Guardian Angel Sayings And Quotes

I don't believe in guardian angels," Regine says seriously. "Just people who are there for you and people who aren't.

To those who believe the dead do not visit them, I say you have cataracts in your soul. I am a man of science, yet I believe in guardian angels and the haunting by ghosts.

The identity badge pinned to Sandrine's white tunic says, "Speech Therapist," but it should read "Guardian Angel.

Miranda: You say you were my guardian angel. Does that mean you watched me all the time? Like when I got my period or doctored a zit or took a shower or- Zachary: I'm an angel, not a Peeping Tom.

The identity badge pinned to Sandrine's white tunic says "Speech Therapist," but it should read "Guardian Angel.

But at the time of transition, your guides, your guardian angels, people whom you have loved and who have passed on before you, will be there to help you. We have verified this beyond a shadow of a doubt, and I say this as a scientist. There will always be someone to help you with this transition.

He sounds so tired. "I know if there was any choice at all, they wouldn't have left me alone. They would have made sure I was taken care of." In a heartbeat, a thousand memories at once. All the times I knew things I couldn't have known. All the times he was assigned to me. "Julian," I say, "maybe they did.

Sitting in front of my fireplace, basking in it's warm glow gives me time to reflect upon the sacrifices that it has taken for me to enjoy the security of a good home, in a safe environment. I can hear the soft whisper of the snow as it caresses my window and covers the ground outside in a scintillating display of sparkling lights under the full moon. How many times have our service men and women watched this same scene from a foxhole, or camped in some remote part of the world. Thankful for the silence of that moment, knowing it won’t last long. Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He/she dresses in fatigues and patrols the world restlessly, ensuring that we can have this peaceful night. Every day they give us the gift of this lifestyle that we enjoy, and every night they watch over us. They are warriors, angels, guardians, friends, brothers, fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers, forming a family that stretches back to the beginning of the country. So tonight when you go to bed say a prayer that God watch over those who watch over us, and thank them for their sacrifices, on and off the battlefield. Pray that they have a peaceful night, and will be home soon with their families who also share their burden. Without them we would not have this moment.

One of the hardest things you will ever have to go through is the death of a child. The second hardest thing you will ever have to go through is having a child die at Christmas time. The third hardest thing you will ever have to go through is telling your child that their friend and family member has passed away. The bittersweet moment that pulls you through it all is when your child says, "Mom don't cry. They're okay because they are with God now and they promise not to leave until they help you get through this.

Death is really a matter of perspective. So many people say "sorry for your loss" when a special one dies, but I don't see it as a loss. You don't lose the person at all, you gain a guardian angel that will stay with you and watch over you and their loved ones for life.

He jokingly thought that this guy fancied himself some kind of Jedi knight, waiting for him to say, 'these are not the droids you're looking for.

God works in mysterious ways his wonders to perform, as Reenie used to say. Could it be that Myra is my designated guardian angel? Or is she instead a foretaste of Purgatory? And how do you tell the difference?

I don’t believe in guardian angels,” Regine says seriously. “Just people who are there for you and people who aren’t.

This is what I mean..." I say softly, "you don't seem very angel-y right now" "I'm not feeling very angel-y right now", he reply

Once upon a time there was a woman, and she was wicked as wicked could be, and she died. And not one good deed was left behind her. The devils took her and threw her into the lake of fire. And her guardian angel stood thinking: what good deed of hers can I remember to tell God? Then he remembered and said to God: once she pulled up an onion and gave it to a beggar woman. And God answered: take now that same onion, hold it out to her in the lake, let her take hold of it and pull, and if you pull her out of the lake, she can go to paradise. The angel ran to the woman and held out the onion to her: here, woman, he said, take hold of it and I’ll pull. And he began pulling carefully, and had almost pulled her all of the way out, when other sinners in the lake saw her being pulled out and all began holding on to her so as to be pulled out with her. But the woman was wicked as wicked could be, and she began to kick them with her feet: ‘It’s me who’s getting pulled out, not you; it’s my onion, not yours.’ No sooner did she say it than the onion broke. And the woman fell back into the lake and is burning there to this day. And the angel wept and went away

Vane, you okay in there?” my mom calls through my door. I jump so hard I crash into my desk and knock off some books and video game cases. If my mom comes in and finds a gorgeous girl in a skimpy dress passed out on my worn gray rug, I’ll be grounded for the rest of eternity. Especially since all I have on at the moment are my Batman boxers. Pretty sure she won’t buy my ghost-guardian angel/freak-of-nature theories either. I stumble toward the door, prepared to barricade it with my dresser if I have to. “I’m fine, Mom,” I say as I grab the first T-shirt I see off my floor and throw it on, along with my gym shorts. “Then what’s all that banging?” Come on, Vane. Think! Inspiration strikes. “I found a date roach in my bed.” “Did you kill it?” My mom sounds farther away, like she jumped back. “I tried to, but now I can’t find it.” I don’t need to worry about my mom offering to help. She’s a big believer in the whole boys should kill all the bugs philosophy. “Well, I won’t distract you, then,” she says, and I can’t help smiling.

