Guardian Angels

"That sounds kind of like what happened to me last year," my eight year old son, Russell, burst out before he thought about what he was saying.

"What does?" Holly and Linnea wanted to know immediately.  We were reading "The Last Battle" from the Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis. 

"Well, it kind of reminds me of something I saw outside your door one night, mom," Russell spoke to me, ignoring his big sisters.

I could tell Russell was embarrassed, now, so I tried to stop Linnea and Holly from teasing him.  "What happened," I coaxed him quietly.

"Well, it was one night last year," he told me.  "I was kind of scared, so I got up to come into your bedroom, but I saw angels guarding your door so I turned around and went back to my bedroom."

"Why didn't you tell me about it?" I asked, surprised. 

"I thought you might laugh at me," Russell admitted, "and then I forgot about it." 

"How did it make you feel?" I asked, hoping I could get him to tell me a little more about his experience.

"Kind of scared," he told me, "but it also made me feel safe because I knew they were there, taking care of us."

I was amazed, and impressed.  "Maybe Heavenly Father let you see them to help you not be frightened anymore," I told Russell. 

"Oh, come on, mom," Holly said in exasperation.  "You don't really think he saw angels, do you?"

"Of course I do, " I told her sternly.  "I know my guardian angel watches over me all the time, and the Bishop mentioned angels who guard our home in a blessing he gave me a few years ago.  So of course I think he saw real angels.  I just wish I could see them some time," I sighed.  "But I guess I don't need to see them to know they are here."

The Pattern of Love

The Pattern of Love

Every year at Christmas time, our Service Club takes the children from poor families in our town on a personally conducted shopping tour.  I was assigned Timmy and Billy, whose father was out of work.  After giving them the allotted $4.00 each, we began our trip.  At different stores I made suggestions, but always their answer was a solemn shake of the head, no.  Finally I asked, “Where would you suggest we look?”

“Could we go to a shoe store, Sir?” answered Timmy.  “We’d like a pair of shoes for our Daddy so he can go to work.”

In the shoe store the clerk asked what the boys wanted.  Out came the brown paper. 

“We want a pair of work shoes to fit this foot,” they said.

Billy explained that it was a pattern of their Daddy’s foot.  They had drawn it while he was asleep in a chair. 

The clerk held the paper against a measuring stick, than walked away.  Soon, he came back with an open box.  “Will these do?” he asked.

Timmy and Billy handled the shoes with great eagerness.  “How much do they cost?” asked Billy.  Then Timmy saw the price on the box. 

“They’re $16.95,” he said in dismay.  “We only have $8.00.” 

I looked at the clerk and he cleared his throat.  “that’s the regular price,” he said, “but they’re on sale;  $3.98, today only.”

Then with the shoes happily in hand the boys bought gifts for their mother and two little sisters.  Not once did they think of themselves.

The day after Christmas the boys’ father stopped me on the street.  The new shoes were on his feet, gratitude was in his eyes.  “I just thank Jesus for people who care,” he said.

“And I thank Jesus for your two sons,” I replied.  “They taught me more about Christmas in one evening than I learned in a lifetime.”