When I was a tot, someone gave me a gift of a little angel. My mom put it on my bedroom shelf. On my fifth birthday an angel figurine with the word "June" written on the base joined her. The angel was holding a rose, and its pink cheeks and sweet, round eyes enchanted me. Soon after that, a family friend gave me an angel holding a candle that actually lit up. These meager few formed the beginning of my childhood angel collection. I never decided on angels. It seems they chose me. For birthdays, Christmases, and especially my First Communion, more and more angels flew into my life, filling the designated shelf in my room. Often, I would take them down and play with them like dolls. I loved my angels.
But as life tends to go, girls who play with angels become teenagers with better things to do. I wasn't sure I actually believed in angels, plus I wanted a cooler collection. I decided on flamingos, and pretty soon, I had stuffed flamingos, flamingo party lights, flamingo drinking glasses, and flamingo Christmas tree ornaments. While I would receive an angel now and then, my childhood collection faded into the background. Eventually, I left it behind in my parents' house.
Little did I realize, there was no leaving my angels behind. The real angels, those divine beings of pure love who watch over all of us, have always been with me. My belief in them was destined to be resurrected one day in 2014. While walking to work, I was a hit by a car. Despite my head hitting the windshield with a resounding crack and being tossed bodily into the air before hitting the pavement, I had no broken bones. My head miraculously landed on the soft, cloth bag I brought to work every day containing my lunch and book to read. The doctor declared the cut above my eye to be so clean and well-placed that, after my stitches came out, there would be no visible scar. Nurses and technicians alike said it was a miracle I was not in worse shape. I knew these remarkable coincidences could not be random chance. I knew there had to have been an unseen hand protecting me. I soon made a full recovery, but the accident shifted the direction of my life. For one thing, I believed in the real presence of angels in the world.
Since then, I've realized that my angel collection is real. Angels have always been with me. Despite the fact that life and its ups and downs must happen, angels can make things easier. They can offer protection, guidance, and love along the bumpy road of being human. Since that fateful day I've been learning to go inward and listen to their loving guidance. I realize there is far more to these beings of light than I ever thought possible.
Earlier this year I took an intuitive development course from a friend of mine. During the class when the students gave each other intuitive readings, my classmate said, "You have a huge number of angels around you." I smiled with a warm internal knowing that this was indeed the truth. I walk through life with a collection of angels all around me. We all do. And yes, I still collect angels.