When Angels Come To Play by M.J. Louis - Read Online
When Angels Come To Play
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Summary

Is there any greater sadness than the loss of a child? As a pediatric nurse, I've experienced the sorrow of a youngsters passing. As a mother, I endured the heartache of my own son's near death experience. Yet despite the despair in all of these situations, I have seen firsthand the grace of God.

In When Angels Come to Play, I share the story of three children I was blessed with the opportunity to care for during their final days. After joining the staff of the Children's Hospital in New York City, I learned there is no greater opportune time to witness God's amazing grace than when angels come to call a young soul to play. I am sharing my story with readers as a mother and a nurse in the hopes that it brings the grieving parents and family, the distressed nurses, and the guilt-ridden doctors the gift of solace. Solace in knowing all is not lost when a young soul is set free to play.

Published: M.J. Louis on
ISBN: 9781311929440
List price: $2.99
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When Angels Come To Play - M.J. Louis

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story.

Foreword

As a general rule, religions acknowledge the existence of a human soul. Yet a true understanding of the soul has remained elusive to the majority of people. We grapple with the notion; if you can’t hear it, see it, or touch it, does it really exist?

We are taught that our soul is eternal. It lives on even after our physical form ceases to. But where does the soul go once the body expires?

Some say it goes straight to heaven or hell… some say it keeps coming back until you get it right … some even say a troubled soul stays Earth-bound and becomes what is commonly called a ghost.

If the soul of a child is thought to be pure, washed of Original Sin, what grace does God bestow upon it?

Playtime

I was raised in a staunch Roman Catholic household where disobeying one’s parents and not adhering to the Ten Commandments was enough to buy your soul a one-way ticket straight to hell… no matter how old you were. The teachings I received at home were reinforced daily by the priests and nuns of my elementary and high schools. But the educators of my youth did make exceptions for children - for it was believed God was a merciful God and would not damn the soul of a youngster, but instead, send it to purgatory or limbo for a temporary stay until He decided what to do with it.

As the years passed and adulthood cynicism set in, the teachings of my youth fell to the wayside and left a void where certainty once filled. As I hit the milestone of motherhood, the uncertainty of the fate of the souls of my children manifested into an unwavering fear of death.

In an attempt to find redemption for my soul and salvation for those of my children, I spent years exploring every major religion along with some minor ones for answers my family and Catholic schoolteachers didn’t and couldn’t provide. All of that soul searching only served to throw me into an existential crisis.

My crisis of the soul shifted into a state of abject fear and anger towards God when at the age of eight months my son suffered his first of many grand mal seizures. My anger and fear grew with every convulsion. Coming to grips with the notion that my innocent baby boy was one bad seizure away from being doomed to the barren wasteland of Purgatory was too much for this young mom to bear.

After nearly two years of shouldering the burden of a sick child, being a fulltime nursing student, and at that time facing the demise of my marriage, the anger and fear turned into anguish. Having bore witness to my descent into utter despair, a childhood friend took pity on me and invited me to a weekly meditation group she attended in the hopes of bringing me out of my funk. I begrudgingly went along.

We arrived fashionably late and slinked our way into two empty seats in the back of room. We hoped to go unnoticed, but the group leader, Rosanna, called us out.

The attractive, boisterous, middle-aged Italian woman welcomed my BFF, Ana, back and invited me to introduce myself and state my reason for joining the group. I muttered my name, Maryse, but I graciously declined divulging my reason for attending. She nodded with a knowing smile then proceeded to lead us into a relaxed state with some deep breathing exercises.

For the first time in a long time, the endless scenes of brimstone and fire that constantly played in my head were quelled. Slowly but surely, the group leader’s guiding voice led me down a path of relaxation and surrender, allowing my angst to fade. My mind was momentarily quieted for the first time in years. I felt free from anger, free from pain, and open to what the Universe had to teach me.

Each one of you has his or her own personal reason for being here. Look within your heart and be honest with yourselves… now, release it into the Universe. Let the Universe help you understand and guide you, Rosanna instructed.

I had one reason and one reason only for being there. I wanted peace – peace of mind, peace of body, and peace of spirit. I asked over and over and over again - Grant me peace.

I nearly jumped out of my seat when I felt a hand on my right shoulder. Now, let it go and you will get your answer, Rosanna whispered.

I felt as if I was immediately awoken from a deep