Tatyana’s Letter to Onegin I’m writing you this declaration— What more can I in candour say? It may be now your inclination To scorn me and to turn away; But if my hapless situation Evokes some pity for my woe, You won’t abandon me, I know. I first tried silence and evasion; Believe me, you‘d have never learned My secret shame, had I discerned The slightest hope that on occasion— But once a week—I’d see your face, Behold you at our country place, Might hear you speak a friendly greeting, Could say a word to you; and then, Could dream both day and night again Of but one thing, till our next meeting. They say you like to be alone And find the country unappealing; We lack, I know, a worldly tone, But still, we welcome you with feeling. Why did you ever come to call? In this forgotten country dwelling I’d not have known you then at all, Nor known this bitter heartache’s swelling. Perhaps, when time had helped in quelling The girlish hopes on which I fed, I might have found (who knows?) another And been a faithful wife and mother, Contented with the life I led. Another! No! In all creation There’s no one else whom I’d adore; The heavens chose my destination And made me thine for evermore! My life till now has been a token In pledge of meeting you, my friend; And in your coming, God has spoken, You‘ll be my guardian till the end…. You filled my dreams and sweetest trances; As yet unseen, and yet so dear, You stirred me with your wondrous glances, Your voice within my soul rang clear…. And then the dream came true for me! When you came in, I seemed to waken, I turned to flame, I felt all shaken, And in my heart I cried: It’s he! And was it you I heard replying Amid the stillness of the night, Or when I helped the poor and dying, Or turned to heaven, softly crying, And said a prayer to soothe my plight? And even now, my dearest vision, Did I not see your apparition Flit softly through this lucent night? Was it not you who seemed to hover Above my bed, a gentle lover, To whisper hope and sweet delight? Are you my angel of salvation Or hell’s own demon of temptation? Be kind and send my doubts away; For this may all be mere illusion, The things a simple girl would say, While Fate intends no grand conclusion…. So be it then! Henceforth I place My faith in you and your affection; I plead with tears upon my face And beg you for your kind protection. You cannot know: I’m so alone, There’s no one here to whom I’ve spoken, My mind and will are almost broken, And I must die without a moan. I wait for you … and your decision: Revive my hopes with but a sign, Or halt this heavy dream of mine— Alas, with well-deserved derision! I close. I dare not now reread…. I shrink with shame and fear. But surely, Your honour’s all the pledge I need, And I submit to it securely.

We read you. Talk to us son. What are you seeing?' "Ahhh. Captain I don't need a light anymore." "Repeat last transmission, you say your light is back on?" "Negative Sir. I don't need a light, I can see. Captain, you said Chado was talking to God?" "Roger that." "Well I believe God is down here right now.

Sometimes we’re persuaded to relinquish control, and when this happens, time becomes more synchronic and coincidence more profound. It’s the same cosmic force, but without so many restrictions. This is when guardian angels can roll up their sleeves to say, ‘Now we’ve got food and shelter done, let’s get to work!

Theosophists refer to the Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel as the Silent Watcher (the reader might here recall the author's suggestion to make self-observation or self-watching a major magickal goal). Another term for It is the Great Master. The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn call It the Genius. Gnostics say the Logos. Zoroaster talks about united all these symbols into the form of a Lion (see Austin Osman Spare's work). Anna Kingsford calls It Adonai (Clothed with the Sun). Buddhists call It Adi-Buddha. The Bhagavad-gītā calls It Vishnu (Krishna is an Avatar of Vishnu). The Yi King calls him The Great Person. The Kabbalah calls It Jechidah.

And as Sean climbs into bed and closes his eyes, Mother comes, riding astride a lion the size of a house, blowing a clarion from a horn made out of a hollowed-out elephant's tusk. Her eyes have a faint crimson glow from the lasers that are mounted behind her irises, ready to fire at will. 'I touched a prince's chest today and made his heart stop,' she says. 'I'll do it again if I have to: they'll see what happens if anyone gets in my way. Good night, my son. Remember that I will always keep you safe; that I am always everywhere and always here.' 'Good night, Mom,' Sean says, and falls asleep. And Mother recedes, wise and beautiful and strong, a genius and a hero, a punisher of thieves and a slayer of wicked men, to watch over her son in all her different versions.

O, weary angels, don’t look at me with those eyes. If that is your state then what of our cries? What can I tell you of goodness that you don’t already know? What can I tell you of faith, of hope and love that you yourselves bestow? O, angels, don’t pluck another feather, this isn’t the sky, it’s just the weather. Please, angels, try. We are one all together. Look up and listen, I’ll say it once and then put down my pen: We are sorry for our ignorance and even though we are worldly, it might happen again. We are sorry for your weariness and even though you aren’t worldly, we are no more than human.

Ideally, Screwtape's advice to Wormwood should have been balanced by archangelical advice to the patient's guardian angel. Without this the picture of human life is lopsided. But who could supply the deficiency? Even if a man—and he would have to be a far better man than I—could scale the spiritual heights required, what answerable style could he use? For the style would really be part of the content. Mere advice would be no good; every sentence would have to smell of Heaven. And nowadays even if you could write pros like Johanna's, you wouldn't be allowed to for the canon of functionalism has disabled literature for half its functions. At bottom, every idealist style dictates not only how we should say things, but what sort of things we may say.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see who it was. My jaw dropped! Ralph and I exchanged looks of dismay and resignation. Standing behind us were our three top PJ bosses. Somehow they had tracked us down. We were caught red-handed and there was no escape. The air went out of my emotional sails, and I felt deflated. I didn’t even begin to try to talk my way out of this. I said, “OK. You got us. What can I say?” The PJ bosses looked at me funny and started to laugh. Then a long line of PJs streamed into the bar. The bosses were just the vanguard of a boisterous posse of PJs. Cabin fever had become unbearable and apparently almost every single PJ had decided to sneak off base! Everyone was loud, animated, and ready to do some serious drinking. Thus began a spontaneous and epic night of partying. Somehow, everyone made it back onto base afterwards without incident.

