Printed in the Conscious Creation Journal
October 1998, Issue 2
Magic & Manifestations
Angels at the Beach
Have you ever experienced a day or moment in time magical and transcending? While caught up in the event you are so focused on the moment, the uniqueness almost eludes you and it is only upon reflection that the full magnitude of what you just experienced hits. The realization of what happened sinks in and you feel awed and a little overwhelmed. The memory stands in your mind, in vivid technicolor, for long, long afterwards. I had just this kind of day.
My spouse took me to the beach to toss me in the ocean, as the coldness of the water tends to be very therapeutic for me. I’ve been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, now in remission, and have found that the coolness of floating in the ocean seems to help keep residual symptoms under control. Not to mention that I love the beach and will use any excuse to be there.
As we settled back into our beach chairs after our first dip in the green water, I saw a mom helping her little girl walk down to the edge of the water. The little girl looked like she had muscular dystrophy, rheumatoid arthritis or something. She was having difficulty walking and her hands curled inwards. I watched them from behind as they struggled past us to the water’s edge. As they approached the ocean, the little girl turned and I saw the most delighted little face. She sat down where the waves lapped at the sand so it would lap up over her and she got the brightest smile you ever saw.
Her mother left her there at the edge of the water and walked back up the beach. I watched her play there for awhile, looking for all the world like a small mermaid and I shared in the pure joy she reflected. Then she got up to struggle back up the sandy incline towards her mother’s blanket. I watched her fall once, but having overheard a bit of conversation between she and her mother, I felt that her mom might have wanted her to try to come back up the beach by herself.
Then she fell again and I noticed the mom was not looking her way at all, so I went over to offer her my hand if she wanted. She looked down shyly and said, “No thank you.” So I knelt down and told her I had offered because sometimes I have trouble walking too. She beamed up at me and said, “You look like my therapist. Want to help me build a sand castle?”
We talked a bit about various things and dug down into the sand with our fingers to get to the wet stuff underneath for the castle. She wistfully said, “I sure wish I had something to dig with.” Just as she said it, I put my hand over into the sand beside us and pulled out a white plastic sand shovel, handing it to her and saying, “Look, here is something you can use.”
It wasn’t until after we left the beach yesterday afternoon that I began to think about that darn sand shovel. You know, it wasn’t there seconds before. I swear it. And I don’t know what made me reach out into the sand to pull it out, just like I knew it would be there. I’ve manifested things in my life often, but rarely with such immediacy and so blatantly. I don’t why the sand shovel should surprise me, but it does.
Then there was the impact that little girl with the big, winning smile made on me. A pretty little thing who seemed to enjoy the hell out of her life. I’m not sure who was the angel in this, myself for magically producing a sand shovel, or her for touching something so deep inside me that I could manifest a sand shovel on the spot. But there was definitely an angel present there – perhaps an angel between us. It was one of those encounters you don’t quickly forget, and one that I will cherish for a long time.
Joann Filomena, New York
Last friday night my spouse and I where on the way to a local gas station. We had been chatting about work and although the radio was off at the time, I had this song called “Sylvia’s Mother” going through my head. It’s from 1972 or 73. I have it on an oldies tape, but otherwise never hear it. David got out to fill the truck with gas. I wanted to listen to the radio while he was doing that, so I turn on the radio and channel surf through the stations, finding nothing I want to listen to. The second time I channel surfed, about 1 minute later I hit the oldies station. For some reason I had skipped that station the first time. I almost went into shock. The song “Sylvia’s Mother” was playing on the radio. I was very suprised. This was the first time that this had happened to me. Even David was suprised.
Karlynn, New York
Yesterday, driving my daughter to the recreation program at school, something flew right into my eye. In an instant, my eye began burning and tearing. I grappled with my bag until I found a tissue, which I quickly put to my eye as I drove. I struggled to see the road as I pulled into the school lot. By this time, both eyes were burning and tearing, and my vision was sorely limited. I found a parking spot and quickly pulled in. The turn I took was too wide, so I backed up. I felt a sudden thump. The woman in the shining white jeep through her arms up in despair. A man in the lot yelled out: “I saw that! I saw what she did. She’s a menace to the road!”
