ETaR aU uC Red Eve Dee eer a NUL Sere} of the e g ° PoinsettiaGuay ONEARTH Angels on Earth, a bimonthly magazine from Guideposts, presents true stories about heavenly angels and humans who have played angelic roles in daily life. Guideposts President & CEO John Temple ‘SEND US 100 Reserve Road YOUR STORY jeune On Senior Lead Editor Colleen Hughes Ifyou've gota story like Danbury, CT 06810 ‘one you read here, Subscribers Creative Director Kayo Der Sarkissian send your manuscript in IF the Post Office alerts us an email to subrnissions et yeu eee By Editorial Team Morgan Beard, Meg Belviso, @angelsonearth.org. undeliverable, we have no further obligation _-—_Sabra Ciancanell, Sabrina Diaz, Kimberly Eins, our yg unless we receive a cor- Amanda Ericson, Celia M. Gibbons, Lisa Guernsey, Guideposts is a nonprofit rected. Ge a Jane Haertel, Jim Hinch, Kaylin Kaupish, organization, founded ene ri cra Ashley Lateef, Brett Leveridge, Carolyn Mandarano, by Ruth Stafford Peale and “Angels on Earth Evan Miller, Carolina Pichardo, Daisy T. Urgiles, Norman Vincent Peale eee ‘Amy We in 1948, that promotes makes its mailing lists my Wong, enitieeee avaiable to selected faith, hope and prayer in ‘companies. Ifyou ‘Art & Photo Team Kevin Eans, Beth Meyer, es ves. Whether prefer your name not ‘Andrew Nahem, Nicole White, Stephen Wilder eae ett a be released for this, nities, websites or publi- purpose, please let us Contributing Editors Peggy Frezon, Rick Hamlin, tions, we inspire kw by wnting to: ere Robes Messner, Giger Rue, Dire Sak, finial ‘Angelson Earth _Stephanie Thompson entertain and guide them: P.O. 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Bow 1051, Fert Ele, ON LZA 6C7, Angels on Earth ines but cannot be ressensble for unsshcted manuserpts.Emal manustipts to Anges on Earth at ubmissions@angelsonearth og, 2 ANGELS ON EARTH | NOV/DEC 2023DEBORAH ORY “Home for the holidays” is a beloved theme celebrated in Christmas songs and Hallmark movies where angels sometimes make it happen. It seems we'll do anything to spend the holidays with family, especially in today’s world, where we're often scattered from one another most of the year. The minute it gets cold in New York, I feel a primal need to be in the warm bosom of the ones love back home in New Orleans. That pull gave me pause while I considered Christ- mas this year. Did [really want to put myself through the travel hassle I'd just experienced in July? Or was it a good year to stay put, maybe catch the Rockettes at Radio City? My summer trip home was a travel nightmare! Stormy weather and two cancelled flights meant I’d get to New Orleans three days later than planned. I'd miss my own welcome home party! Even my mother suggested that maybe the July trip wasn’t meant to be. “Wait till Christmas,” she said. But half my heart was already in Louisiana, so I rebooked. Again. “T hope you're well-rested,” Mama said when she picked me up at Louis Armstrong Airport. “We have things to do, people to see!” My welcome home doberge cake was defrosted from my sister’s freezer. My brother threw an impromptu backyard bash, featuring my neph- ew’s School of Rock band. Mama started the dancing. We squeezed in ashrimp boil. For three days, we got up early and went to bed late. I saw all my siblings and their families. “I don’t know if I could have kept up with y'all for a whole week,” Mama said when she dropped me back off at the airport. We had a blast, the way only a family can. But I knew what it meant to brave Christmas travel. Was it really worth it to fly all the way home for the holidays? To deal with the has- sle? One hundred percent—with a little help from angels. 1 Ct. Hofer COLLEEN HUGHES, SENIOR LEAD EDITOR ANGELSONEARTH.ORG 3contents Features 6 12 14 18 22 41 44 Holiday Angels COMPILED BY PEGGY FREZON Message in a Stocking BY DONNA MORK REED Time to Be Grateful BY ANA ARREOLA MOORE Promise in the Stars BY DAVID WEISKIRCHER Warmth in the Manger BY LEAH VIDAL Life360 BY KIM BURTON Say Yes to Bless BY JUDY SPENCE Feed the Birds BY JUDITH ROGERS Pap’s Best Screwdriver BY ADA JEAN HOFFMAN Friendsgiving BY JULIE OSBORNE Power of the Poinsettia BY B.G. KELLEY ANGELS ON EARTH | NOV/DEC 2023zseae 50 Letting Silas Go Departments BY SARAH HICKNER 3 DOWN TO EARTH 54 “Taxi!” 17 THE COLLECTOR BY LAURA KAYE 21 ONLY HUMAN? 