As I look back on my life, I can reflect on those times when I allowed myself to be held back by what others said to me...at one point in my life, I felt intimidated by some people. As I stand now...I don't allow intimidation...I have come to realize in my life that I have CHOICE as to how my life will go...God and I are the writers and I dare not give anyone else a pen to write their version of how it should go. I remember as a child, as I lay asleep before waking in the morning, I would hear a voice within me gently asking me, "Are you ready to start this day?! It's time to get up!!" No, it wasn't anyone trying to wake me, but I felt it was a heavenly presence. As I grew up, that same presence was with me...like a guardian angel I guess you can say...Something...someone was always there with me. I thank God for this journey I've been on...I've been allowed to live and experience so much more than most. I've been allowed to make mistakes and learn from them. I thank God for having that presence in my life...protecting me and guiding me like a compass, as I make my way Home.

I grew convinc'd that truth, sincerity and integrity in dealings between man and man were of the utmost importance to the felicity of life; and I form'd written resolutions, which still remain in my journal book, to practice them ever while I lived. Revelation had indeed no weight with me, as such; but I entertain'd an opinion that, though certain actions might not be bad because they were forbidden by it, or good because it commanded them, yet probably these actions might be forbidden because they were bad for us, or commanded because they were beneficial to us, in their own natures, all the circumstances of things considered. And this persuasion, with the kind hand of Providence, or some guardian angel, or accidental favorable circumstances and situations, or all together, preserved me, thro' this dangerous time of youth, and the hazardous situations I was sometimes in among strangers, remote from the eye and advice of my father, without any willful gross immorality or injustice, that might have been expected from my want of religion. I say willful, because the instances I have mentioned had something of necessity in them, from my youth, inexperience, and the knavery of others. I had therefore a tolerable character to begin the world with; I valued it properly, and determin'd to preserve it.

I grew convinced that truth, sincerity and integrity in dealings between man and man were of the utmost importance to the felicity of life; and I formed written resolutions, which still remain in my journal book, to practice them ever while I lived. Revelation had indeed no weight with me, as such; but I entertained an opinion that, though certain actions might not be bad because they were forbidden by it, or good because it commanded them, yet probably these actions might be forbidden because they were bad for us, or commanded because they were beneficial to us, in their own natures, all the circumstances of things considered. And this persuasion, with the kind hand of Providence, or some guardian angel, or accidental favorable circumstances and situations, or all together, preserved me, through this dangerous time of youth, and the hazardous situations I was sometimes in among strangers, remote from the eye and advice of my father, without any willful gross immorality or injustice, that might have been expected from my want of religion. I say willful, because the instances I have mentioned had something of necessity in them, from my youth, inexperience, and the knavery of others. I had therefore a tolerable character to begin the world with; I valued it properly, and determined to preserve it.

The flight to Reykjavik was proceeding uneventfully and the patient was stable and doing well, so I thought this was a good opportunity to have a little fun with the flight crew. I called the pilot on intercom. “Go ahead PJ.” the pilot responded. “I’ve been talking to this doctor back here and he seems to think it’s not looking good for this arm.” I explained. “What do you mean?” asked the pilot. “Well,” I said, “he says the arm was unattached for a long time, probably too long to sew it back on.” “That’s too bad.” The pilot sounded understandably disappointed. I waited a few minutes before giving the pilot further fictitious updates. “The doctor says he’s a hundred percent certain they won’t be able to sew on the arm now. It’s been detached too long. The patient also realizes they can’t sew his arm back on and has accepted the bad news. He’s a pretty tough character. Anyway, I talked to the doctor and patient about this whole situation. Since they can’t sew the arm back on, they said I could have it.” There was shocked silence on the intercom. “What?” asked the pilot. “They won’t be able to sew the arm back on because it’s been separated from his body for too long. The muscles and nerves have been without blood and oxygen for so long that cell death is irreversible. The hospital will just throw the arm away, so I asked them if I could have it, and they said yes.” Once again, there was an uncomfortable silence on the intercom. I could almost hear the gears whirring inside the pilots head. “Wha … what will you do with it?” stammered the pilot. I answered, “I’m not really sure. At first I’ll just keep it in my freezer. I just think it would be a waste to just throw a good arm away.” “Are you serious?” asked the pilot. “No.” I said, “I’m just messing with you.” But, the doctor told me that, ironically, right before the accident the man was heard to say, “I’d give my right arm to be ambidextrous.” Another crewmember chimed in, “That guys pretty tough. I think we should give him a hand!” I heard laughter over the intercom.

Employment Prayer II by Sonya I. Perkins As I embark on new areas in my life, I ask for the blessings and guidance of God, my ancestors, my spirit guides, and guardian angels. I ask for their blessings to guide me through this difficult period in my life. May I walk through this time with my head held high and with faith in myself and in spirit, and may I survive hard times as my ancestors survived hard times. I ask in the name of God for assistance in my search for suitable and gainful employment. I ask that my ancestors hear my pleas and put the right devices into my path, such as advertisements and people like recruiters, and that word of mouth reach my ears if the work is right for me. I ask that whatever opportunities are looking to find someone, let that opportunity find me, for I will be grateful for the blessing that opportunity will bequeath me. I ask that opportunity search and find me, as I have searched and searched for employment. They say opportunity knocks, but only one time. My eyes are open to see opportunity; my ears await the sound of opportunity knocking. I am ready to receive opportunity. I have patience, and I will continue to search for the job/career that is right for only me. I seek employment not just for a paycheck but also to be a productive, contributing member of my community. I ask for a suitable job, so that I may take care of my loved ones and myself. I ask for work to come to my hands so that I may feel and be useful. I ask that the people I work with be decent, friendly, hard working, and easy to get along with. I ask that I be compensated accordingly for the work that I provide. I ask that the job I secure will be something that I can look forward to doing on a daily basis. In the name of the divine providence, may my roads be opened and clear for me to find the right job. In the name of my spirit guides, I pray that the door of opportunity be opened to me as I try to become a more productive being. In the name of my guardian angel, I ask that you assist me during the hard times and help me to make it through until suitable employment is held securely in my hands. In the name of the most high and all that is light, I ask for these blessings for myself and for all those in search of employment for the betterment of all. So it was spoken, so it shall be.  Àṣe o!

