Angels in My Hair (20 page)

As I opened the gates, the man drove the car in. I helped him
bring Joe into the house and put him into bed. He told me he
would ring the doctor.

'How can I ever thank you for being so good?' I said.

He told me that he hadn't been able to sleep and had decided
to go for a drive, and now he was glad he had. He said goodbye
and drove away. I made Joe a cup of tea and about ten minutes
later, when the doctor arrived, Joe was sitting up in the bed,
feeling much better. The doctor laughed at Joe when he saw
him.

'I hope you haven't got me out of my bed for nothing. I was
told you had fits of pain and that you were found crawling on
your hands and knees on the side of the road.'

'All the pain is gone,' Joe said, 'I feel fine now.'

They talked and joked for a few minutes and then the doctor
said, 'Lie down flat on the bed there, maybe your appendix is
acting up again.' He put his hands on Joe's stomach and
instantly Joe shot bolt upright in the bed, screaming with
agony.

'You are in trouble, Joe,' the doctor said. 'I'm going to send
for an ambulance and write a note for the hospital.'

The angels continually amaze me: who else do you think
they were talking to that night, but my Da! They told him to
get up and go to our cottage. Da pulled into the drive behind
the doctor's car just as the doctor was asking where the nearest
telephone was.

Da walked in asking, 'What's happening?'

The doctor told him that Joe needed to go to the hospital and
that he was just about to call an ambulance. Da offered to take
Joe to the hospital, but the doctor refused and said he needed
an ambulance. Da went out and moved his car out of the way
and the doctor went down the road to where there was a public
telephone. He was back in two minutes, saying that the
ambulance was on the way. The doctor went back out to his
car to write a note about Joe for the hospital and I went into
the kitchen, leaving Da with Joe.

I was filling the kettle with water again when I felt the gentle
hands of the angels caressing me, taking the anxiety out of my
body, whispering that Joe would be all right, that he would
have a tough time but he would pull through.

The doctor came back in, saying the ambulance had arrived.
Da told me he would follow the ambulance in his car and be
there for Joe. I, of course, had to stay with the children as I was
still feeding Ruth. I gave Joe a hug.

'Don't worry,' he said, 'I'll be home in no time.'

They had gone. I walked back into the bedroom; the
children were fast asleep, their guardian angels watching over
them. I smiled back, knowing the angels had kept the children
asleep while all the commotion was going on. I thanked them
and turned around. Angel Hosus was standing in front of me.

'Lorna, go to bed now.' He said, 'we're going to put you to
sleep.'

I got into bed and did not wake until ten o'clock the next
morning, and the children slept too. While I was getting
breakfast ready, Christopher came into the kitchen asking
where his Dad was. I explained that he was in hospital and that
as soon as everyone had had breakfast, we would ring the
doctor to find out how he was.

I was feeding Ruth when my Da called. The children were
delighted to see him. I thanked him for last night and asked
him how Joe was, and how long he had stayed with him. Da
had been in the hospital with Joe all night: he had been rushed
into surgery, but he was now all right, although they had
feared for his life for a while.

'I will take you in every evening to see Joe,' Da offered.

I protested that that was too much to ask of him, but he
insisted and said that Mum would look after the children.

When I saw Joe that evening, he looked dreadful. He spent
two weeks in hospital, then, a few weeks later, he was back in
hospital again for about ten days with an infection. After that
he was off work for almost six months.

One day, when I was approaching the checkout in the local
supermarket, the guardian angel of a little girl sitting in a
trolley called me over. I knew the mother by sight, but I didn't
know her name.

I said hello to the little girl and her guardian angel told me
that she was unwell and asked me to touch her. I touched her
little hand as I greeted her mother and told her she had a
beautiful child. The mother said goodbye and moved on with
her daughter.