56 With Love From 31 LOST & FOUND Judy’s Kitchen BY DIANE STARK 59 Red Riding Hood 32 EARNING THEIR WINGS 49 HEAVEN'S MUSIC Won My Heart 53 ONAWING AND APRAYER BY ELIZABETH WAGONER 64 LETTERS & MESSAGES 62 Allthe Trimmings 66 PREVIEW FROM WALKING IN GRACE 2024 BY ROBERTA MESSNER 67 ANGEL SIGHTINGS ‘COVER ILLUSTRATION BY KIM EKDAHL ANGELSONEARTH.ORG 5joeaed | . Fy‘J ocd 0. * + Holiday Angels wee Sleuthing for Santa |= a school psychologist, so | always thought I'd be prepared for m Ve cose anything my own kids might throw at me. But when my daughter Scarlett turned 10 last year, she began asking questions | wasn't sure how to answer...questions that needed expert analysis. On Christmas morning, | was cleaning up after the gifts were opened and noticed Scarlett over by the cookies we'd left out for Santa. She was carefully putting the leftovers into a plastic bag, “What are you doing?” | asked. “I'm getting these to the police for DNA analysis,” she replied. I sup- posed the question “Is Santa real?” just wouldn't do. | volunteered to drive her to the local precinct, but Scarlett was too shy to take the items in person. Instead, we went to the post office and sent her Santa evidence on its way. About a month later, we were surprised by a press release announcing that our precinct had launched an investigation on the subject. Some reporters requested interviews with Scarlett! My shy girl didn’t hesitate to comply. The DNA tests were inconclusive, given that the authorities didn’t have ILLUSTRATION ay HOLLY MAGUIRE ANGELSONEARTH.ORG 7Santa's DNA on file for comparison. In the end, Scarlett—and everyone who heard about her story—agreed that the truth of Santa was not * in forensics but in the angelic joy he brings. “The police and the media wouldn’t have taken me seriously if there weren't actually something to investigate!” Scarlett declared. ALYSON DOUMATO, CUMBERLAND, RHODE ISLAND Unwelcome Guests hanksgiving was only two days away and, frankly, I was not iki forward to it. We were having just a small gathering. The problem was, one of the guests was difficult and in the past had hurt me. Yet I felt obligated to include this person. Ispent another restless night over it. When I finally drifted off, Iwas jarred awake by a horrible odor. Rotten eggs? Burning rubber? One step onto the enclosed porch made it clear. Skunk. From the window I spotted the culprits—two angry critters hissing and fighting right on my lawn! Apparently they didn't welcome each other's company any more than I was weleoming my company. The resulting pungent odor permeated my house. T opened the porch windows, but by morning it had done little to diffuse the smell. I had to make a greater effort. Af- ter some research, I found that vinegar could be the solution. I set out several bowlfuls. By the end of the day, the smell was nearly gone. At least Thanks- giving wouldn’t be ruined by smelly skunk spray. Maybe the holiday didn’t have to be ruined by my disgruntled mood, either. Those skunks reminded me how a little unpleasantness could spread through the whole house. Instead of feeling resentment, I vowed to put a greater effort into welcoming all my guests—even the difficult one. T would forgive, be gracious and keep the air fresh with kindness. Who'd have thought two stinky skunks would impart such a heavenly lesson? PEGGY FREZON, CONTRIBUTING EDITOR B ANGELS ON EARTH | NOV/DEC 2023+ All for Mom y 94-year-old mom, who'd wres- M tled with Alzheimer’s for 10 years, fell and broke her pelvis last April. This would be her first Christ- mas at the nursing home, so I was deter- mined to get our whole family together for a Christmas party in her honor. vy “ We scheduled the nursing home van to bring Mom out to our country home. We juggled dates to accommodate everyone’s schedules. And we planned a special dinner menu around all Mom’s favorites. After she'd eaten her fill of ham, green bean casserole and cherry pie, Mom sat in her wheelchair near the tree, surrounded by love. We all watched while she opened her gifts, happy to be the center of attention. Right before the van arrived to take her back to town, Mom motioned me over. I bent close. “What exactly is going on here?” she whispered in my ear. Inall my planning and cooking, I’d forgotten to tell Mom—our guest of honor—why we'd gathered! “We're celebrating Christ- mas, Mom, and we're celebrating you. I guess I forgot to tell you.” Mom laughed, her eyes brighter than the tree, and I had to laugh too. There was no end to the family’s teasing about my mistake. Five months later, angels accompanied Mom to heaven. I’m thankful that her final Christmas on earth was one we could all remember with lightness, even if it was at my expense. JEANETTE LEVELLIE, PARIS, ILLINOIS Christmas Had Other Plans y wife and I were expecting just another quiet Christmas last year. That Ml had become our routine. After all, we were past retirement age and had a nice, settled life. Or so we thought. Then we got a surprising