The blood rushed to my head. I jumped from the car to assess the damage. ” I’m sooo sorrrry,” I said. “I have had something in my eye for the entire ride, and it just kept getting worse.” Boy, that sounded lame, I thought.
The damage to the other car’s fender was minimal, but I recognized that it could easily cost a couple of hundred to repair…too little for my insurance to cover. We exchanged the requisite information, and the driver of the jeep decided to phone the police to file a report. All because I had something in my eye, I thought, as I sat waiting while she made her call. Why didn’t I just pull off to the side of the road? I grimaced each time I saw in my mind the angry face of the man in the parking lot.
By the time the officer arrived, Doris and I were becoming acquainted. She shared that her husband had died of cancer only months ago. I told her about my son’s miraculous recovery from colitis. “Do you feel your husband’s presence?” I was compelled to ask. “Do you feel his love still?”
“Well, I believe he’s in heaven now,” she said with a degree of uncertainty. “I know he’s okay…I mean, he’s with God.”
“Pay attention to your feelings,” I continued. “Trust that what you feel is real. It is really only a vibrational change. He may be invisible to you, but he is still here, in another dimension as it were.”
By the time the policeman arrived, we were hugging. To his bemusement, we shared with him our perspectives on the relative insignificance of the incident, and our appreciation of the opportunity to meet one another.
The policeman simply shook his head and shrugged. As he pulled away, I believe I caught a glimpse of a smile on his face.
When I got home, my energy was dragging, as I began to mull over the expense I had just incurred, all due to my own carelessness. I was remembering the bystander’s angry words. Once in my room, I felt a tug in my heart to go to the bookshelf. I listened within as I was prompted to pull a particular book from the shelf, one that I had received from a stranger in the mail. The title, “Take Charge of Your Life,” had struck me as glaringly unimaginative, and I had never even opened its covers. Now, it called out to me. I quickly opened to a random page. What I read completely astonished me. It was a passage about car accidents and their effect on the emotions. The message was clear: Restore your vibration to LOVE and HARMONY without delay, rather than use the event as a reason to sink into negativity.
“Okay,” I said aloud, figuring I better listen, since the delivery of the message had been so neatly orchestrated. “I hear you.”
An hour later, I sat in a cafe, telling my friend what had occurred. On my way to the door, my eyes met those of a now familiar face. It was the woman whose car I had hit this morning. We embraced long and held each other tightly, astounded that we met again so soon.
“Please don’t worry anymore, she said. ” I don’t want you to be upset. God bless you. You are so dear.”
“I won’t,” I promised.
We exchanged a lengthy, heartfelt embrace.
“It seems to me,” I whispered, with a mischievous smile, “we are both crazy”….and I then had to laugh, adding, “Or…you know, it just may be…that we are both VERY, VERY sane.”
A week has passed since that enchanting exchange, and today I received some rather astonishing news. It turns out that to the mechanic’s complete amazement, before he could make the repair, the intense heat of the last few days caused the dent to “bump out” and repair itself. HA! Sounds like angelic intervention to me. Ahhh…the power of love.
Isn’t life grand when you open up to what the heart knows?
The grocery store at which John and I usually shop didn’t carry this one special kind of macaroni in the shape of large shells. On our last shopping trip, we were in the pasta isle and both decided that it would be nice if they carried the shells because we’d just made a lasagna last week, and were looking for something different. John felt drawn towards one part of the shelf and as I joined him there, we both saw it. Just ONE box of large shells, in the middle of boxes of OTHER kinds of pasta, and it was marked down in price! I guess this is what happens when you don’t listen to the voice of limitation! <grin>
Kristen Fox and John McNally