I was 7 years old and it was Summertime. My 3 siblings and I were holidaying at my grandparents.There weren't many toys to play with so we used to make up our own games. On that particular day the game de jour was scaring each other to death.
My younger sister was the master of this game. I was sitting innocently on my grandmothers orange velour couch, drinking pink milk when my dastardly sister leaped out from behind the sofa with a grizzly roar, startling me so much that I sprayed my yummy milk all over my pretty yellow sundress.
'Haha! I'm the winner' declared the brat. 'I'm the best Scarer, you can't beat me!'
'We'll see about that...' I muttered under my breath as my sister skipped away to terrorise the cat in the backyard.
Now, to find the perfect hiding spot.
I was going to startle my sister so much that not only would she spill her pink milk, she'd wet her pants. Stealthily, I headed to my grandparents bathroom. It was an ocean of 1950's turquoise mosaic tiles and aquamarine enamel. Aha! I ducked into the shower stall, a pebbly cave of blue. My white sandals splashed in a shallow puddle of leftover water. The damp plastic shower curtin clammily clung to my sundress and my hair everytime a breeze blew. My plan was to stay there until my sister went to the toilet and had to come into the bathroom to wash her hands. Then I'd jump out and scare her. Surely I'd be the winner then.
The sound of drip, drip, drip from the the dripping basin tap was making me want to go to the toilet. Too much pink milk.
Suddenly I heard the bang of the back flyscreen door. I could hear my sister running down the hall, past the bathroom and into the kitchen where Grandma was calling out for her.
Ok. Slight change of plan.
My bladder could hold out no longer.
I ducked out of the shower and leaned back stealthily against the bathroom door, blending into the shadows. I heard my grandmother say to my sister, 'Here, take this out to Papou'. Papou was preparing a barbecue lunch for us outside.
Aha! She'd be heading my way again. I would jump out just as she reached my doorway.
My heart was racing, building up in excitement and anticipation.
I heard the sound of my sister's squeaky steps as she scuttled along the yellow plastic hall-runner my grandmather used to protect her plush-pile tangerine carpet.
She's nearly here, I thought to myself excitedly.
I was just about to pounce when suddenly I felt It.
Firm, but gentle on my shoulder.
And a voice, inside my head, also firm but gentle, that simultaneously spoke the words 'No/Stop'.
I turned behind me but there was nothing there.
Except there was. I couldn't see it, but I could feel it.
And she felt tall, as tall as the ceiling, because I felt my head looking up towards 'her', where I felt her beautiful 'face' would be. All I could see was sunlight on my face and a calm, blissful serenity took over my body.
I turned back towards the doorway and watched my sister run past. She was oblivious to me. I watched her charge down the hall with a big sharp knife held out infront of her.
And then I understood.
If I had leapt out when I'd intended, my sister would have impaled me with that kitchen knife, most likely killing me.
My Guardian Angel saved me.
That Voice has guided me on several occassions in my life. The night I met my Husband, and the night my father died. I trust it and it makes me feel safe. I know that Everything Will Be All Right. Even when I'm alone, I know I'm never alone.
There are real miraculous moments in this world. We just have to be open to them.
Do you believe in Angels?