call. Our granddaughter Angela asked if she could stop by and visit us on her ANGELSONEARTH.ORG 9drive home to Denver from college. “Of course!” we said. We hadn't seen Angela in ages. We hustled to greet her with open arms. Next, our son Brent called with his own surprise. He'd had some troubled years in his early adult life, and we weren't always in contact. Now he told us that the baby he and his first wife had long ago given up for adoption had come back into his life as an adult. His name was Brian, a grandchild we'd never met. Brian wanted to know if he and his wife, Roxanne, and their three-year-old son could come to meet us. So, that Christmas season found my wife and | happily sitting in our living room full of family, looking over old photo albums. Only angels could have orchestrated such a gathering. + On Christmas Day, we got even more good news. Roxanne was expecting another child—a new grandchild for Brent and another great- grandchild for us! I guess we know better than to expect a quiet holiday this year. And that’s just fine with my wife and me. CHARLES PAULSON, SUN CITY, ARIZONA Steve's Light Still Twinkles he counselor who led my grief support group [ss me how I was going to honor my late husband, Steve, on the second anniversary of his passing. That was a good question. Steve had died just before Christmas the year before, and the once-joyful season we'd shared had gone by me unnoticed. Christmas had been Steve's favorite holiday, and I knew he wouldn’t want me to let this one go by in sadness too. I paced the house, trying to come up with an idea. Somehow I had to find the holiday spirit of hope and love that Steve was so good at summoning. But how? On impulse, I opened the door to the large hallway closet, our Christmas closet. It a U WU was filled to the brim with winter village dis- 10 ANGELS ON EARTH | NOV/DEC 2023* plays, holiday wreaths, ornaments and bau- { bles. Our tree peeked out at me from way in } back. Every year Steve decorated the whole house, inside and out, all by himself. Could I do the same thing for him this year? All by myself? I pulled everything out of the closet and went to work. Soon the house looked like a Christ- mas wonderland. I felt a spark of excitement. The outside was going to be tough, though. I got all the lights out of the garage, unwound them and tested each string. I pulled and stretched and tussled to blanket the evergreen bushes with white lights like Steve always did. It wasn’t easy, but I got the job done by day’s end. Now for the last and most important step of all. The big finale. Steve would call me outside at dusk to check out his handiwork. “Squint your eyes,” he'd say, “and wateh the lights twinkle.” I stood in front of the house and squinted. The lights twinkled, and I knew I hadn’t done any of this all by myself. Steve's loving presence had guided me back to the joy of Christmas. PAM RAYNOR, POINT PLEASANT BORO, NEW JERSEY No Presents? No Way! recent Christmas season found my grown daughter and me tight on A cash, so we made a pact: no exchanging presents! But as the holiday drew closer, | found my resolve wavering. Out shopping one day, | came across a set of bath supplies in a beautiful golden box. It caught my eye, probably because it was something I'd get for myself. It wasn't too pricey, so | bought it. On Christmas Eve, my daughter was surprised to learn I'd broken our pact. But so had she! | gave her my gift first. She instantly recognized the golden packaging. “Are you ready for this, Mom?” she said. It was the same bath set she couldn't resist getting for me. JESSICA REED, WALTON, NEW YORK ANGELSONEARTH.ORG 11Messag e Stocke I'd done everything | could to make my ne marriage work, but maybe God expected more BY DONNA MORK REED, SAINT CHARLES, MISSOURI riage, throwing some clothes and my laptop into the car. I was too hurt, too tired, too devastated to pack up anything. I just wanted to get out of there. Now, waking up yet another Saturday morning on my air mattress, I looked around the empty apartment I’d rented and felt like a failure. Marriage was supposed to be a lifetime commitment. I’d done ev- erything I could to honor that prom- ise, but maybe God had expected more. Maybe I’d let him down. T'd pieced together part-time work to support myself. I was a long way from being able to furnish the place, but I guessed it was time to stop by j= out of my broken mar- 12 ANGELS ON EARTH | NOV/DEC 2023 the yard sales I'd seen advertised in the neighborhood. I wasn’t due at my job at the library for an hour. I dressed, neatened the air mat- tress and headed out into a crisp fall day—maybe one of the last