Chicken Soup for the Soul: Angels All Around: 101 Inspirational Stories of Miracles, Divine Intervention, and Answered Prayers

Daddy, Why Did You Push Me?

Don’t believe in miracles — depend on them.

~Laurence J. Peter

When our girls, Autumn and Emerald, were little, my husband Sam and I loved taking them to Drakes Creek Park in Hendersonville, Tennessee. We usually stopped en route to pick up a loaf of bread so the girls could feed the ducks by the side of the lake.

One afternoon, while feeding the squawking mallards, five-year-old Autumn kept getting too close to the water. I would make her move back, but before we knew it, she would be right back at the edge. Sensing that I was getting overly anxious, Sam suggested that I go check on my mom, who was sitting at a picnic table up the slope from the water. He was watching the girls.

I’d gone about halfway up the slope toward my mom when I heard the unmistakable splash of a body entering the water. By the time I turned around, I saw my husband pulling our daughter from the water by one arm. Fearing the worst because of the jagged rocks that were just under the water at the edge of the lake, I ran back to them in a panic. As I reached them, I heard my unscathed daughter ask, Daddy, why did you push me when I started falling?

Sam, who was now kneeling in front of her, responded, Honey, I didn’t push you. I was standing next to Emerald. When I looked over, you just kind of lurched out into the water. That man helped me pull you out.

Autumn replied, Daddy, I felt a push on my back after I started falling.

Gently, Sam placed his hands on her shoulders, looked straight into her eyes, and said, I promise you, Autumn, I did not push you. Then he pulled her into a tender embrace. Looking around for a moment and then turning to me, he said, Hey, Jack (he always called me that unless we were arguing), where’s the guy who helped me pull Autumn out of the water?

I looked at him quizzically and replied, Honey, what are you talking about? There was no one but you who lifted her out.

Jack, there was a man who grabbed her other arm and helped me pull her out. I couldn’t have gotten her out by myself.

Just as I was about to respond, a lady approached us holding a baby blanket exactly like the one that had been Autumn’s favorite as a toddler. She said, I saw your little girl fall in, and I thought y’all could use this to dry her off. I reached for it and offered thanks at the same time that Sam asked her if she’d seen where the man went who had helped get our daughter out of the lake. The woman responded, Sir, I didn’t see nobody but you get her out. Sam asked her if she was sure, and she assured him she was positive that she’d seen only him.

A few minutes later, when we reached my mother — who’d seen everything from her vantage point at the picnic table — she told us the same thing as the woman with the blanket. She hadn’t seen anyone help Sam pull Autumn out.

We knew we’d had an angelic intervention. The jagged rocks under the water went in six or eight feet so it was a miracle that Autumn somehow fell right past them into the safer area. The push she felt propelled her right over those rocks, so she didn’t get even a scratch. No one but Sam saw the man who helped, except Autumn felt his push.

I’ve never forgotten that miraculous encounter. And when Autumn gave birth to her daughter two and a half years ago at the age of twenty, I gave her the little receiving blanket that the woman at the park gave us the day the angel saved her from serious injury or even death.

— Jackie Carman Blankenship —

Airport Angel

A guardian angel walks with us, sent from up above, their loving wings surround us and enfold us with love.

~Author Unknown

It was the morning after my twenty-fourth birthday. Instead of catching up on lost sleep from a late night out, I was sitting in the back seat of a car heading to the airport so my boyfriend could complete his yearlong deployment to Afghanistan.

There were five people in the car, but hardly any words were spoken during the forty-minute drive. We sat in silent understanding, each building up the courage to say goodbye to a person we all loved, unsure if there were any words that could make the goodbye easier. I replayed the first half of the month in my head, astonished that two weeks — his allotted mid-deployment leave time — had passed so quickly. Our relationship was fairly new, so my stomach was a knot of nerves.

When we arrived at the airport, we each obtained a security pass so we could walk our hero to the gate. As fate would have it, he had missed his original flight and was rebooked on a later one, giving us a little more time together. We gladly stole every extra second we could.