The angels told me that a connection had to be made
between myself and the child so that she would get well. This
is something that often happens, although I don't fully understand
it. A year or so later, I bumped into the same mother and
daughter, and again the child's guardian angel called me over
to her. The mother told me her little girl had been unwell; she
had been in hospital, but now she was better.

As the mother walked away with her little girl the angels told
me 'The little girl is going to get very sick, Lorna, but, because
of your touch, the strong spiritual bond that was made will
give her the strength to pull through this illness. From now on,
until she fully recovers, you will constantly see this little girl's
smile directly in front of you.'

During the following months I would regularly see this little
girl's smiling face in front of me, and I would feel her sickness
and her tears. Each time I would say a prayer for her and I
would ask God and her guardian angel to make her better. I
know this little girl was critically ill. I was the child's lifeline;
somehow, spiritually, I kept her alive. I was by her bedside in
spirit every time I was needed and I did not let her soul leave
her body. I felt the physical aspects of her sickness, as I have
with many others.

Suddenly, though, I stopped seeing her face and I knew she
was well. I thanked God and the angels and gave it little further
thought. Years later, I saw the mother and daughter walking
down the main street of Maynooth, their guardian angels
walking hand-in-hand with them. The little girl was now a
teenager and was healthy and strong. I smiled, thanking God
and the angels.

One summer day, when Ruth was a few months old, I was out
wheeling her in her pram, enjoying the sunshine, when suddenly
I felt the atmosphere change. There was an incredible
silence. The air grew very still and it seemed to get brighter. I
knew that an angel was coming. I was walking, but my feet
didn't seem to be touching the ground. I felt I was moving yet
nothing around me was moving. I felt a presence behind me. I
stopped and turned around but I could see no one. I walked
on. No sooner had I taken a step than I felt the presence again.

'Whoever is walking behind me, please make yourself
known,' I said.

There was no reply.

'Don't do this, I hate it!'

I walked on very, very slowly, and then I felt a little tap on
my shoulder. I turned around and there was an angel there. He
was just like a light – the same glowing and shimmering effect
as if you look at a star, but many times brighter. I just said,
'Hello'. No reply. Sometimes I feel a little shy talking to the
angels – and I think sometimes they feel shy talking to me.
Communication is as important in the spiritual world as it is
in the physical world, and sometimes just as hard, so I told him
that it would be easier for me to talk to him if he made himself
a bit more human-looking.

It was only when he did so that I realised it was Angel
Michael. He turned himself into a very handsome man,
maybe in his forties, about six feet tall or possibly a little
taller, with sharp blue eyes and long, dark, flowing hair to his
shoulders.

'Well, this time you've certainly made yourself handsome,' I
said and we both laughed.

We started to walk along the road, with me pushing the
pram with the baby asleep in it. He told me he had come to talk
to me about a book, a book he said the angels needed me to
write, in which they wanted me to put certain things. I replied
that deep within I had known for some time that I had to write
a book, but I admitted to him that I was scared to do so as I was
afraid of being ridiculed.

'Lorna, the day will come when you will do it for us,' Angel
Michael replied. It's now many, many years later, but the day
has finally come, and this is my first book.

Since the first time I saw him in my bedroom as a little baby,
Michael – that beautiful angel – has come and visited me
regularly. He comes in and out of my life; sometimes he comes
and walks with me, or sits down at my kitchen table, other
times he sits by the fire with me, saying he needs to get himself
warm. I laughingly tell him that angels don't feel the cold, but
he always says that he can imagine how it feels because he has
been around so many humans.

We talk as if he is a human friend. Sometimes we talk about
ordinary things and sometimes we talk about very important
things. Michael tells me that fewer and fewer people are asking
for angels to help them, so we will talk about the extraordinary
fact that there are millions of angels out there who are
unemployed.

That's why this book is being written, so that people can
realise that angels are walking beside us, that they are there all
of the time, that we just need to reach out and let them help.
It's as simple as that. I listen to Michael and he tells me what
to write; he tells me to write from my heart.