yard sale weekends of the season. A few simple things for the apartment might be a step toward feeling normal again and maybe not so guilt-ridden. I turned onto a side street that connected a few subdivisions. Right away I spotted the first sale, mostly kids’ clothes, and kept going. The next looked too sparse for me to even. bother stopping. But the third seemed promising, so I pulled over behind a line of cars. I almost said a prayer toDILIP VISHWANAT find something, but then I thought. better of it. I had no business asking God for anything. ‘The tables were heaped with items. Asset of dishes fora few dollars! It was a start. I gathered them in my arms and moved to... Christmas decorations? Christmas was months away and ornaments weren't a pri- ority, but I picked through the box: a long strand of garland, silk poinset- tias, and a couple dozen ornaments, no two alike it seemed. The thought of a bare tree sitting in my empty apartment made me feel all the sadder. I paid the five dollars for the box and putit, along with my dishes, in the car. On my way to the library, I glanced at the box on the passen- ger seat. Did I really think a box of used Christmas orna- ments held any kind of answer? The only answer I wanted, the answer I longed for, was to know that God still loved me. “Are you even listening to me, God?” I whispered, coming close to tears as I parked. I needed a minute to collect my- self before going inside. I turned off the engine and looked again in the box. The contents had shifted. Now on top there was a rocking horse, ared cardinal, Baby Jesus ina manger, even an angel. I pulled out a miniature red and white felt stock- ing that had obviously been hand- made. A gift of love if ever there was one, Someone had taken great care to piece it together. A tiny bell sewn onto the trim jingled when I turned the stocking over to see the other side. Stitched on the front cuff was aname. My name. D-0-N-N-A. Yes, Someone had indeed taken great care to show me Twas loved. ANGELSONEARTH.ORG 13Trine tor Be HOW TO FEEL GRATITUDE every single day? With Thanksgiving approach- ing last year, I was determined to get better at doing just that. In the morn- ings, I meditated on scripture. In the evenings, I got out my journal and recorded what I’d been thankful for that day. The details were important. But this was the beginning of the busiest season of the year. I was al- ready looking ahead to Christmas and all I had to accomplish before then. By the end of the day, I'd usually forgotten half the things I’d wanted to write down in my journal. My husband, Larry, and I were driving to Tennessee to spend Thanks- giving with our son, Nathan, his fian- cée and her family. I had a long to-do list on the day before we got on the 14 ANGELS ON EARTH | NOV/DEC 2023 | wanted this Thanksgiving to really count BY ANA ARREOLA MOORE, GRANBURY, TEXAS road. For one thing, I wanted to shop for the ingredients for the three- bread stuffing I’d prepare. Every- thing had to be fresh. But first I had to finish putting away all the Thanks- giving decorations. They were all over the house. I wanted to come home toa blank slate so I could get ready for Christmas. I filled a box with the beautiful fall-colored silk flowers Lused every year. A good detail for my journal, I thought. I was grateful the flowers looked as good as new! “Where are you going with the fall flowers?” Larry asked when I passed him on my way to the attie. “Thanks- giving is still four days away.” “Tt will be time to decorate for Christmas when we get back,” I said, hustling by him. “As far as the houseis concerned, Thanksgiving is over.” “Ifyou say so,” Larry said. “Let me carry that box to the attic for you.” “No, thanks,” I called, already half- way there. “You'll slow me down.” I'd been in and out of the attic a thou- ILLUSTRATION BY DAN CRAIG sand times already. I barely had to think about sidestepping the trap door in its floor. It allowed a handy passageway to the garage when we put up a ladder. Since we'd never got- ten around to putting a lock on the ANGELSONEARTH.ORG 15trap door, we did have to remember to step around it in the attic. The next thing I knew, Iwas lying on the garage floor, my whole body screaming in pain. Larry knelt over me. “An ambulance is on the way,” he said. “Just hang on!” Iwas only dimly aware of what had happened until first responders loaded me onto a gurney. In all my rushing around, I’d made a foolish misstep. At the hospital, we learned that. my fall had resulted in nine broken ribs, a contusion on my left lung, and worst of all, a fractured vertebra that might require surgery. There would be no