Islam tells us that on the unappealable Day of Judgment, all who have perpetrated images of living things will reawaken with their works, and will be ordered to blow life into them, and they will fail, and they and their works will be cast into the fires of punishment. As a child, I knew that horror of the spectral duplication or multiplication of reality, but mine would come as I stood before large mirrors. As soon as it began to grow dark outside, the constant, infallible functioning of mirrors, the way they followed my every movement, their cosmic pantomime, would seem eerie to me. One of my insistent pleas to God and my guardian angel was that I not dream of mirrors; I recall clearly that I would keep one eye on them uneasily. I feared sometimes that they would begin to veer off from reality; other times, that I would see my face in them disfigured by strange misfortunes. I have learned that this horror is monstrously abroad in the world again. The story is quite simple, and terribly unpleasant. In 1927, I met a grave young woman, first by telephone (because Julia began as a voice without a name or face) and then on a corner at nightfall. Her eyes were alarmingly large, her hair jet black and straight, her figure severe. She was the granddaughter and greatgranddaughter of Federalists, as I was the grandson and great-grandson of Unitarians,* but that ancient discord between our lineages was, for us, a bond, a fuller possession of our homeland. She lived with her family in a big run-down high-ceiling'd house, in the resentment and savorlessness of genteel poverty. In the afternoons— only very rarely at night—we would go out walking through her neighbor-hood, which was Balvanera.* We would stroll along beside the high blank wall of the railway yard; once we walked down Sarmien to all the way to the cleared grounds of the Parque Centenario.*Between us there was neither love itself nor the fiction of love; I sensed in her an intensity that was utterly unlike the intensity of eroticism, and I feared it. In order to forge an intimacy with women, one often tells them about true or apocryphal things that happened in one's youth; I must have told her at some point about my horror of mirrors, and so in 1928 I must have planted the hallucination that was to flower in 1931. Now I have just learned that she has gone insane, and that in her room all the mirrors are covered, because she sees my reflection in them— usurping her own—and she trembles and cannot speak, and says that I am magically following her, watching her, stalking her. What dreadful bondage, the bondage of my face—or one of my former faces. Its odious fate makes me odious as well, but I don't care anymore.

Marcus Aurelius is persuaded that God gives every man a special daemon as his guide—a belief which reappears in the Christian guardian angel. He finds comfort in the thought of the universe as a closely-knit whole; it is, he says, one living being, having one substance and one soul. One of his maxims is: 'Frequently consider the connection of all things in the universe.

By Thursday the news had leaked out and a group of photographers waited for her outside the hospital. “People thought Diana only came in at the end,” says Angela. “Of course it wasn’t like that at all, we shared it all.” In the early hours of Thursday, August 23 the end came. When Adrian died, Angela went next door to telephone Diana. Before she could speak Diana said: “I’m on my way.” Shortly after she arrived they said the Lord’s Prayer together and then Diana left her friends to be alone for one last time. “I don’t know of anybody else who would have thought of me first,” says Angela. Then the protective side of Diana took over. She made up a bed for her friend, tucked her in and kissed her goodnight. While she was asleep Diana knew that it would be best if Angela joined her family on holiday in France. She packed her suitcase for her and telephoned her husband in Montpellier to tell him that Angela was flying out as soon as she awoke. Then Diana walked upstairs to see the baby ward, the same unit where her own sons were born. She felt that it was important to see life as well as death, to try and balance her profound sense of loss with a feeling of rebirth. In those few months Diana had learned much about herself, reflecting the new start she had made in life. It was all the more satisfying because for once she had not bowed to the royal family’s pressure. She knew that she had left Balmoral without first seeking permission from the Queen and in the last days there was insistence that she return promptly. The family felt that a token visit would have sufficed and seemed uneasy about her display of loyalty and devotion which clearly went far beyond the traditional call of duty. Her husband had never known much regard for her interests and he was less than sympathetic to the amount of time she spent caring for her friend. They failed to appreciate that she had made a commitment to Adrian Ward-Jackson, a commitment she was determined to keep. It mattered not whether he was dying of AIDS, cancer or some other disease, she had given her word to be with him at the end. She was not about to breach his trust. At that critical time she felt that her loyalty to her friends mattered as much as her duty towards the royal family. As she recalled to Angela: “You both need me. It’s a strange feeling being wanted for myself. Why me?” While the Princess was Angela’s guardian angel at Adrian’s funeral, holding her hand throughout the service, it was at his memorial service where she needed her friend’s shoulder to cry on. It didn’t happen. They tried hard to sit together for the service but Buckingham Palace courtiers would not allow it. As the service at St Paul’s Church in Knightsbridge was a formal occasion, the royal family had to sit in pews on the right, the family and friends of the deceased on the left. In grief, as with so much in Diana’s life, the heavy hand of royal protocol prevented the Princess from fulfilling this very private moment in the way she would have wished. During the service Diana’s grief was apparent as she mourned the man whose road to death had given her such faith in herself. The Princess no longer felt that she had to disguise her true feelings from the world. She could be herself rather than hide behind a mask. Those months nurturing Adrian had reordered her priorities in life. As she wrote to Angela shortly afterwards: “I reached a depth inside which I never imagined was possible. My outlook on life has changed its course and become more positive and balanced.

