our guardian angels in disguise who, from time to time, attempt to steer us out of harm's way. Ultimately, the decision to listen is our own.