Thanksgiving road trip to Tennessee. It seemed I might be laid up for the entire holiday season. So much for being too busy. All I could do was pray for healing from my hospital bed. ‘We did get some good news the next day. I wouldn’t need back sur- gery. Despite my other injuries and aruined Thanksgiving, I wanted to leap with joy. I was simply overcome with gratitude. Everything else fell away. For a moment I hardly felt any pain. Thank you, God! If I'd had my journal, this would have made an amazing end-of-day entry. I didn’t want to ever forget the pure feeling of thankfulness above all else. “T’m not surprised by the news,” Larry said. “Just about everyone we 16 ANGELS ON EARTH | NOV/DEC 2023 know is praying for you to get better.” ‘Another wave of gratitude swept over me, again dulling the pain. Over the next four days, such waves of thankfulness became familiar, often bringing me to tears. I felt one each time a nurse helped me sit up in bed. When I was able to sit up myself. When X-rays showed my lung was healing. Or simply upon waking up in the morning. On Thanksgiving Day, an orderly wheeled the meal cart into my room. My dinner tray held a plate of dry turkey and plain mashed potatoes from the cafeteria. None of my three-bread stuffing. And yet, I don’t think I'd ever said a more passion- ate Thanksgiving grace than I did over that meal. In the quiet of my hospital room, with only the here and now to focus on, I learned what it felt like to be truly grateful for what Thad in the moment. I thought of it as practice for when I returned to my journal in the busy, real world. Iwas discharged late Thanks- giving night. At home, Larry offered to bring in some of the Christmas decorations from the attic. “Just tell me where you want them,” he said. “I know you were anxious to get them up.” There would be plenty of time for that. For me, it was still Thanks- giving. And it would be for a long time to come.hen my husband and I became empty nesters, our hearts broke a little. We decided to open the guest room in our Arizona home to friends, family, even a few strangers—anyone who needed a quiet place where broken hearts could heal. Eventually we built a pool in the backyard, and the contractors placed a heart-shaped stone with a large crack down its center in the rock waterfall. God seemed to have given his stamp of approval to our plan. From that day on, we referred to our guest room as the Heart Rock Café and Oasis. It was rarely empty. I began bringing home any heart-shaped rocks I found along my hike path and put them on display in our guest room. As the collection grew, I purchased ad- ditional stones with messages in- scribed on them, such as “Love,” “Create,” “Explore” and “For- give.” We encouraged our guests to take one of those touchstones asa reminder of their stay at our little retreat. Sometimes, they even added heart-shaped stones they'd found on their own. Vicki's heart-shaped finds are touchstones. My husband and I are now divorced, and I moved to a smaller house in Colorado. I brought with me a handful of stones from my collection to help ease the transition. These days, when I hike the nearby Rocky Mountain trails with my three granddaughters, I always point out any heart-shaped rocks I see along the way. Finding these touchstones of love con- tinues to bring my own heart joy. VICKI KUYPER, COLORADO SPRINGS, COLORADO ANGELSONEARTH.ORG 17My wife and | were eaipree eC eS Catrall eeU ey Ol eS eS EOP RAS Cuca Orlane. CNtwas the night before Christ- mas Eve. I quietly moved through the house adjusting the garland on the mantel, straight- ening the angel atop the tree, hang- ing the wreath I’d forgotten to put on the front door. My wife, Genie, had cancer, and I wanted the house to look as festive as possible for her. For me. Maybe if I got everything just right, it would feel like Christmas again. I looked to our three dogs for approval. Being herders, they knew order when they saw it. The yellow of the day faded into the oranges and blues of twilight, draw- ing my attention. I asked Genie if she wanted to take a drive. Maybe we needed to get out of the house and un- der the stars. Genie and I were run- ning out of Christmases. Every day together, every opportunity to expe- rience this season of peace and tran- quility, felt precious to me. I thought of how the wise men had found hope inastar that led them to the Christ Child. Did I dare imagine the heavens would hold some answer for us? But Genie felt up for more than a drive. “Let’s go out for Mexican food. Then we can ride through the neigh- borhoods and look at the lights.” We headed for the garage, the dogs following