Sitting in the stiff airport seat, reality hit. I sat on his right side, our hands still clasped together, while his mom sat on his other side, her head gently resting on his left shoulder. None of us spoke, and I tried my best to push down the lump in my throat when I saw a tear slide down his mother’s cheek.

That unleashed my own tears, but I tried not to let him see me cry. I didn’t want him to feel guilty for leaving when I knew it wasn’t a choice but a duty. He had made a promise to his country and the Army long before making any promises to me.

Before we were ready, the time had come for him to board the plane. We rose from our chairs and stood in a line, each of us taking a turn to say our form of See you later. I stayed to the far right, wanting my soldier to be able to give his family a proper farewell. Too soon, it was my turn, and my boyfriend and I embraced, shedding tears for the uncertainty that lay ahead.

I had never dated someone in the service before, so the experience was entirely new. I knew with all my heart I was falling in love with him, but I was scared the risk wouldn’t be worth the heartbreak should the worst thing happen. I wanted to hold on tight to him and never let go, but I reluctantly pried my arms from around his neck and blinked the tears from my eyes so I could see him clearly.

Focus, I said, as much to him as to myself.

I saw a flash of movement to my right. By the time I turned my attention to the source, a man was standing next to us.

Here, he said to my soldier. Take this. It will keep you safe.

The man held out his hand to my boyfriend, who was hesitant to take what the man was offering.

I know this is difficult, but you’ll be alright. You’ll come home, the man said with a smile. Opening his hand, he revealed a silver chain necklace with a small pendant hanging from it. My boyfriend opened his hand and accepted the gift from the stranger.

He turned to me as he patted my boyfriend on the back. He’s going to come home to you. Everything is going to be okay, all right? Don’t worry, he said. He glanced at all of us with reassurance.

The five of us smiled and gave a collective thank you. My boyfriend hugged the complete stranger. Full of gratitude, we turned our attention to the necklace in my boyfriend’s hand. He held it up, revealing that the pendant was that of Saint Michael.

We all looked at each other in wonder and appreciation to have experienced such a kind gesture from a total stranger. Then we realized he was no longer standing next to us and was nowhere to be seen.

The gate attendant made the final boarding announcement. With one more hug and kiss, my boyfriend placed the necklace around his neck and vowed not to take it off through the remainder of his deployment.

After he walked out of sight, his family and I tried our best to find the kind stranger but he was nowhere to be found.

My then boyfriend, now my husband, wore that necklace throughout his entire deployment. Saint Michael, known throughout many religions as the Angel of War, the leader of all angels and of the army of God, rested around his neck for eight months. Only after he returned safely did he take it off, and we still have that necklace to this day.

None of us has an explanation for what happened at the airport all those years ago. We try to picture the man, but none of us can remember what he looked like. We simply remember the way he made us feel, and we refer to him as our angel because there doesn’t seem to be any other explanation.

— S.L. Blake —

Lucy’s Angel

A good man’s prayers will from the deepest dungeon climb heavens’ height, and bring a blessing down.

~Joanna Baillie

Five-year-old Lucy would not come out from under the table in reading class again. My teenage daughter, Molly, was trying to coax her out to sit at the table and practice learning her ABCs. As the remedial reading teacher, I worked with Lucy every day to give her extra help in reading. Molly volunteered every week to come and encourage Lucy.

It was not going well because Lucy’s eyes were terribly cross-eyed and she could not see the page, the alphabet, or many of the toys and books in my classroom.

After class, Molly complained to me. She said that Lucy would never learn to read until she could see! Of course, I knew that, but I explained to her that I had tried to get help for Lucy’s vision problem, but to no avail. My job was to help each child learn, whatever the situation might be. So we needed to encourage Lucy to sit at the table and practice reading and writing her ABCs.

Since my husband and I had three children of our own and very little extra money at that time, I needed to do the best I could as a teacher in that situation. I told my daughter that I would be sure to get Lucy an eye operation if I ever had the money — if I were ever visited by an angel who would help me win the lottery, I would get Lucy’s eyes fixed.

Every Friday night, my husband and I went out on an inexpensive date. We went to a country-western saloon where we were trying to learn to do the two-step. On Fridays the saloon had a drawing to attract more customers. The place was always packed with 500 people because everyone wanted to win the cash.