You are a strange person. I’m kinda hoping my roommate will come home soon, but you can just leave if you want. How were you wasted an hour ago—you could barely talk or walk—and now you’re sitting here making up elaborate stories? I thought you’d pass out the second you hit the couch.” “Oh, well that’s easy to explain. My metabolism is a lot faster than yours. I can eat and drink a whole bunch.” “Are you bragging, or are you saying you have some special angel quality that allows you to drink more alcohol?” She smirked. “I’m not human. I don’t sleep—I can’t. I wish I could because you bore me to tears and I have to watch over you.” “Uh huh. So you don’t sleep, but you get wasted?” “There’s no rule about drinking and flying last time I checked, but I wouldn’t be much of a guardian angel if I slept on the job, now would I?” “You’re a bit arrogant and completely insane, but you are definitely creative, I’ll give you that. Do your wings sprout out of your shirt when you take flight?” “No, they’re always there. You just can’t see ’em.” “I bet they’re big, huh?” She rolled her eyes. “They’re huge. Did you see the size of my feet? Thirteens.” I pointed at my boots, bit my bottom lip, and wiggled my eyebrows. “All the other angels say size doesn’t matter, but wait till you see me in action.” I was still a little drunk. I was flirting with her. I was despicable. “Great, so my guardian angel is a perverted narcissist.” She’d left out that I was a drunk as well, which was a relief

On December 8, Feast of the Immaculate Conception, she again returned, but so brilliant that her friend could not look at her. She visibly approached the term of her expiation. Finally, on December 10, during Holy Mass, she appeared in a still more wonderful state. After making a profound genuflexion before the altar, she thanked the pious girl for her prayers, and rose to Heaven in company with her guardian angel. Some time previous, this holy soul had made known that she suffered nothing more than the pain of loss, or the privation of God; but she added that that privation caused her intolerable torture. This revelation justifies the words of St. Chrysostom in his 47th Homily :” Imagine” he says, “all the torments of the world, you will not find one equal to the privation of the beatific vision of God” In fact, the torture of the pain of loss, of which we now treat, is, according to all the saints and all the doctors, much more acute than the pain of sense.

I don’t know if it’s the emotions of today that’s getting to me or if you’re there. Whatever it is, I want to let you know that you’ve made an impact on me and my life. More than you’ll ever know. And I know that ‘Thank you’ are two simple words but I don’t know what else to say. You’ve done so much for me and I don’t even know who you are or why you chose to protect me.

Sometimes the best way to relax, unwind, and get everything straightened out... is to curl up with a good book. – Douglas Pagels, from 100 Things to Always Remember and One Thing to Never Forget Give something of yourself to the day... even if it’s just a smile to someone walking the other way. – Douglas Pagels, from 100 Things to Always Remember and One Thing to Never Forget Even if you can’t just snap your fingers and make a dream come true, you can travel in the direction of your dream, every single day, and you can keep shortening the distance between the two of you. – Douglas Pagels, from 100 Things to Always Remember and One Thing to Never Forget Rest assured that, whenever you need them, your guardian angels are great about working overtime. – Douglas Pagels, from A Special Christmas Blessing Just for You Never forget what a treasure you are. That special person in the mirror may not always get to hear all the compliments you so sweetly deserve, but you are so worthy of such an abundance... of friendship, joy, and love. – Douglas Pagels, from You Are One Amazing Lady I love that I get to wake up every morning in a world that has people like you in it. – Douglas Pagels, from You Are One Amazing Lady Be someone who doesn’t make your guardian angel work too hard or worry too much. – Douglas Pagels, from Wishing You a Happy, Successful, Incredible Life! Each day is a blank page in the diary of your life. Every day, you’re given a chance to determine what the words will say and how the story will unfold. The more rewarding you can make each page, the more amazing the entire book will be. And I would love for you to write a masterpiece. – Douglas Pagels, from Wishing You a Happy, Successful, Incredible Life! Practice your tree pose. I want you to have a goal of finding a way to bring everything in your life into balance. Let the roots of all your dreams go deep. Let the hopes of all your tomorrows grow high. Bend, but don’t break. Take the seasons as they come. Stick up for yourself. And reach for the sky. – Douglas Pagels, from Wishing You a Happy, Successful, Incredible Life! Remember that a new morning is good medicine... and one of the joys of life is realizing that you have the ability to make this a really great day. – Douglas Pagels, from Wishing You a Happy, Successful, Incredible Life! Find comfort in knowing that “rising above” is something you can always find a way to do. – Douglas Pagels, from Wishing You a Happy, Successful, Incredible Life! Look up “onward” in the thesaurus and utilize every one of those synonyms whenever you’re wondering which direction to go in. – Douglas Pagels, from Wishing You a Happy, Successful, Incredible Life! Don’t judge yourself – love yourself. – Douglas Pagels, from Wishing You a Happy, Successful, Incredible Life! If you have a choice between a la-di-da life and an ooh-la-la! one, well... you know what to do. Choose the one that requires you to dust off your dancing shoes. – Douglas Pagels, from Wishing You a Happy, Successful, Incredible Life! Write out your own definition of success. Fill it with a mix of stardust and wishes and down-to-earth things, and provide all the insight you can give it. Imagine what it takes to have a really happy, rewarding life. And then go out... and live it. – Douglas Pagels, from Wishing You a Happy, Successful, Incredible Life!