hopefully. “We'll take them ILLUSTRATION BY ALYSSA DE ASIS. with us,” Genie said. They were fami- ly too, and it felt more important than ever to stick together. Toad, our oldest, padded slowly to the car, followed by Pete and Maddie. On top of everything we were dealing with, Toad had been diagnosed with cancer as well, news Genie struggled with more than her own mortality. Dinner was fun and lifted our spir- its. Afterward, we drove in search of homes trimmed in twinkling lights. I couldn’t help but sneak a peek at the sky above. It was a bitterly cold night, the kind that makes the stars sharpen and turn to erystal. The moon was full, the evening breathtaking in its beauty. We coasted down a road that end- ed at a river. A band of seven or eight deer confidently stepped from a for- ested area to cross the street. Genie hollered, “Toad—look. Reindeer! Santa must be close.” From the rear of the car, Toad let loose with a happy grunt. She prob- ably knew they weren't reindeer, but a cold night with the stars so bright ean make ordinary things look magical. I drove until I came to a flat pas- ture bordering the river. I parked the car and noticed a small barn nearby. Anything farm-related triggered the dogs’ herding instincts, and within seconds they had led Genie and me to ANGELSONEARTH.ORG 19acorral surrounding the barn. Toad walked slower than the others. Nor- mally Pete and Maddie would have rushed ahead. But on this night, they met Toad’s and Genie’s slower pace. enie put her hand on Toad’s Gr ‘We watched in amaze- ment as two donkeys shuffled out from the barn, the full moon lighting their way. “Do you think this is how the Nativity scene looked?” Genie asked. I took it all in, perhaps taking Genie’s question too literally. “I don’t know if they had herding dogs back then,” I said. “But they had sheep and shep- herds to herd them. And Mary rode in ona donkey.” Thad to hand it to Genie—she raised an interesting point. Could this actually resemble that night in Bethlehem so long ago? There were no angels in the heavens singing, but there was an excite- ment to the moment, a feeling that anything was possible. A chill wind blew over us, so I wrapped Genie in my coat. Above, the sky stretched to places I could only dream of. “With so many stars out tonight, I don’t think anyone would mind if you made more than one wish,” I said. “T’m way ahead of you on that.” Ge- 20 ANGELS ON EARTH | Nov/DEC 2023, nie searched the sky. “Do you know where all our other dogs are?” We'd owned so many over the years; the memories of the joy they'd given us was never far from our minds. “You know me. I’m a cowboy, riding the range,” I said. “I never lose sight of the herd.” “Okay, Mr. Cowboy, where’s Ruby?” I pointed to a red star hang- ing just above the horizon. “Where's Wylie?” I pointed to a smaller, whiter star. “Jiggs?” I pointed to the single most prominent star in the sky. “and our dear Maggie?” I pointed to a twinkling star in the softest shade of yellow. Genie patted my arm. “You always know where everyone is.” “Like I said, I don’t lose sight of anyone.” “Hello, my doggies,” Genie said as she threw a warm kiss into the chilled sky. I imagined each dog catching her kiss in the heavens. She turned to Toad, Pete and Maddie. “My three wise men,” she said and kissed each one on the head. Then she kissed me. I knew I would never forget that kiss, this starry night, held in the heavens forever. I didn’t hear angels singing, but I felt them near. The stars had led Genie and me and our three wise men to Christmas everlasting. llhere’s one good thing about being on the road Christmas Day, I thought, driving from my parents’ house in Richmond, Virginia, back to Charlotte, North Carolina. No traffic. I'd barely seen another car on the interstate. Most people were home with their families. But I was a policewoman, new enough on the force that I didn’t get a choice of shifts. I'd managed to score some time off Christmas Eve, but I had to be back on duty tonight. My sergeant had made it clear: “Be here for roll call before the midnight shift.” Near the Carolina state line, my car coughed. First a hiccup, then a full-blown hack. I pulled off at the next exit. The engine died on the ramp. I got out and looked around. The service sta- tion down the road was closed. How would I find a tow truck on Christmas Day? Just then a blue El Camino approached on the interstate. I hadn’t seen one of those in years. The driver slowed and pulled off next to me. He rolled down his window. “I’m the mechanic. What seems to be the problem?” I couldn't believe my luck! In less than three minutes, the man popped the distributor