Each week, $100 was added to the pot. One night the pot was up to $2,500. As we entered the saloon, we were handed a raffle ticket. Later that evening, the DJ selected four numbers and mine was one of them — out of 500 people! I felt like a beautiful, little angel was on my shoulder!

I brought my ticket to the stage with a trembling hand. I had to pick a key from among ninety-nine keys in a basket to try to open the treasure chest. The other three people went first but could not open the chest. If I had the right key, I could open the treasure chest and get $2,500. I looked very closely at the keys. They appeared to look exactly the same at first glance. However, I swear one appeared a little shinier than the rest and beckoned to me to choose it.

It was as if an angel were guiding my hand to select that particular key. In my heart, I knew I had been helped to choose that key by divine intervention.

My exquisite key slipped right in and opened the chest with the money inside! I already knew exactly how the money would be spent.

The next morning, I called Lucy’s dad, Johnny, a young, single father with four children under the age of eight. He was overworked and trying his best to provide his kids with a stable life. I explained about the money I had won. I told him I felt the money was given to me to help Lucy with her eyes. I really felt an angel had been on my shoulder the evening before, helping me choose the correct key.

Johnny gave me permission to take Lucy to the doctor. The ophthalmologist said her eyes could be fixed, but there was a short window of time. After children reach a certain age, the problem is permanent. He said we only had a few months.

A problem arose during the last appointment before the surgery. The doctor said Lucy would need to stay in bed and rest for three days after the surgery so her eyes could heal. Johnny said he could not take off from work, and it would not be a calm environment at his home anyway. So I agreed to have Lucy stay at my house for a few days until she could go home.

My teaching friends were afraid that I would get in trouble for having a student stay with me. They warned that it could result in serious problems down the road, especially since I did not know the family very well. I told them that this miracle occurred because God had used me to get Lucy’s eyes fixed. The angel on my shoulder that evening would not let me down now.

After the operation, Lucy did stay with me for a few days. When the bandages were taken off, we knew the operation was a success! She could now see well enough to see the world around her better.

At school, Lucy no longer hid under the table. She was happy to join our small reading group to work on learning to read. She enjoyed looking at books, and learning the alphabet and how to write. She was happier and had more self-confidence.

Years later, I am still in touch with Lucy. She is now a mother with two daughters of her own. Every time I see Lucy and her beautiful blue eyes, I know that God works in mysterious ways.

— Ginny Huff Conahan —

The Farewell Party

Angels are the bridge between heaven and earth.

~Megan McKenna

My friend Linda was in the hospital. That day, I planned to see her family: her two sisters and ninety-year-old mom from Nova Scotia, her son in Toronto, and her other son and his wife who lived here in Alberta. This loving family had come together to cheer Linda, who was in the Intensive Care Unit after a setback. Their weeklong visit would end the next day.

I already knew the family from their prior visits to support Linda during her bone-marrow transplant. It had been a long struggle for Linda, but she had been doing better until this recent setback. My plan was to meet them for lunch at the hospital and then drive back home in the afternoon. But right after I closed my front door, I heard a little voice say, Go back and book a hotel. Take the wine.

There was a hotel across the street from the hospital, and I had just bought a couple of bottles of wine, but why did I have to do this? It seemed like the most unlikely thing to do, but somehow I knew I had to do it. I unlocked my door, put down my purse, and phoned the hotel across the street from the hospital. They had only one room for one night. I booked it.

Nothing made sense, but I didn’t have time to argue. I rationalized that Linda’s mom or her two sisters might appreciate a glass of wine and a good sleep in a real bed instead of camping out in Linda’s room or the waiting room. If that were the case, so be it. I stood a minute pondering whether I should take the red or the white wine I had purchased the previous day. Then I chuckled to myself, thinking I could always bring one bottle back home, so I packed both.

I went straight to the hotel, parked and registered. After I put my bag inside the hotel-room door, I ran to meet Linda’s family. Her son Matt and her sister Debbie met me and shared their concerns. Linda was still struggling and would not be released from ICU by nightfall. They felt uneasy about leaving her.

