When I was a kid, my mother believed in angels, but I didn’t. I was on the fence about angels. I didn’t believe in hocus pocus. My thought was, if angels were real, then why were they always the worst team in the Major Leagues? My mother used to say, “When you get older, you will believe.”
“How can you be so sure?” I asked.
“Because, when you’re older there will be moments in your life when you cannot logically explain what just happened, without believing.”
But then I started writing. And almost immediately, I started receiving stories from people.
Like this one: The young woman was in her car. It was midnight. The two-lane highway was desolate.
Her Impala struck a deer. It wasn't just a deer. It was an animal about the size of a subtropical continent. Her car spun. The automobile went into the opposite lane.
An oncoming vehicle struck her. She blacked out.
The next thing she remembers is a man helping her from the car. He lifted her out. He placed
her against the guardrail. “You’re going to be okay,” he said.
When the paramedics found her, she was asking where the man went. “Ma’am,” the EMTs explained, “Nobody travels this highway at this time of night.”
That’s when she looked at what used to be her car. It was a pile of soot. If she would have been inside, she would have been permanently checked into the Horizontal Hilton.
And here’s another. The man worked at a commercial factory. He was overseeing huge production machines. And when one of the machines started acting up, one of his workers, a young woman, tried to fix the mechanical problem herself.
The employee had her arm inside the machine when one of the hydraulic levers pinned her arm inside the machine and was about to sever her limb.
The foreman was trying to help, so were…