Anthony and his Angels
I love Oprah Winfrey. I love her because she seeks to inspire. And today she did. The show details are here.
Young Anthony's father slaughtered his wife, Anthony's mother, with a butcher knife and then attempted to kill 8 year old Anthony in the same horrific way. He almost succeeded, except that Anthony played dead after multiple stab wounds. When his father left the room -- Anthony, who was bleeding and dying, called 911. He feigned death again when his father walked back in the room.
Today Anthony lives and his father is in prison.
Oprah asked him -- "How did you know to play dead?" He replied "The angels told me." She said "you mean angels talked to you? You could hear them?" "Oh yes, " he said.
Then she said "And how were you able to call 911? You had been badly wounded, and you were away from where the phone was."
He looked at her straight in the eyes and said matter-of-factly, "The angels. They lifted me up."
You can read more about this at the above link, but I felt like my inner spiritual bells all started chiming at once when Anthony said in such an ordinary tone -- "The angels. They lifted me up."
I started to cry. Not because I felt sad, and not just from my feelings of being moved by Anthony. I cried because I realized that is why I am alive today. "The angels. They lifted me up."
And who are my angels? Everyone in my life who ever loved me or helped me or was kind to me. Everyone who showed me compassion or wisdom or who kicked me out of a rut.
I think so often we are called to be angels to each other. There are special moments that God annoints us with just what some other person needs, exactly what will heal or help. The holy moment passes. But in that second of luminosity we get to decide if we will "take wings" for someone else. In that second we are as real as the angels that lifted Anthony.
Bless all of you who have been angels. When I look back over my life, and listen carefully, I can hear the sound of wingbeats.