The Best Angel Stories
Brand: Red Wheel
Categories: Books, Christian Books & Bibles, Theology



Dimensions: 7 x 0.5 x 9 inches
ISBN-13: 978-1573246774
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1573246778
Publisher: Red Wheel
Print length: 288 pages
Publication date: September 1, 2015
subtitle: Paperback – September 1, 2015
author: The Editors of Guideposts
review: Editorial Reviews About the Author Guideposts is a Christian faith based nonprofit organization founded in 1945 by Dr. Norman Vincent Peale, Raymond Thornburg, and Peale's wife, Ruth Stafford Peale. Today, it is a magazine with a monthly circulation of over 1 million. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. The Best Angel Stories By Guidepos Red Wheel/Weiser, LLC Copyright © 2013 Guideposts All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-57324-677-4 Contents Introduction, Chapter 1 Shielded by Their Wings, Chapter 2 Messengers of Love, Chapter 3 Glimpses of Heaven, Chapter 4 Mysterious Knowings, Chapter 5 Touched through Time, Chapter 6 Animal Angels, Special Section Children and Angels, Acknowledgments, continued from copyright page, CHAPTER 1 Shielded by Their Wings Our Evening Walk Donna Griffith Mom and I always relied on one another. I worked at a fast food restaurant, but before and after my shifts she served me the best home-cooked breakfasts and dinners a girl could want. Plus she gave expert foot rubs, which came in handy. But most of all I looked forward to our evening walks. One evening we walked down the road to the first major intersection. "Look both ways before you cross," Mom said. "Always the mother hen," I replied. Always trying to take care of me. Just like I'm always trying to take care of her. Lord, I wish we had someone to take care of both of us. There weren't any cars coming, so we stepped into the crosswalk. Halfway across the street I heard screeching wheels. A late-model sedan was barreling right for us. There was no time to run. "Jesus," I mumbled, braced for impact. That's when I felt them: two strong hands on my upper arms. The car was so close I could make out specks of dirt on the shiny front grille. But the second before a collision happened, I was lifted into the air. I felt a rush of wind as the car passed me. Somehow I had been taken out of harm's way just in time. The next thing I knew I was sitting on the sidewalk across the street, the cool concrete under my palms. Mom! I expected to see her lying injured in the road. But she wasn't there. Mom sat a few feet away from me. "Are you all right?" she asked. "Yes," I said. "How are you?" She sat up straight, and took a big stretch. "I feel fine, thanks to that man," she said. "What man?" I asked. "The man who picked me up and carried me over here just as the front of that car brushed past me. How on earth did you get out of the way in time?" "The man who helped you must have had a friend." We looked around in either direction for our saviors, but there was no one in sight. I was unsure about exactly what had happened, but I'd never felt so cared for, so safe and secure, either. Maybe there was someone else Mom and I could rely on. Times are easier now. Mom and I still take our evening walk. And our angels walk with us. Angels in Blue Jeans Joan Wester Anderson The pre-Christmas snowstorm had blanketed a wide patch of rural eastern Pennsylvania, and Chris Clark Davidson probably should have waited until the roads were plowed before she, her mother, and her two small sons attempted a drive. But Chris's grandmother lived alone more than a hundred miles away, and couldn't get out to buy groceries. "We'll be fine," Chris reassured her mother. "We'll take that shortcut we use all summer." They found the shortcut and turned onto it. Chris had forgotten how narrow the road was, especially with drifts piled high and wind blowing snow across the fields. Usually chatting on previous drives, neither woman had noticed how deserted the area was. When another vehicle roared around a curve, Chris swerved and skidded into a snow bank. The other car kept going. The wheels spun uselessly as she tried to pull out. "Mommy, are we stuck?" Phillip, her toddler, asked from under his blanket in the backseat. "Looks that way, honey," Chris admitted. They had only seen that one car since they'd turned onto the shortcut. How long would it be before someone came along? How long before the freezing temperature invaded the car's interior? And why, oh why, had she worn sandals and pantyhose instead of