The headline of a comprehensive exposé in The Guardian expressed the global shock among the scientific community at the rank corruption by scientific publishing’s most formidable pillars: “The Lancet has made one of the biggest retractions in modern history. How could this happen?”94 The Guardian writers openly accused The Lancet of promoting fraud: “The sheer number and magnitude of the things that went wrong or missing are too enormous to attribute to mere incompetence.” The Guardian commented, “What’s incredible is that the editors of these esteemed journals still have a job—that is how utterly incredible the supposed data underlying the studies was.” The capacity of their Pharma overlords to strong-arm the world’s top two medical journals, the NEJM and The Lancet, into condoning deadly research95,96 and to simultaneously publish blatantly fraudulent articles in the middle of a pandemic, attests to the cartel’s breathtaking power and ruthlessness. It is no longer controversial to acknowledge that drug makers rigorously control medical publishing and that The Lancet, NEJM, and JAMA are utterly corrupted instruments of Pharma. The Lancet editor, Richard Horton, confirms, “Journals have devolved into information laundering operations for the pharmaceutical industry.”97 Dr. Marcia Angell, who served as an NEJM editor for 20 years, says journals are “primarily a marketing machine.”98 Pharma, she says, has co-opted “every institution that might stand in its way.”99,100 Cracking Down on HCQ to Keep Case Fatalities High Referring to the Lancet Surgisphere study during a May 27 CNN interview, Dr. Fauci stated on CNN about hydroxychloroquine,

When my father interviewed kids for Candid Camera, his favorite part of his work, he had a challenge. How could he quickly break through the intimidation felt by a little child toward a big unknown adult? He did so by lighting a match and feigning difficulty in blowing it out. Balanced on the edge of a preschool-size chair, he would huff and puff with theatrical overacting, turning finally to the youngster and saying, “Can you help me?” And they would. Moments later, my dad and his new friend would be chatting about guardian angels, the wonders of spaghetti, money, and a host of other delightful topics. The gap my father was closing is called the “power distance,” a concept developed by Professor Geert Hofstede. This phenomenon can cause people to avoid or defer to those they feel are more powerful and, in doing so, to shut down channels of honest communication. By asking for help, my father broke the power distance and opened a gateway to closeness with each and every match blower. If you lead at least a few people, this section is for you. And in order to develop the closeness needed to build a white space team, you’ll need to address the same lopsided dynamics as my father. You must ask for help, step out of having all the answers, and truly enlist a wide spectrum of input to move toward the changes you want. Speak to people about their needs, desires, and enthusiasms. And make it more than a gesture, authentically being open to using the ideas that spring from these conversations. The following steps will show you how.

When you align Earth with God, when you stand between the Below and the Above and encourage yourself to accept each, embrace both and become both, you begin to reach a deeper layer of conscious consciousness. Let yourself be curious about this moment and remember where you're juggling the Above and Below inside. Tell where you are most associated with Source energies. How do you respond to every manifestation? How do you build equilibrium in your body and in your work, externally? •       Just imagine. You are practically straddling these two universes even when you're reading those words. Within one glorious shape you are the above and below. Now let yourself feel that strength, that connection. Let your hands open and imagine the blinding stream of eternal white light streaming through all the entities flowing through and into the bottom of your feet, from the middle of the Moon, through Gaia and the great Earth Star, through the Rot and residual chakras, through the Crown to the Soul Star and beyond, to the farthest worlds. •       Then see the very top of your head open to the sky, causing the bright stream of celestial light energy to return from the farthest reaches of the universe through the star systems and constellations, down through the Earth's atmosphere and into the chakras of your Soul Star and Earth Star, through the central column, down through the lower chakras and back... here. Here in the womb of the Mother; here in the uppermost realms of Gaia; here, where mortals live, know, grow, love, laugh, lose and discover. In this place energy becomes matter. •       Ye are here. This is. You can relax here, be free, linked and be able to release no energy in your holy service any more. Say, "Guardian Angels, bless us as we combine the beauty and wisdom of the upper and lower worlds, softly or openly. Bring us peace as we stand among the worlds and broaden our consciousness to reflect universal love and unity. Amen, A'ho, So it is. "• Take a deep breath to finish this induction. Imagine, on the exhale, lowering a huge golden anchor down behind you into the Earth. Feel the foundation like you do, as it reinforces and encourages you. Let yourself rest here, knowing you're safe, whole and fine. Those are the Root Chakra presents. May they still do you well.

I always figured Gloria, but mentioning my guardian angel didn’t seem prudent, so I shrugged ignorance and yawned. “Sneezing works just as well, if not better.” “What?” The stupid belt would not unbuckle. “Yawning is adequate,” he said. “But when you get caught with a question you prefer not to answer, it is better to sneeze. Anyone who asked the question will usually say bless you in some form. The question is forgotten, and you move on unscathed.” “Okay. Ah-choo.” “Bless you. So where did the complex and ancient protection wards come from?” “You said that would work on anyone.” “I am not just anyone

A guardian angel will help us,” Lucia replied, “be prudent and resign yourself.” Her mother added more advice along the same lines, and the groom left at last, his heart in turmoil. He kept repeating to himself the same strange words. “In the end there is justice in this world.” For a man overcome by grief truly does not know what he is saying.

I remember sitting in silence for a while, wanting nothing more than to break down. I didn’t, though. I didn’t break down. I just sat there, waiting. I’m not sure what I was really waiting for. I think I just wanted a sign, or something. Like, from the universe, saying it wasn’t the end, and that I should keep fighting. But I never got that sign. Must’ve been forever before I realized my guardian angel wasn’t gonna fall from the sky and make him love me again. No amount of false hope or sadness was gonna fix my heart, so when I realized that and finally decided to get up from my spot where I feel like I’d been sitting for days, I kind of just… accepted it. I accepted that the moon stopped following me home and the girl I loved didn’t love me anymore. This wasn’t a fairytale and I wasn’t a kid anymore. It was time to let go. I had to let go. So I did. I let go.