God is pouring these beautiful angels out on this world for
us, and yet many of us are ignoring them.We need to reach out
and ask them for help. It's as simple as that.

One morning, when Ruth was a few months old, I took her
down to the health centre for her checkup. When I got home
and was feeding her I felt the presence of a spirit, a ghost,
gradually approaching the cottage. I said a little prayer but
thought no more of it.

As the days passed I started to notice the presence of that
spirit visiting quite frequently, getting closer; I was feeling a
drag upon my body, forcefully pulling me down. It was as if he
was dragging me down to the floor, sometimes with quite a lot
of force. I said more prayers and asked God to take the spirit,
whoever it was, to Heaven. Then one day, when I was at the
kitchen sink with the cottage door open, I watched the spirit
come into the hall. He was a faint presence and I couldn't see
him clearly, but I had a sense that he was male and taller than
me, but I had no real idea of what he looked like. I stopped
doing what I was doing. Before I could physically feel him I
asked, 'What is it that is wrong? How can I help you?'

The spirit clung on to me saying, 'I'm here, I'm here – here I
am!' Over and over, again and again he was saying these
words, but I could not understand why. I knew he meant me
no harm, but that he was desperate, and so was pulling at me
physically, pulling me downwards very strong. I became
oblivious for a moment and when I came to, I realised I was
clinging onto the side of the sink, trying to hold myself up. The
spirit left suddenly and when he did, I called my angels and I
prayed. Then I heard a knock on the door, even though the
door was open. I turned around and there at the door were
three of my angels: Michael, Hosus and Elijah. Hosus walked
in doing his imitation of a clown's walk, which made me laugh.
I thanked him, because I needed a laugh.

'What is wrong with that spirit?' I asked.

Angel Michael came towards me then reached out and took
my hands. Angel Hosus went to my left-hand side and Angel
Elijah went to my right.

'Michael, that spirit almost pulled me down to the floor!' I
said.

'Lorna,' Michael replied, 'We will give you the physical and
emotional strength for you and the spirit, but we cannot tell
you any more, not now. Remember, we will be with you all the
time; you will never be alone.'

'Michael, I hate it when you do this. Why can't you make it
a little easier?'

'Sorry, Lorna. We can't tell you any more because then you
would not be able to help the spirit.' As Angel Michael finished
saying this, he withdrew his hands from mine.

Every day the spirit came. I never knew if it would be
morning or night; each time it pulled me down, crying in a
voice of desperation, 'I'm here, I'm here – here I am!'

As the months passed I became more and more exhausted.
Joe was back working in the wool factory and never seemed to
notice how tired I was. He was quite well during this period,
but I could always see that grey deterioration.

Eventually, I was able to discern from visions that the spirit
was a young man, aged between seventeen and twenty, called
Peter, and that he was in water, but trapped and struggling to
get out. He seemed unable to use his hands; he could not hold
on to anything. At times the water seemed to be muddy and
there was what seemed like a shelf of earth above him. This
young man's spirit was pulling, struggling. He tried and tried.
'I'm here, I'm here – here I am!' He would say this over and
over, again and again. My body somehow became intertwined
with his spirit and I felt everything, physically, as he struggled
for life. I also felt all his emotions: he wanted to be found; he
wanted to go home; he wanted his parents and family to know
where he was. I just prayed to God that he would be found,
where he was.

I asked my angels if I could tell Joe, and they said yes. One
evening, Joe came in from the garden and looked at me and
said, 'What is wrong? You look awful! Are you sick?'

'No, Joe,' I said. 'I need to share something with you.' I still
told Joe little about my spiritual life, but this time the angels
told me I really needed his help.

We sat down and I continued, 'There is a ghost of a young
man that comes to visit me. He needs my help. It's wearing me
out physically and emotionally; I need your support, your help
– just to look after me when I need it. Sometimes I need to feel
your arm around me.'

