| October Featured Article |
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| I Call My Angel, "Angel" by Margaret A. Marshall As the day ended, I sat down on my bed and noticed a card on the night stand. I wondered, when did I put it there? I picked it up and read a quote by St. Francis de Sales: “Make yourself familiar with the angels, and behold them frequently in spirit; for without being seen, they are present with you.” The day had started with a Mass dedicated to three Archangels: Michael, Raphael and Gabriel. I asked my priest, Father Mike, “What about Uriel?” “I think he may be a mythological angel,” he answered. I wondered where the name came from so I decided to do a little research as Father Mike had suggested. I remembered the book of angel artwork I purchased in Hawaii, ANGELS, by Marco Bussagli. The book had brought attention to the scanner who saw, buried in my luggage, a sharp shiny object-- a golden-colored book, small but thick with pages (780). I looked up “Uriel” in the index—it was there. I read the pages where I discovered that Catholics only recognize Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael as archangels but the Eastern Orthodox Church adds Uriel to the list. I also learned that a priest and music teacher, Antonio Del Duca had the idea of transforming the ruins of Diocletian Baths in Rome into a church dedicated to seven archangels: Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, Jegudiel, Selaphiel, and Barachiel. Every morning I include in my prayers: “Angels in heaven guide my path. In His goodness, God gave you to me—to guide, protect and enlighten me. Encourage me when I am disheartened Instruct me when I err in judgment. Help me to be more Christ- like so I may join the angels and saints in heaven. Amen.” I’ve always believed that angels exist. Living on a farm in the 1950’s brought many duties to a child. One of which was to bring the cows to the barn for milking. I can remember several experiences in my duties to gather the cows. Many of the times, the cows roamed the wooded area. I walked the clay road until I reached the bridge on the bottom of the hill. After crossing the creek, I continued up the next hill and down the road until I entered the woods. Our farm dog, named Bronco, walked alongside me to help with the chore. Sometimes I sang. One particular song still rings in my ears, “Dear Angel ever at my side, how loving must thou be—to leave your home in heaven—to guide a little child like me. How beautiful thy shining face, I see not though so near. The sweetness of thy soft low voice, I am to deaf to hear.” One day, my brother let the bull out with the cows, but must have forgotten about it when he sent me for the animals. I don’t remember what happened to Bronco, but the bull began to bellow as he headed my direction. My heart beat faster and faster as I ran. Enlightened, I approached a brush pile and hid from the bull where I encountered protection.As I grew older, I experienced many close calls, especially while driving—almost being crashed into by freight trains, rolling my vehicle, and another incident which particularly stands out in my mind. After I purchased my new small SUV, I was driving on the interstate early one Sunday morning in the late fall, the roads still slippery from the night before, when the vehicle in front of me suddenly slowed down for a piece of cardboard blowing by. I stepped on the brake to avoid hitting that car when my vehicle began to cross into another lane. I didn’t look behind to see if a vehicle was heading my way, I just pulled onto the exit and found a place to park, praying, “Thank you guardian angel for your protection!” Another incident which I recall, I actually stopped fighting for my life and accepted what was going to happen to me. I had struggled, trying to break away from the man who had me pinned against the kitchen cupboard as he grabbed my neck, began to squeeze and wouldn’t let go. After I put my life in God’s and His helper’s hands, the man loosened his grip. Some believe angels are mythological; some believe they know their names; and some believe they roam the world. I’ve always believed I have an angel at my side. I don’t call my angel by a name. I just call my angel, "Angel". |
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