I remember sitting in silence for a while, wanting nothing more than to break down. I didn’t, though. I didn’t break down. I just sat there, waiting. I’m not sure what I was really waiting for. I think I just wanted a sign, or something. Like, from the universe, saying it wasn’t the end, and that I should keep fighting. But I never got that sign. Must’ve been forever before I realized my guardian angel wasn’t gonna fall from the sky and make him love me again. No amount of false hope or sadness was gonna fix my heart, so when I realized that and finally decided to get up from my spot where I feel like I’d been sitting for days, I kind of just… accepted it. I accepted that the moon stopped following me home and the boy I loved didn’t love me anymore. This wasn’t a fairytale and I wasn’t a kid anymore. It was time to let go. I had to let go. So I did. I let go.

The response of most patients in the depression trial... has been remarkably positive, as least in the short term. Over dinner at a restaurant in West London, Robin told me about one severely depressed woman in the trial whom over the course of several meetings he had never once seen smile. As he sat with her during her psilocybin journey, "she smiled for the very first time. "'It's nice to smile,' she said. "After it was over, she told me she had been visited by a guardian angel. She described a presence of some kind, a voice that was entirely supportive and wanted her to be well. It would say things like 'Darling, you need to smile more, hold your head up high, stop looking down at the ground. Then it reached over and pushed up my cheeks,' she said, 'lifting the corners of my mouth.' "That must have been what was happening in her mind when I observed her smiling," Robin said, now smiling himself, broadly if a bit sheepishly. In the aftermath of her experience, the woman's depression score dropped from thirty-six to four. "I have to say, that was a very nice feeling." p330

Mother's Prayer for Her Children Holy Father, Immortal, from whom all goodness and gentleness comes, penitently I pray Thee for the children whom Thou hast given me to bear. Keep them in Thy grace and holiness, that Thy name may be glorified in them. Direct me by Thy grace to raise them toward the glory of Thy holy name and the benefit of other people. Grant me the gift of the patience necessary to do so. O Lord, enlighten the mind of my children with Thy Wisdom to learn to love Thee in their souls and thoughts. Instill in their hearts the fear and abhorrence of every vice, that they may be able to go the right way without sin. Adorn their souls with purity, goodness, humility, diligence, patience, and every virtue. Guard their lips from all slander and lies. Bless my children, that they may progress in virtue and holiness, and grow under Thy care into honest people. May their guardian angels be with them and protect them in their youth from misleading thoughts, from the evil and sinful temptations of this world, and from the traps of all unclean spirits. And when my children sin before Thee, do not turn away Thy face from them, but according to Thy great mercy be merciful unto them, for Thou alone art the one who cleansesth people from all sin. Reward my children with worldly good things and everything they need for salvation. Keep them from wrath, anger, misfortune, evil, and suffering all the days of their lives. O good Lord, I pray Thee, grant me joy and happiness from my children. Keep me in righteousness and justice, that with Thy children I may stand before Thee in the day of Thy dreaded judgment, and that without fear I may say: Here I am, Lord, with the children whom Thou hast given me, that together with them I may praise Thy most holy name of the Father and Son and Holy Spirit, unto ages of ages. Amen.

Death often comes quickly, and people shouldn't wait until the last moments of their lives to get to know God. "They might not have time," he says. What a tragedy that would be.

I breathe and relax Angel Meditation Say to your guardian angel: I love feeling calm I breathe and relax (breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth each time) I love smiling I breathe and relax I love laughing I breathe and relax I love feeling grateful I breathe and relax I love the sun I breathe and relax I love gazing at the sky I breathe and relax I love gazing at the clouds as they drift on by I breathe and relax I love seeing the colours of the sun rising I breathe and relax

The Christians quite literally demonised the daemon. It’s a tutelary spirit – though it can also be something of a trickster – Christians call it a Guardian Angel. You might say it’s an ally. An inner ally.

He guarded him . . . like an eagle that stirs up its nest and hovers over its young, that spreads its wings to catch them and carries them on its pinions. The Lord alone led him; no foreign god was with him. (Deuteronomy 32:10–12) Our almighty God is like a parent who delights in leading the tender children in His care to the very edge of a precipice and then shoving them off the cliff into nothing but air. He does this so they may learn that they already possess an as-yet-unrealized power of flight that can forever add to the pleasure and comfort of their lives. Yet if, in their attempt to fly, they are exposed to some extraordinary peril, He is prepared to swoop beneath them and carry them skyward on His mighty wings. When God brings any of His children into a position of unparalleled difficulty, they may always count on Him to deliver them. from The Song of Victory When God places a burden upon you, He places His arms underneath you. There once was a little plant that was small and whose growth was stunted, for it lived under the shade of a giant oak tree. The little plant valued the shade that covered it and highly regarded the quiet rest that its noble friend provided. Yet there was a greater blessing prepared for this little plant. One day a woodsman entered the forest with a sharp ax and felled the giant oak. The little plant began to weep, crying out, “My shelter has been taken away. Now every fierce wind will blow on me, and every storm will seek to uproot me!” The guardian angel of the little plant responded, “No! Now the sun will shine and showers will fall on you more abundantly than ever before. Now your stunted form will spring up into loveliness, and your flowers, which could never have grown to full perfection in the shade, will laugh in the sunshine. And people in amazement will say, ‘Look how that plant has grown! How gloriously beautiful it has become by removing that which was its shade and its delight!’ ” Dear believer, do you understand that God may take away your comforts and privileges in order to make you a stronger Christian? Do you see why the Lord always trains His soldiers not by allowing them to lie on beds of ease but by calling them to difficult marches and service? He makes them wade through streams, swim across rivers, climb steep mountains, and walk many long marches carrying heavy backpacks of sorrow. This is how He develops soldiers—not by dressing them up in fine uniforms to strut at the gates of the barracks or to appear as handsome gentlemen to those who are strolling through the park. No, God knows that soldiers can only be made in battle and are not developed in times of peace. We may be able to grow the raw materials of which soldiers are made, but turning them into true warriors requires the education brought about by the smell of gunpowder and by fighting in the midst of flying bullets and exploding bombs, not by living through pleasant and peaceful times. So, dear Christian, could this account for your situation? Is the Lord uncovering your gifts and causing them to grow? Is He developing in you the qualities of a soldier by shoving you into the heat of the battle? Should you not then use every gift and weapon He has given you to become a conqueror? Charles H. Spurgeon