warm boots? Chris got out, her feet plunging into a high snow drift, and she looked around. Lord, please send us some help, she prayed. Then she saw it — a silo and barn roof peeking up from the hills, about a quarter-mile away. "Mom," Chris leaned in the car, "I'll walk down to that barn and see if anyone's there. Keep the kids warm." The journey was incredibly cold, and by the time Chris pushed open the barn door, her feet were icy. A welcome blast of heat greeted her, along with the mooing of heifers in their stalls. It was a working dairy, clean and well organized, with a shiny window fan circulating the air. Even better, Chris heard young male voices behind a stall. Maneuvering around fresh manure, she followed the sound and came upon two farmhands in overalls and flannel shirts, kidding and teasing each other. They stopped and smiled when they saw her, and she quickly explained the situation. "Stay here!" one said, tramping past the cows and out the door. A few moments later, Chris heard a horn honking in front of the barn. There he was, driving a blue pickup truck. "Get in!" he shouted. Chris hesitated. She didn't know these men. And yet there was something so merry about them that she couldn't feel afraid. She and the other farmhand scrambled into the pickup and bounced down the road. There was the car, her toddlers bundled up and Mom waving. The driver roared across the field, spun in a wide circle and screeched into position in front of it. "Way to go!" his buddy yelled. Chris gripped the seat. "Do you always drive like this?" she asked, only half- joking. The driver shrugged. "Well, it ain't our truck." Within minutes, the men had freed Chris's car, and she opened her purse to reward them. But both backed away. "It was our pleasure, ma'am. Just drive safely." You mean, not like you? Chris thought to herself, grinning as she pulled away. What wonderful guys. Chris didn't realize just how wonderful until two weeks later when she and her mother decided to make a return visit to her grandmother. Since the snow was almost melted now, the shortcut was safer. Soon the silo and barn roof came into view. "Let's stop and let the guys know we made it to Grandma's that day," Chris suggested. But when they pulled up in front of the barn where Chris had climbed into the blue truck, she could hardly believe her eyes. For the barn was vacant, shabby, with paint peeling and door hinges hanging loose. Bewildered, Chris wiped away a heavy film of dirt and cobwebs on the milk house window and peered inside. Where were the heifers? Where were the floors littered with fresh manure? Even the fan was rusty. "You couldn't have seen any farmhands or cattle there," the woman at the next house told Chris when she went to inquire. "No one's worked that property for years." Chris got in the car. "Am I crazy, Mom?" she asked. "No." Her mother was firm. "This is definitely the place." Then how ...? Suddenly Chris understood, and like the shepherds at that first Christmas, she was filled with awe. Her angels had worn blue jeans instead of white robes. But they had delivered the same timeless message to her and to anyone willing to listen: Fear not. The Savior is here, and He cares about you. Hallelujah! Rescue in the Rapids Jennifer Kelly We lounged on inner tubes, floating lazily down the river. It was August and some co-workers had invited me along on a weekend getaway, tubing Wisconsin's Apple River. The river was a hugely popular tubing spot. Already, only a few minutes after we'd entered the water, other tubers were joining our flotilla. At least twenty of us drifted in the gentle current, our tubes lashed together with thick twine. We talked, ate and drank, and watched the wooded banks glide by. It was the first time I'd relaxed in months. All of a sudden everything had changed in my life. I'd moved to a new town in Wisconsin, gotten a new job and broken up with a guy I'd been dating for seven years. When people I worked with asked if I wanted to go tubing, I said yes. I wasn't much of an outdoors person, but I'd been so lonely lately and this was my chance to make some new friends. I hoped I could handle the rapids. So far all had gone well. We'd arrived Friday afternoon — and we had enough time to try a test run down the river. The weekend crowds were just trickling in so the river was calm and quiet. Even the rapids I'd worried about had turned out to be fun. They were shallow and not too fast. The tubes swooped and bounced over rocks and waves. As long as you