By Sean Dietrich

JOHN—My angel story takes place when my wife was dying, and I watched everything go downhill in a matter of months. And every night, I would hear a voice tell me “You can get through this, John.”

On the night she died, I heard that voice again. And this time it was my wife’s voice saying, “John, I’m okay. Don’t quit believing.”

LYNN—When I was a young woman someone tried to attack me during a home invasion, but the man was never able to touch me. I screamed for help and something prevented the man’s hands from physically touching me, like he was paralyzed. I know it was an angel that saved me.

BARBARA—A few weeks after my husband’s death, in a fitful sleep state, I heard my husband’s words spoken gently: “Honey, remember Psalm 30:11.” Then the voice went away.

The first thing the next morning, I looked up the verse. I found these words:
“Thou has turned for me my mourning into dancing; thou has put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness.”

KATHY—It was 1977 and we had traveled from Alabama to North Dakota for my grandparents’ 50th anniversary. I had twin girls—a daughter, a son, and another son on the way.

On the day we were loading the car, after the reunion, my sister asked one of the twins (Angie) to tell us about a dream she had.

Angie said, “Angels from heaven came down and brought me to heaven and I saw Jesus.”
I worried about it all the way home and for quite a while after that. But the memory of my daughter’s dream eventually faded.

Flash forward to 1978, the girls were almost 7 years old. It was a sunny day, unseasonably warm, and the girls went to play outside with friends.

Suddenly, I had an overwhelming need to look out the window. It was as though the world was standing still. The children were just standing, not moving. And there, in the street, lay my daughter, Angie. I rushed to call 911 but in my heart I knew.

She had chased a ball across the street. An accident happened. She had a closed-head injury. I had been given a great gift of nearly 7 years with my “Angel” Angie.

SALETA—I was a hospice social worker, traveling to visit a patient. I had one hand on the wheel, watching the road and getting ready to merge onto a major overpass.
Suddenly, I heard a voice, so clearly, as if it were sitting next to me.

“Both hands on the wheel,” the voice said.

I was confused, but I put both hands on the wheel tightly.

A large van with a metal ladder on top came flying up from behind me and cut me off at the overpass exit. As they passed me, doing well over 80, the ladder flew off and landed in front of me. I was able to avoid it with inches to spare because I was somehow prepared. I’ve never forgotten that day.

KRISTEN—My sister was 8 in 1979 when she was diagnosed with a spinal cord tumor. After several unsuccessful surgeries my parents were told there’s nothing that could be done. My sister’s body began wilting away as she lost her ability to walk and use her arms.

She was 11 when a friend gave my dad a “Reader’s Digest” issue about a pediatric neurosurgeon doing experimental procedures for terminally ill children.

After a call to New York City, Dr. Fred Epstein invited my sis for a consultation. We live in rural North Carolina, and it was quite the undertaking to travel that far, but this was our only hope.

Dr. Epstein agreed to try the procedure but, of course, laid out all the possible opportunities for what could go wrong. My family flew home to make the decision and my parents had very differing opinions.

But as soon as my mom stepped off the plane in Charlotte, something, an angel, began tugging on her. It was constant, relentless tugging, an invisible being working overtime on her. Mom had this feeling that we should do the surgery.

Three days later, Mom convinced everyone that the surgery should happen. Mom didn’t tell anyone for years about the angel. But it was the angel’s tug that gave us an extra 30 years with my “Sissy.” She was the 60th patient to try this experimental procedure, and it worked. And now my “Sissy” is an angel herself.

LEANNE—I had been visiting my mom as she had made the decision to not continue cancer treatments. I had been with her for two weeks and we spent hours talking about life, family, and faith. That was how we connected—long talks over the kitchen table, or on the phone across two thousand miles. We talked daily.

During one of our last conversations, we were talking about faith. I asked her, “So, Mom, when the time comes, and you are in heaven, please give me some kind of a sign to let me know that you’re there.”

In her own spunky way, she said, “Okay, honey, I’ll trip you.”

The following Sunday, as I was walking to my room, I had a misstep and went into a full frontal fall. I remember thinking, “Oh, how embarrassing.”

Thankfully, I caught myself before I hit the ground. But the moment I walked into my room, my phone rang, and my dad said through tears, “Mom’s gone, honey.”

When I realized the timing of the moment of my trip, I called my dad to tell him about it. To this day, we talk about “the trip,” and we are both so grateful to God for letting us know that she made it home.

LISA—One day when my twins were napping, I was out mowing. I noticed a yellow jacket nest in the ground. So I got some wasp spray and proceeded to spray it.

Then, a neighbor I had never seen before was standing in the backyard next door and telling me to get away from the dangerous nest and run inside the house.

When my husband got home I told him about the wasp nest and about the neighbor who told me to get away.

My husband just looked at me and told me that no one lived in that house next door.
Then, when my husband went out to kill the nest and dig it up, we realized the nest was layers deep with thousands of wasps.

BRAD—Sean, I have an angel story. We were newlyweds. My mother-in-law was my wife’s best friend. They talked every day.

My mother-in-law taught high-school English and had a brain aneurysm in class. We rushed from Birmingham to Tupelo to the hospital to see her.

We stopped for gas where my wife went into the store and we accidentally locked ourselves out of the car. Frantic, I prayed for help.

Next, a bearded guy in a Led Zeppelin T-shirt asked if we needed help. He jimmied the door open. And when we turned to thank him, he was gone. We made it to the hospital and my mother-in-law squeezed my wife’s hand before she passed.

I’m like you, sometimes a skeptic, but I know what I saw with my own eyes that day.

ME—Don’t quit believing.

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