Today is the Memorial of the Guardian Angels, and I have a story to tell you. It might sound crazy, but I promise it’s true.
One night when I was a little girl I awoke from a terrible nightmare. I had dreamed that the Sandman was standing next to my bed, wanting to suck my breath away. I can still remember what he looked like—a monster made from sand, his body continuously falling apart and remaking itself. The black holes where his eyes and mouth should have collapsed and re-opened as the sand shifted. The evil that poured out of him was stifling.
I woke from the dream frozen with fear. I was certain that the Sandman still stood at my bedside. A perfectly logical child, I decided that I would trick the Sandman into believing I was already dead so he wouldn’t have to bother with killing me. I lay on my side, a tense, terrified little girl trying not to cry or breathe. I faced the wall and looked up at the Rosary that hung above my bed, and I prayed. I prayed and I prayed.
And then out of the darkness above my body came a white, translucent hand. It touched the tip of my shoulder and on that spot I felt a warmth travel through my body like a ripple over still water. As it spread, my muscles relaxed and my fear dissipated. By the time it reached the tips of my toes I was fine. The monster was gone, and I slept peacefully. I knew it was my Guardian Angel.
These many years since I have carried that experience with me, serving as a reminder of who is at my side, ready to come to my aid. When I am driving around completely lost, I call on my Guardian Angel to help me find my destination. When I am emotionally overwhelmed and I don’t know how to pray, I call on my Guardian Angel to pray with, for, and over me. When my husband is out of town and I lie in bed figuring out how I will save all seven of my children in case of a house fire, intruder, or the zombie apocalypse, I remember that hand that has brought me so much peace.
God in His Goodness has given us each a Guardian Angel. They protect us from the prowling devil and they guide us towards God. And sometimes they bring comfort to very scared little girls. Thanks be to God.
Bonnie Engstrom is a writer, baker, speaker, and homemaker. She, her husband, and six children live in central Illinois, and her son’s alleged miraculous healing through the intercession of Venerable Fulton Sheen was submitted to the Vatican for Sheen’s beatification. Bonnie pretends she has a green thumb, bakes a fantastic chocolate chip cookie, loves naps and chai tea, and blogs. You can find out more about her here.