Angels in My Hair (26 page)

Joe spent two weeks in hospital. I was constantly thanking
God for that miracle of giving Joe back for another little while.
I didn't know how much time we had together: whether it was
weeks, months or maybe another couple of years. In my heart,
I was hoping so much that it could be years, but I knew that
when the time came, I could not ask God again to allow Joe to
live.

Joe had been given back to me, but his health never
recovered. He stayed in bed most of the time and was never
able to work again. Things were very tough. The children did
what they could to help: they had had part-time jobs since they
were about twelve years old, and gave some of their pay to me.
Joe and I were always determined, though, that our children
would continue in school, whatever our circumstances, and
would get a good education. I always felt that I had lost out by
being taken out of school at fourteen.

I noticed our gate was quite rusty and badly in need of paint. On
a morning when I had some time to spare, and the weather was
crisp and cold, I found an old paintbrush that needed some
cleaning and half a tin of black paint in the shed and started
painting the gate. I was working away when a young boy on a
bicycle came along, stopped and said hello. It was Paul, one of
Christopher's school friends; they were around the same age,
about fourteen. 'Why aren't you at school?' I asked.

He told me he was off sick, but was well enough to give me
a hand and offered to help. I handed him an old knife and he
started to scrape loose paint off the gate. He chatted away
about school and fishing, laughing and joking in between.
After a while, I'd had enough, thanked Paul and said goodbye.
He picked up his bike and went down the road. I watched him
as he went and I saw four angels around him.

The four angels appeared to be running alongside Paul, in
front of and behind him; they gave me the impression that they
were trying to prevent him from falling off his bike. I asked,
'What are you angels up to?' I could see no reason for him to
fall; to me, he looked as if he was cycling perfectly. I did not
see his guardian angel, but I did think it was a little strange at
that time that Paul had come to visit me, something he had
never done before.

I didn't give it another thought until, about three days later;
I was out working on the gate again when I heard someone
coming. I stopped what I was doing, walked out onto the road
and there was Paul, walking towards me with his bike. His
guardian angel was behind him. I knew something was wrong;
Paul looked healthy and strong, but the light surrounding him
should have been glowing, and it wasn't. Instead, it was turned
down, making the light of life look dim around him. I also
couldn't understand why his head was down.

I called out 'Paul', and he looked up, gave me a big smile and
ran towards me with his bike. He dropped it on the ground and
asked could he help. 'Yes, you're a little late,' I replied, laughingly.
I went around to the shed to get another paintbrush,
leaving Paul standing at the gate. As I went around to the back
of the cottage I was asking the angels, 'What is wrong?' No
angels appeared, but many spoke simultaneously as if with one
voice. 'All you need to do Lorna is spend time with Paul. Listen
to him.'

'That's no problem,' I said. 'I hope I can find a paintbrush for
him.'

I did. As I went back round the side of the cottage, I saw Paul
standing anxiously at the gate, waiting for me. He was glowing
now, shining bright and I couldn't understand what made him
shine so brightly now, when a few minutes before the light was
so dim. I could see he was happy and I was delighted. We
painted the gate together and Paul laughed and joked, chatting
all the time. He mentioned that it was his birthday the week
after next.

When it was time to go, Paul went off on his bike and, as I
watched him cycle away, I could see the four angels running
with him again. It looked so comical and I smiled to myself.
The four angels' clothing appeared to be long and loose; they
ran so elegantly and they seemed to bounce lightly, like
bubbles full of hot air. They were watery amber in colour and
they shone gently, a little like light shining on water. To look
at them was very soothing on my eyes.When I could no longer
see Paul or his angels, I walked back in through the gate and
around to the sheds. I called my own angels and asked would
they tell me about Paul, but they did not reply.

Paul was on my mind constantly. The next day, I went for a
walk on my own up the lane, not far from the cottage. I
stopped at a gate into a field and I called on my angels. I
thought they were not listening and, as I turned around to
walk on further down the lane, Angel Elijah appeared, saying,
'Where are you going Lorna? Come back here.'

