Angels abound

In 1979, someone broke into my apartment.  They took nothing.  They came more than once — in fact, three or four times before I realized what was happening.

Call me crazy.  But I would come home from work or class to find a record playing on the turntable.  I would rise from sleep to discover all of the framed pictures had been placed face down.  The back door would be standing open to the interior hallway of the four-family flat when I came into the kitchen in the morning.

My father changed the locks, just in case a prior tenant still had a key.  I reported the issue to my landlord, who gave me a funny look and asked, Was anything stolen?  Did you hear anything?  See anything?

No, no, and no.  He took no action.  I did not blame him.

One night, deep in sleep, I saw a figure standing over me.  The figure spoke:  There is a man in the apartment. Awaken!  Awaken!  I struggled to consciousness; the figure faded.  I saw a shadow in the dining room and screamed.  I dialed the police and my upstairs neighbor, the latter of whom came thundering down the back stairs.

He discovered the kitchen door to my apartment and the back door to the building both wide open.

I never figured out what was happening, but neither did I have another visit from whomever it was.

Five years later, my mother told me that she had been visited by an angel who told her, gently, that she had one year to live.  I’m okay with that, she said, in a quiet voice, as we walked in her garden.  I asked her what the angel looked like.  She described a figure exactly like the one who had come to warn me of the intruder, in my apartment, in 1979.

My life has been filled with strange occurrences, and I’ve often been considered slightly whackadoodle.  But I’m not complaining, either about the weird things that have happened to me or the reaction that others have had to my reports of those odd encounters.  I have no doubt that angels abound in my life, and I’m grateful for that more and more each day.  Some of those angels doubtless have no corporal existence; others walk, talk, breathe, and smile at me everywhere I go.

I had a pity party earlier this weekend, but I’m over it now at least for the present.  Once in a while, a relapse occurs but I gather myself and spend time in the company of one of my angels.  This time, it was my friend Vivian Leahy.

All of my angels, human and spiritual, have guided me on the rocky path as I forge ahead on this journey of mine.  I don’t know if I will attain my goal of learning to live without complaining but I certainly would have not one whit of a chance without the angels around me.

My friend Vivian Leahy at the March 2015 art opening at Suite 100.

My friend Vivian Leahy at the March 2015 art opening at Suite 100.

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