held on you were fine. Today was Saturday and it was like a different river. A traffic jam of tubes clogged the water. Total strangers bumped into us, and before we knew it they were tied onto our tubes like they'd known us forever. I couldn't help noticing one handsome guy who tied onto my tube near the back of the flotilla. He looked just about my age, mid-twenties, with dark, close-cut hair and a tank top that showed off tan, muscled arms. I tried a few times to talk to him but he didn't seem interested in conversation. He was never rude. Just seemed to want to be by himself. I had others to talk to. The ride down the river lasted four hours. The rapids came just before the end. Soon, in the distance, we heard the loud rush of swirling water. "Rapids up ahead!" someone called out. "Bathroom break." We paddled the flotilla to a bank lined with portable toilets. I was one of the last to go, and when I came back I saw someone had taken my tube. I didn't mind. We didn't have far to go. I jumped onto the cooler tube, a smaller inner tube they give you at the rental shop for carrying an ice chest. Someone had put the ice chest on their own tube so the cooler tube was free. I'm small so I fit fine. I looked for the handsome guy. He was still in his tube not far away. We pushed back out into the river. I noticed that with so many tubes tied together we were floating much faster than we had the day before. I looked at my little cooler tube. My legs and arms hung way outside. All it would take was one good bounce on those rapids and I'd be in the water. Small waves formed atop the current. The riverbank whizzed past then rose into steep cliffs. I saw white water in the distance and felt the flotilla drift to one side, following the flow of the river. We swung around until my little tube was closest to the bank. All of a sudden I saw something large and white speeding toward me. It was some kind of plastic culvert embedded in the embankment. I gripped my tube as it struck the culvert, bending like a bicycle tire rammed into a curb. Before I knew it I was hurled into the air and landed face first in the water. The flotilla shot down the rapids. I felt a sharp pain in my left bicep and realized somehow the twine lashing my tube to the other tubes had gotten wrapped around my arm. I was dragged through the water, slamming against rocks, unable to get my head up. The twine kept me trapped against the tube. I was in shock. I knew my body was taking a terrible beating but I couldn't feel a thing. I remembered the day before it had taken about ten minutes to get through the rapids. No way could I hold my breath that long. I heaved as hard as I could and barely got my head up to take a gulp of air. Then I was slammed down again. No one, I figured, had seen me go under. They'd be looking down river. Don't panic, Jennifer. If I thrashed around I'd just use up more oxygen. It doesn't matter, I thought. I had no more strength to lift my head. I was about to suffocate. I was going to die. Suddenly in my mind's eye — or did I open my eyes? — I saw surrounding me a circle of faces. The faces were calm, encouraging. They didn't say anything and I didn't recognize any of them. But I knew they were real. I relaxed. I feared nothing. The next moment I felt a powerful grip on my right arm and I was hauled out of the water. The dark-haired man I'd seen earlier was standing beside me, his hand clamped to my arm. He'd jumped off his tube and somehow planted his feet on the rocky bottom. My arm was still tangled in the twine. The flotilla jerked to a halt, tugging me with unbearable force. My head went under the water. Vaguely I heard the man shouting. People began jumping off their tubes, trying to push the flotilla to shore. The man must have realized there was no time. He let go my arm, grabbed the wet twine — it was at least an inch-and-a-half thick — and ripped it apart. The flotilla spun away. The man lifted me from the water and I wrapped my arms around his neck. "Oh my God! Thank you!" I coughed. He sloshed his way to the riverbank and set me down. "What's your name?" I asked. But before I could say more my new friends were around me with frightened faces. I strained to see the dark-haired man. I thought I glimpsed him walking away. Then he was gone. I never saw the man again. I searched the shore, asked everyone on the bus back to the camping area and scoured the campground itself. No one had seen him. No one knew who he was. By that point I was feeling every one of those