A few weeks ago, two friends and I visited a sick friend. While there, we had a rather lively *cough* discussion on religion and faith. (Read: Lisa argued with Eamonn and I, staunch Catholics, *cough* until our eyes bled.)
Eamonn mentioned a book he had discovered, Angels in My Hair, by Irish author Lorna Byrne. This book deals with Byrne’s experiences, throughout her life, with spirits and angels.
As you sit there reading this-whether you believe it or not-there is an angel by your side: it is your guardian angel, and it never leaves you. Each one of us has been given a gift, a shield made from the energy of light. It is part of the guardian angel’s task to put this shield around us…When I look at someone I can physically see this shield around them, as if it’s alive.
Eamonn loaned the book to Lisa, and she has now passed it along to me. I look forward to reading it, and hopefully discussing it with the both of them.
I have conflicted feelings about this topic. I am a believing, if imperfect, Catholic Christian, and I have heard many compelling stories from people who truly believed they have seen spirits. However, my practical, cynical side rears its ugly head, and I’m doubtful.
Fast forward to Denver. I was sitting at the hotel bar having a Kentucky Mule and some food while I waited to attend a “ghost tour” with some friends. A woman, a bus driver from Utah, came and sat next to me. We chatted for awhile about dogs and children, when I told her I needed to get going soon. I explained what my friends and I were doing that evening.
She turned to me, cocked her head, and said “Really? That’s funny.”
Confused, I asked why.
“Because you’re not alone. You have a spirit with you.”
Alarmed, I raised my eyebrows.
“It’s your grandmother. She’s always with you.”
I immediately burst into tears, and not only because of the two Kentucky Mules I had just downed.
We spoke for a few minutes more, and I told her how much my grandmother had meant to me, that’s she’d been gone a little over 11 years. “Yes, she’s here. She’s always with you.”
I gave the stranger a hug and ran off to meet my friends, but the woman’s words kept coming back to me all night. I hadn’t mentioned my grandmother at all. Was it a good guess on her part? Can you not throw a rock without hitting a woman who had a deep relationship with her grandmother? Was she telling the truth?
I know my grandmother is in my heart, and will be until the moment I no longer draw breath. She crosses my mind at least once a day, because she was the most important person in my life. I truly and emphatically believe that death destroys neither love nor bonds.
But is her spirit with me, visible to those who have eyes to see?