For years I have talked everything out with God and then, almost as easily as "poof", I have been appointed to be the custodian of a book about guardian angels. If I were to decipher what this is all about, I would say that God wants people to know that assistance is available anytime you ask and even when you don't ask. It is about knowing that you are not alone on this earthly journey and the power is in recognizing this and to be comforted with that very knowledge.

The single greatest influence in our lives was the church. The Catholic Church in the 1960s differs from what it is today, especially in the Naugatuck Valley, in those days an overwhelmingly conservative Catholic place. I was part of what might have been the last generation of American Catholic children who completely and unquestioningly accepted the supernatural as real. Miracles happened. Virgin birth and transubstantiation made perfect sense. Mere humans did in fact, become saints. There was a Holy Ghost. Guardian angels walked beside us and our patron saints really did put in a good word for us every now and then.

The heavenly principalities and powers cannot touch you. But the earthly humans over which we rule can.” Though they had no authority to touch Yahweh’s anointed, they might do so through their human vessels. Jesus trembled with the weight of responsibility that now overwhelmed him. But the pain was lessened when he heard the familiar sound of his favorite angel echo in his mind. Jesus, be strong and courageous. “Jesus, be strong and courageous.” It wasn’t in his mind, it was being spoken to him from behind. “Sound familiar?” Jesus turned. He looked up into the smiling face of Uriel the smallest of three angels now standing before him. Uriel finished his thought, “The words you spoke to Joshua at the threshold of the Promised Land. Funny how it all comes full circle.” Gabriel, the second angel, and Uriel’s constant bickering companion, responded, “Uriel, I think your humor is once again in incredibly poor taste considering his suffering. Where is your compassion?” “Nonsense,” said Uriel. “Jesus has done it. Victory is a cause for celebration, not sadness. He made it forty days without food, which is more than I can say for you, chubby.” Uriel patted Gabriel’s stomach. Gabriel moved away annoyed at the jab. Sure, he was heavier than the lightweight Uriel, but he certainly didn’t see himself as “chubby.” Mikael, the largest and best groomed of the three, was the guardian prince of Israel, and tended to be protective of his ward. He offered a wineskin to Jesus, who took it and gulped with gratitude. After a moment of silence, Jesus wiped his beard of the wine and said, “You need a better sense of humor, Gabriel.” Gabriel pouted with frustration at being ganged up on. Uriel, his perpetual nemesis was one thing. But being teased by the Master was quite another. Jesus said, “And Uriel, you had better deliver on that bread you promised.” Uriel smiled again and held out a loaf of Mary’s best bread. “Baked two hours ago by your mother.” Jesus grabbed it. Mikael said, “Remember, do not eat too quickly. It is bad for your digestion after fasting.” “Thank you for your ministering spirits,” said Jesus, and took a big hungry bite out of the loaf. Uriel muttered, “Your mother should open a bakery. Can I have a bite?” Mikael was not so lighthearted. He knew that the challenge had been declared. The road to war had begun.

You're my guardian angel, Abbey," she said as she climbed into the car. "No, not really, Sam. I'm just a messenger." "But that’s what angels are. That’s how God says, 'I'm here, and it's going to be all right.

Each day I perform complex choreography around people, dogs, garbage bags, cyclists going the wrong way, traffic signs with arrows that say ONLY, creaking as they swing in the wind. Sometimes I walk for blocks, even miles, without paying much attention. But then my gait slows. Something tugs at my arm and whispers, Look! Look. There are limestone angels about the doors of the Parish of the Guardian Angel. There's a Banksy painted on Zabar's. There are toy cardinals tied like red ribbons to tree branches on Bank Street. And just like that, Manhattan has me again.

Khalil always gives me food as though I’m worse than a dog. Misty-eyed, I note he doesn’t look the same as usual. He stares at me. He’s about to say something, laughs and tells me: ‘Your guardian angel has just been assassinated because of you. Your beloved Governor Salman Taseer, that Muslim traitor, is now bathing in his own blood. He was killed with twenty-five bullets in Islamabad for defending you. Good riddance! You’d better keep your head down!’ Salman Taseer was a good man. He was governor of my province, the largest and richest in Pakistan. With its ninety million inhabitants, they call Punjab the ‘land of the five rivers’ and ‘the land of the pure’; Salman Taseer was one of those. He wasn’t a typical politician, he wasn’t power-hungry and greedy like some, he was a humanist who was quick to oppose the Taliban and the Islamic extremists. When he heard about my death sentence, he defended me in public.