We went up to the waiting room to join the rest of the family. Right then, the nurse came and called both sons to see the doctor. Matt and John returned and asked all of us to join them in the little room. Matt said, Mom has talked to the doctor. There is no more to be done, she says. Mom has thanked the doctor and all the staff.

Matt paused. The doctor thanked Mom for being an incredible patient and asked if he could do anything more for her. Matt’s voice broke, and then he continued, And Mom said she would like to have a glass of wine with her family. All was quiet for a moment.

I don’t know where we will get that, but…

I can get that, I said, and I ran out of the room and across the street to the hotel.

As I hurried, I thought, Linda hates wine from a paper or Styrofoam cup. Maybe the hotel room will have two glasses in the bathroom. To my surprise, there was a nice kitchen, with four wine glasses and four water goblets in the cupboard. I wrapped them in my clothes with the wine and tore back across the street.

Linda’s sons invited me into her room, and they poured the wine. There were eight of us and eight glasses. Two bottles of wine seemed to be just right.

When a nurse appeared with a stack of cups, she was surprised. Oh, you already have real glasses. I guess you won’t need these.

Linda was lucid, and her son John helped her with a straw to sip her wine. Linda smiled, and we all stood around the bed and enjoyed the party. As she looked at each of us intently like never before, she said, What a handsome crew. This room is brimming with love.

Stroking Linda’s bald head, her mom told her how beautiful she was, inside and out. She said that now Linda would go to join her dad. Then Linda, her mom and sisters began to sing an Irish song the dad had taught them: Put Me in Your Pocket (So I’ll Be Close to You).

Linda spoke to all of us, and we said our final goodbyes.

Then Linda told one of her sons, I don’t have any fresh produce, but I have some frozen pizzas in the freezer if you want.

He smiled. No, Mom, we are happy with a glass of wine. Are you?

Yes. I haven’t felt this good in months. She closed her eyes, and we all stayed until she passed.

Exhausted but awed, sad but content, we bid each other farewell.

We never used the $200 hotel room — only the elegant glasses. But how fortunate that little voice had urged me to bring the wine and get the room. It was worth paying for the room just to have those glasses for Linda! My guardian angel knew exactly what she was doing.

— Glenice Wilson —

Butterflies

Love is like a butterfly: It goes where it pleases and it pleases wherever it goes.

~Author Unknown

It was a bright September morning, the first day of my senior year in high school. The school was located on a small, tree-lined street, and the branches of tall poplars and birches were inches away from our classroom window. Some leaves were still green, but many were already turning yellow, red, and orange.

The school building was old, and everything about it seemed worn and in need of repair. The desks creaked, the blackboard had scratches, and the large picture in a heavy frame that hung above the teacher’s desk was so dusty that it was hard to discern the landscape it portrayed.

We’re getting a new biology teacher, my friend Gail told me. I hope she’s nice.

I hope so, too.

I sat down next to Gail, and we chatted and watched other students walk in and take their seats. We had been at the same school for many years, and we knew everyone. Then a new girl walked in. She was petite, with dark hair and pale skin. She wore a checkered skirt, a white top, and a plain jacket. I didn’t see any jewelry or make-up, not even a hint of mascara. But that’s not what surprised me most. I expected her to find a seat with the other students. Instead, she walked to the teacher’s desk.

My name is Ms. Keto, she said. I’m your new biology teacher.

She’s so young, Gail whispered.

Ms. Keto, apparently having heard the comment, smiled and said, Everyone tells me I look too young to be a teacher, but I have my degree and teaching credentials. As for my youth, I’ll tell you what my grandmother always tells me. ‘Don’t worry. Youth is a drawback that goes away with time.’ Her eyes sparkled as she said it.

We chuckled and settled down for the lesson. Ms. Keto kept our attention for the entire period, telling us about her studies in marine biology, the expeditions she took, and the interesting projects she planned for our class. She was knowledgeable and spoke with a sense of authority, yet she was friendly and approachable. Her positive attitude infused our old school with energy, and everything seemed newer somehow. Even the old, dusty picture up on the wall looked brighter.

In a few weeks, the whole class fell in love with Ms. Keto. Besides teaching biology, she started a science club and a hiking club. Gail and I joined both.