Joe put his arm around me and looked at me. He didn't
understand what was going on, how could he?

'I'll do my best,' he said.

On one of the visits of this spirit I was shown a vision: it
appeared as if through his eyes, through water – I was being
shown what had happened to him, seemingly from under the
water. He was out walking along a riverbank with a path of
some kind beside it. He was with two or three other people and
they were pushing him around. He was very frightened. They
were blaming him for something he hadn't done and he didn't
know what they were talking about. He was trying to talk his
way out of it: he was telling them they were making a mistake.
One of them shouted back at him, 'No, we are not making any
mistake.'

They beat him and kicked him to the ground and were really
hurting him. He was being punished for something that someone
else had done. Suddenly the vision ended, and then I saw
no more.

One Sunday afternoon, when Ruth was about eight months
old and all this was going on, I heard a knock on the door. It
was my brother Cormac's new wife, Sally. I had never actually
met her: I had been in hospital when they had married, a short
time before, and Joe had gone to the wedding with the children
and without me. I greeted her and told her to sit down by the
fire and get warm. 'Is Cormac not with you?' I asked her.

'No,' she replied, apologising that she couldn't stay long. 'I
just wanted to say hello and give you some photographs from
the wedding.'

Joe made her a cup of tea and as we sat by the fire she talked,
telling us how happy she was to meet us and see our new baby
daughter. Then, just before Sally left, as we were walking to the
door, she stopped and told us her brother was missing. She
was surprised that we hadn't heard, that no one had mentioned
it. She said he had been missing for some time now; that one
evening he had left to meet his girlfriend but had never arrived.
Sally said that her parents were very worried about him; they
thought maybe he had gone to England so they were in touch
with the Salvation Army and all the hostels over there. He was
on the missing persons list, but no one understood why he
would just leave like that.

'I'm sure he will turn up soon,' I said to her, and we said our
goodbyes. 'Don't be a stranger, Sally, you're always welcome.'

I can be quite slow at times; and it was only later that I
realised that, through a series of strange coincidences, I had
made eye contact with that young man several years before.
One afternoon, we had gone to visit my sister Aoife and her
husband Alan in their new home. The house was in the city
centre, with a tiny front garden with silver railings. Joe had
opened the gate and lifted Christopher up so that he could
reach the door knocker. Aoife opened the door and gave us a
great welcome.

We went into the dining room and were introduced to Aoife's
mother-in-law, a lovely, elderly lady, and she welcomed us with
open arms. The house seemed very small;maybe it was because
there was beautiful old furniture there which left hardly any
room to move. In the corner of the dining room was a fireplace
with two chairs, one to the right of and the other in front of the
fire. The fire made the room very welcoming. There was a little
pathway through the furniture from the hall to the fireplace and
out into the tiny kitchen beyond.

I was sitting at the fireplace with Owen on my knee, feeding
him but I was the only one sitting and all the rest were
standing. There were seven of us in that crowded dining room
and little kitchen. Then there was a knock on the door and
some more people squeezed into the room. I could not see who
had arrived and continued feeding Owen. It was, in fact, my
brother Cormac and Sally – the girl he would later marry – but
everyone was busy talking and I could not even see my brother
or his girlfriend. That's how crowded the room seemed to be.
I noticed a light for a brief second and tried to see where it
came from. No angels made themselves visible to me, nor did
I see anything special. It all happened so quickly. The laughter
and chat continued and obviously I could not talk openly to
the angels there, so I tried to communicate with them without
words. They didn't answer me.

I looked up a second time and I saw the light again through
the standing bodies, as if somebody within the group, but half blocked
by the others, was giving off this light. People seemed
to fade a little; everyone seemed to have moved their heads
slightly to the left or right, creating a little pathway through
which I could see across the room. I saw the side of the face of
a young man, a man I didn't know. He turned his head and
looked in my direction. His face glowed like a soft light and he
gave a little smile. I smiled back. His eyes sparkled and I saw
him for a fraction of a second more. Then people moved and
he was blocked from my sight again.