rocks that had bashed into me. I lay in my tent thinking about the man. Not just because he'd saved my life. But because in some strange way that awful moment beneath the water — those calm faces, that strong grip on my arm — reassured me that no matter how lonely I might ever feel, I would never truly be alone. That man was my guardian angel. His strong, silent strength will be with me always. Snow Rescue Katherine Ruhlman Skiing was all I had on my mind. There was nothing I liked more than grabbing my cross-country skis on a sunny winter day and leaving everything else behind. I drove out to the local nature preserve. There was real freedom in being out there alone, just me, the snow, and the sky. The day was so beautiful, I stayed out way later than I should have. How can I go back to my day-to-day life when I have all of this? I thought as I whizzed down a small slope. The sky darkened, and the wind picked up. Better get home before it really starts snowing. I was only about a half hour from my car. The flakes were coming down faster and faster as I moved down the trail back to the parking lot. Soon I could barely see ten feet in front of me. I left the trail and headed in a straight line down the sloping hill. I zoomed along until it got too dense, dark, and snowy to keep going safely at that pace. "Oh, God," I croaked. "It's going to be a whiteout." Gusts of wind pelted my face with snow. I pulled my coat tightly around me and tied my scarf around my head. I groped behind me trying to find the trail, but all I saw around me was snow, snow, and more snow. Now I didn't know which end was up. I got down on one knee. Lord, please help me not to panic. I stood up, picked a direction, and tried to make my way back toward the parking lot. I could only hope it was the right way. Time seemed to pass slower as I got more and more worried. How do you know you're even going in the right direction? I asked myself. What if you're going the wrong way? My glorious afternoon had turned into a real nightmare. I toppled into a snowbank. "Help me, God," I cried. "Don't let me die here!" I pushed myself back onto my feet. It was hard to even stand against the violent gusts. I pushed on. "Give me strength, God," I said. It was pitch black outside. My body was failing. I wanted to sleep, but that would be deadly. I fell into another snowbank. This time, I didn't have the strength to pull myself up. I struggled helplessly against the dense snow. "Please, God," I begged. "This is as far as I can go." Suddenly, I heard a crunching sound in the distance. I pulled myself up as far as I could. "Hello!" I called. "Hello! Can you hear me?" Out of the darkness skied a young man. "Ski over to that tree and make a left," he said, helping me up. "There's a small rangers' shed. You can warm up inside." I looked to where he was pointing and saw the little shack. He gripped my arm. "When the storm lets up, follow that trail behind the house back to the parking lot. Go! Now!" With that, he skied off down the mountain. I pushed my way to the shed and let myself in. I sat down and warmed up by the heating vent. I checked myself for frostbite. Everything seemed okay. I closed my eyes and waited. It was almost midnight by the time the snow slowed to a gentle flurry. Sure enough, the path was where the young man had told me it would be. I skied past the spot where I'd collapsed and found the imprint in the snow where I'd almost met my end. I could see my tracks still in the snow, too, heading over the shed. But when I looked down the path in the direction the young man had gone, I couldn't see any ski tracks at all. Just fresh fallen snow. But how ...? I wondered. I had no answer. I followed the trail and found my car. I started the engine, turned the heat on high, and took off my gear. I laid my head on the steering wheel, still in shock over my miraculous rescue. I knew if that young man hadn't helped me, I wouldn't be sitting there feeling the heat from the car. Only You could have done this, I prayed to God. Thank You. To this day, whenever I see a blizzard anywhere I'm reminded to lift my eyes and whisper, "Thank you." I still love leaving it all behind to go skiing. But the one thing I never leave behind is God. And I know He never leaves me either. Not even in the worst of snowstorms. (Continues...) Excerpted from The Best Angel Stories by Guidepos . Copyright © 2013 Guideposts. Excerpted by permission of Red Wheel/Weiser, LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.