The Practicality of Angels

Angels are far more complicated than humanity wants to believe.

I’ll tell you, there are more Angels in New Age and Spiritual marketplaces than can possibly dance on the head of a pin. Have you noticed?

Angels are absolutely everywhere.

You’ve got Angels on coffee cups, journals, magic wands, t-shirts, door chimes, car decals and pet tags, even Tarot and oracle cards.

Angels are the first point where a lot of people cross over from the “all of this is claptrap” school of thought to “I guess maybe there IS something to all this Stuff.”

I never considered myself an angel person when I started on the Lightworker’s path. I didn’t want to be, frankly.

Ootsie-cutesy angels were (and are) SO not me.

Angels seemed too Barbie-dolls-with-wings; I valued practical, even as an intuitive.

Numerology and Tarot were far more me as I first walked the Psychic Yellow Brick Road.

I gravitated more toward numerology, with its formulae and rules; I dove into Tarot cards, whose archetypal information I found to be something concrete.

Angelic beings and Angel energy called to me NOT at all.

Even in the beginning, when I was putting my hands on anything that looked at all metaphysical, I’d find too many angel books came across as fluffy, or specious, or both.

But it’s a rare person who sets themselves on the Light Road who doesn’t run into angels sooner or later, me included.

Angels are disembodied energy of immense power and compassion.

That’s because angels are one of Spirit’s fastest and most profound ways of dealing with dangerous situations or doubting Thomases in ways that can’t be ignored.

And I got to have angel encounters for both of those sorts of adventures.

Hands on healing, with no training? Miraculous and inexplicable.

The first encounter happened in 1994, when, suddenly and with no training, I found myself able to do hands-on healing and talk to dead people.

I couldn’t explain why I could do what I did; I just knew I was being “handed my draft notice” and called to service. So I bowed my head and used my hands.

Every time I started doing my work, someone — or something — put hands gently over mine, and we worked together.

In healing, it was always someone other than me; I was just the channel for the angelic energy.

People would feel presences they could not explain, and get healings neither of us could logically justify.

And the presence didn’t feel like any spirit guide I was aware of — I had those, knew those, and they simply said, “The healings are larger than we are. Trust that.”

So I tentatively, grudgingly, accepted the fact that somehow I’d come to angelic notice. But I didn’t want to get all “glurpy purple,” as I said to my friends. I still wanted to be solidly based.

Besides, who was I to expect angelic attention, or even more, assistance? I was neither saintly, nor particularly devout at that point. They had better things to do, I was sure.

Except…

Upstate New York in the snow is awful for driving.

In February of 2002, I was on a rural road in upstate New York. It had been warm, then cold, and rain had changed to a light snow overnight.

Suddenly, my tires hit a patch of black ice under snow. My car swerved toward a stand of trees.

I wrenched the wheel. Too hard — I spun in the other direction, clipping a pine tree, knocking down a telephone pole.

I felt the car do a rollover, and found myself hanging, upside down, with electrical wires over the car.

I wasn’t even wearing a seat belt.

Looking back, I realize that angels had the wheel from the first skid.

They had to have done so, because at no time did I fear what was happening. It felt like slow motion, very clear. I had absolutely no fear of injury or death; it was as if I knew that it wasn’t my time and I was being taken care of.

The EMTs couldn’t find anything wrong.

I eased myself out of the car. Within half an hour I had flagged someone down, who called an ambulance.

I was immediately strapped to a backboard like I’d broken every bone in my body, though I protested I was fine. I remember the EMT checking my pulse and blood pressure and saying, “You’re the cool one. 120/80 and a slow and regular pulse.”

I had a couple of small bruises on my shoulders.

My back was wrenched and I was in pain for a few days.

But for a woman in a flipped car with no seat belt? Nothing short of miraculous.

Everything was smashed — except where I was.

Especially when I saw my car at the tow truck’s garage. It was smashed to bits everywhere but where I had been sitting. It was as if there was a protective shell in that one place.

Two gifts of spirit. Inexplicable, loving hands had been there in every single occurrence. How could I possibly doubt the presence of Angels anymore?

I couldn’t. And that day, I stopped trying…

It’s been years since that last encounter.

My intuitive work has blossomed into a full time career.

I read for clients all over the world, and whether I’m doing divination work, channeling, healing, retrieving past lives or doing intuitive counseling I’m still as practical as I know how to be while working with them.

But I’m finding there is nothing more practical than an angel when God wants to get a point across.

Always there.

And when I’m in a stuck place, either in my own life or while working with a client, I hold out my hand and wait for that warm touch and the rustle of a wing in my ear. It never fails to arrive in some form or another. And the assistance is as practical as I need it to be.