The next instant everything went back to normal. Later, I
asked my sister Aoife who the young man was. She explained
that it was Sally's younger brother, Peter. I never gave the
incident another thought.

Joe didn't make the connection either – that the spirit was
Sally's missing brother. Perhaps we weren't allowed to. It had
to be God's doing that Joe didn't make the connection; he had
a very inquisitive mind and, under normal circumstances, he
would have said to me as soon as Sally had left, that the ghost
was her brother's. But that was not God's plan. It was not time
for him to be found.

The young man's spirit continued the horrific struggle
beneath the water, not knowing where he was, struggling to
take a breath and not knowing what was above him: that
darkness, the odd, faint flicker of light. He was trying to suck
in air, but instead he was sucking in water – drowning. He
desperately wanted his family to know it wasn't his doing; he
wanted to be found and he wanted them to know he loved
them. He continued to visit me. 'I'm here, I'm here – here I am.'
These were his words, over and over again. I called on the
angels and God many times to give me strength. I prayed so
hard, constantly, that this young man would be found; that his
spirit would be free and at peace. I prayed that his family could
bring his body home and grieve for his loss, and know that he
had not run away and that he loved them.

I was sitting at the fire, exhausted, one evening and Joe
looked at me and said, 'My God, you're so pale! The ghost of
that young man has been here again. It's taking too much out
of you. You look as if you're dying, just like that young man.
This has to stop!' Joe was very cross and mad with God.

'Joe, please don't be cross,' I said. 'I cannot cope with you
being cross just now. Just support me and comfort me. The
young man will be found, please God soon.'

Joe held me in his arms and I must have fallen asleep,
because when I woke later I was still in the chair by the fire,
with a blanket around me. The children were all in bed; Joe
smiled at me then got up and made me a cup of tea.

Sitting by the fire, with a cup of tea in my hand, I said to Joe,
'You must not get cross like that again, Joe. I need you to
support and comfort me. And I particularly need your support
when God and the angels allow me to share with you the
supernatural things that God allows to happen in my life. Joe,
I need your help, especially when I'm exhausted.'

Joe gave me a hug and kiss. Holding hands in front of the
fire, we prayed together for the young man's spirit, that he
would be found soon, that he would be free and that I would
be free too. Joe knelt down in front of my chair and put his
hands on each side of my face, saying, 'If God asked me to do
the things that you do, I would have to say no, because I would
not have the courage, or strength, or your strong faith.'

Family life went on as normal and then, it happened – all of
a sudden I was free. Don't ask me what day it was or what time
it was, because I don't know, but suddenly I felt normal; I felt
human again. I was so delighted, I was jumping for joy. I knew
that the boy's body must have been found. I ran to tell Joe.
'He's been found! I know they have found his body, because
he's gone from me.' I praised and thanked God while dancing
around the cottage. Joe gave me a hug and later that day we
went down to the church and lit a candle, and I thanked God
for Peter's spirit being freed to go to God.

God had allowed Peter's spirit to stay here in this world until
his body was found, and I was used as a connection between
the supernatural and the physical world. Without that connection,
I believe he would never have been found. The
connection had been made years before, in my sister's little
house in the centre of Dublin, long before anything happened
to him.

Miracles happen all the time, and when they do, the usual
flow of cause and effect does not matter – sometimes the
miracle is put in place years before. This was a miracle that
God and the angels made sure would happen in advance. I
know Peter's guardian angel, and the guardian angels of those
involved in his death, must have worked hard to stop this
young, innocent life being taken in a wrongful act of revenge,
but the men who killed Peter did not listen to their angels,
which made me feel so sad.

Peter was a very beautiful spirit, and when his body was
found and his spirit had gone to Heaven, he did something I
did not expect him to do. He sent his sister to tell me.