'It's about time,' I said, 'Where have you angels been?'

'Lorna, we have been here all the time with you,' Elijah
replied.

'Angel Elijah. I am worried about a young boy called Paul. I
know something is wrong.'

'Lorna,' said Elijah, 'all that is needed from you is to be with
Paul.'

'Elijah, I am afraid for him,' I said. 'Why do I feel fear? He is
such a beautiful child.'

'Lorna, in some cases angels are given the job of trying, if
possible, to change the future of a particular individual or
group. That's what we are trying to do for this child. We are
whispering to many people, asking them to play a part; but
only a few are listening and that might not be enough. You are
a lifeline for Paul at the moment; you are one of the reasons
why he is still here. You always listen, Lorna. Now go out to
work on the gate and we will get Paul to call over to you and
talk and laugh and have fun.'

'Can you not tell me any more, Elijah?' I begged.

'No, Lorna. You alone can't change his future. Other people
have to play their part too.'

This was a time, and I see many of them, when a series of
small events can build together into a big one. This is why
when the angels prompt you to do something small, such as
smile at someone or tell someone that they've done good work,
however inconsequential it seems to be at the time – you
should do it! Apparently inconsequential things could turn
out to be vital in the bigger scheme of things.

Every time I went out to do more work on the gate, Paul
would arrive. No matter what time of day it would be –
morning, late afternoon or in the evening – he always appeared
to help. He asked me would I invite Christopher to go fishing
with him on his birthday. I told him that I was sure that
Christopher would be happy to do that, but it would have to
be Sunday – the day after Paul's birthday – as Christopher
worked in a coal and horse yard on Saturdays. Paul said that
the plan was that all his family would be going. He was very
excited. He thanked me for letting Christopher go with them
and I told him I was putting him in charge of Christopher, to
mind him and make sure that he got back home safely, and to
catch plenty of fish so that I could cook it for tea on Monday.
Paul laughed and said he would do his best.

When Christopher got home from school that day I told him
about the invitation to Paul's birthday. Christopher was
delighted and got his fishing gear ready and left it in the hall in
anticipation. The next time I was out painting the gate, Paul
arrived. It was only a few days to his birthday and he was so
excited. We painted and Paul went home, happy. I watched
him as he cycled down the road. I saw no change in his angels;
they were so close to him, protecting him, ready to catch him.

I never saw Paul again. A day or two later, Christopher
turned the key in the hall door and came into the kitchen. He
was extremely upset and before he said a word I knew it was
about Paul. 'Mum, Paul died this morning. There was a tragic
accident. I can't believe it. We were to go fishing for his
birthday; let's call over to Paul's house, Mum.'

I was devastated; it seemed so unfair. I comforted
Christopher and gave him a big hug. I told him we needed to
give his parents a little time before we could call over.

The following evening Christopher and I went over to Paul's
house; there were people coming and going. Paul's dad spoke
with Christopher for a few minutes after we had a cup of tea.
Then we said our goodbyes and walked home. As we walked
Christopher said, 'Mum, it felt so strange, Paul not being there;
the house seemed so empty. I will always miss Paul.'

I know those four beautiful angels of Paul's took him
straight to Heaven with his fishing rod and fishing bag tied
onto the back carrier of his bicycle. I know Paul is doing a lot
of fishing in Heaven.

Perhaps six months after Paul's death, on one of those
increasingly rare occasions when Joe was feeling well enough
to get up, Christopher, now aged fifteen, and Joe went into
Dublin to meet an old friend of Joe's in a pub in the city centre.
Christopher told me that the pub was dark and packed, with
lots of noise. Christopher stood close to his dad, as people in
the pub were getting very rowdy. His dad met his friend and
the three of them started to walk back through the crowd to
the door.

Someone pushed someone and a fight started. Christopher
said he was scared. Some men followed them out onto the
street and started to look for a fight: one had a broken bottle in
his hand. Joe told the men they were not looking for a fight,
that he was just meeting a friend, and they kept on walking.
Suddenly, the men started to push them. Christopher said he
was really scared. All of a sudden, he felt the strong presence
of Paul. Christopher told me, 'Mum, I'm sure he was there. It
was as if Paul was there, really there, like you and me. He
pushed those men back and pushed us forward. I could feel
Paul protecting me and Dad. I was never so scared in my life of
those men from the pub, but when I felt Paul's presence I knew
we would be safe.'

I told Christopher to remember that Paul would always be
there when he needed his protection. Many times I have
thought of Paul over the years, and I thank him for protecting
Christopher for me. I thank him for remembering that I asked
him to keep Christopher safe.

Every day when I came back from doing the shopping, I would
take Joe a cup of tea and sit beside him to chat. One day, Joe
had a story to tell me. Joe's guardian angel sat right next to him
and there were lots of angels sitting on the bed, looking in Joe's
direction and waiting to hear what he would say.

'Lorna, you won't believe it,' he said, 'Today, when you were
out, a little child, a spirit, came skipping into the room. She
was about three years old with long, light brown tossed hair.
She looked dirty, as if she had been playing in the mud and had
mud cakes in her hands. She stood right there where you are
sitting and she said, "Dad, play with me." Then she turned
around and skipped out of the room.'

I was delighted, but very surprised! I knew what this meant.
We were going to have another child. We'd always wanted
another child, but Ruth was now about twelve and with Joe's
health it was the last thing I expected. It was a miracle. I
thanked God and my angels.

Joe had never seen a spirit before. It was as if God and the
angels were allowing him to see more, helping him to understand
that he was more than just a body.

I didn't tell Joe straight away that seeing this spirit meant we
would have a new daughter, I just let him bask in the delight
he felt about this beautiful little spirit. 'Why did she call me
Daddy?' he asked in wonder.

I saw this little spirit before I was even pregnant. She was
exactly as Joe had described. On one occasion, I was in the
kitchen making tea for Joe and as I was carrying the tray out
the kitchen door, this little thing, that little girl, skipped out
the door of the dining room. She looked so beautiful, and then
she just disappeared.When I opened the door to the bedroom,
the first thing Joe said was that the little girl had been here
again, calling him Daddy and asking him to play with her.

This time I told Joe what this meant: that God was sending
us another daughter. Joe found this very hard to believe. 'God
would have to pour an awful lot of essential life into me, to let
me father a child. That would need a real miracle!'

But shortly afterwards I discovered I was pregnant.

One day I was standing in front of the mirror. Angels
appeared around me as well as a golden light. Then I saw the
energy of life spinning in my tummy – all colours: emerald
blues, emerald green, emerald red, emerald purple – and the
swirl opened up and I could see the little baby, like a speck of
dust. The sight filled me with emotion and love for my unborn
child.

There was a gap of twelve years since Ruth's birth and the
idea of being pregnant again took some getting used to. I had
given away everything that a mother would need for a baby, so
the angels had a lot of work to do to help – a lot of whispering
in people's ears. But by the time my baby, Megan, was born, I
had everything that was needed for a new baby and I was very
thankful to the angels and all who had listened to them.

Sometimes it is clear to me that the angels have been
working very hard. That Christmas, we had little money again.
One evening just before Christmas, we were sitting at the
kitchen table having dinner when a knock came on the door.
Christopher went to answer it then came back in, helping a
strange man to carry an enormous box.

Christopher introduced the man as Father Tom, one of the
priests at his school. Father Tom said, 'I hope you don't think
that I am intruding on your privacy. The home economics
class agreed that I could give all their Christmas baking to a
family in Maynooth and I heard you could do with it. On
Christmas Eve, I'll be back with a cooked turkey and ham.
Don't worry. No one in the class knows where the food is
going. That's why I came on my own, and I was hoping
Christopher would be here to help me carry the box in.'