cap, opened the points, cleaned the con- tacts and told me to start the engine. My car roared to life. “Thank you!” I said, offering him the money in my wallet. The man shook his head. “No charge on Christmas. Good thing Iwas in my shop when you called.” My eyes went wide. “I didn’t call.” “T guess the driver who did is farther down the interstate.” He got in his car and drove off to find her. Only after I had made it back to Charlotte—well before roll call—did it occur to me: I’d passed plenty of mile markers and ex- its farther down the interstate, but I never did see the disabled ear that had summoned the mechanic. ‘AMY BRADY, CHARLOTTE, NORTH CAROLINA ANGELSONEARTH.ORG22 ANGELS ON EARTH | Nov/DEC 2023,There was just one thing my Nativity set was missing BY LEAH VIDAL, NEW BRAUNFELS, TEXAS ne by one I arranged the figures of my new Nativity on the side table. I’d chosen the set be- cause it was similar in style to the one my family had when I was grow- ing up. But this set had the added bonus of an angel. How impatiently I used to wait for Dad to say it was time to get out our Nativity. Family tradition ruled that we decorate the tree first. Only after each ornament from the box labeled “Decoraciones de Navidad” was hung could I carefully unwrap the wooden stable and hand it to my dad. He was sort of the keeper of the Nativity. He picked the best spot for it under the tree, and the family gathered round to watch him sprinkle Spanish moss, straw and sawdust around the floor of the stable. Then we added the pieces. No matter how many times I watched the process, it never failed to transport me to that very first Christmas night. “Now we need to keep Baby Jesus warm,” Dad always said. He’d fashioned a triangle of twigs with a flickering orange bulb in the center. Asa child I could sit for hours, mesmerized by Dad’s handi- work. Often he sat with me, his arm around my shoulders. I felt warm too, just like Baby Jesus. I wanted to try to recreate the whole experience for my own family now that Dad had passed away. But the best I could do for the fire was a solid orange bulb. I stood the angel where she could watch over the scene and put the bulb under my triangle of twigs. I sighed in dis- appointment when I turned it on. Without the flicker, it was a sorry substitute for the one Dad created years ago. “Sorry, Dad—” The words had barely left my mouth when the orange bulb flickered ever so slightly. I checked that the plug was secure in the socket. Plugged and unplugged it, adjusted the cord, shifted some twigs. The hookup was safe, but the solid orange bulb con- tinued to flicker. I could almost feel Dad’s arms around me while I let the scene take me back to that first Christmas. The angel watched over Baby Jesus, warm in his crib, She watched over me, warm from my favorite Christmas memory of Dad, the keep- er of the Nativity. ANGELSONEARTH.ORG 23Atracker app used GPS and cellular technology to map the location of a daughter on the road. A circle of prayer kept her safe BY KIM BURTON, CHAMPLIN, MINNESOTA Kim Burton: Only two days until Christmas, and the weather felt like agift. Sixty degrees and no snow are rarities in South Dakota in Decem- ber. The whole family was outside. ‘We were at my parents’ house in Eureka, where we gathered every year from near and far to celebrate the holiday. More than a dozen of us were in the yard—my two sisters, as- sorted husbands and kids—laughing as Dad gave the granddaughters tractor-driving lessons. My daughter, Leah, was the only one missing. She was driving to Eure- ka on her own, after finishing up at the life insurance company where she worked outside of Minneapolis. She was 25, a veteran of Upper Midwest 24 ANGELS ON EARTH | Nov/DEC 2023, winters. I didn’t worry, especially not in this gorgeous weather. Even Mom and Dad, who obsessed over weather reports, hadn’t looked at the Weather Channel. Usually they fretted until everyone arrived safely. Twas the one who glanced at the weather in Minnesota the next morn- ing, when I knew Leah would be on. the road. Freezing temperatures and snow across the area, but also, in Minnesota, 60 mph winds. I didn’t want to distract her with a call while she was driving, but I checked the Life360 app that let me track the location of all my kids’ phones. It even showed me how fast they were driving. I saw that Leah was speed- ing along the interstate. ILLUSTRATION ey LULU DUBREUILLeah: Conditions were fine when I set out from Minneapolis. By the time I turned off the interstate and head- ed west toward South Dakota on two-lane Highway 28, the sky was dark and there were flurries. Soon the wind picked up and fat. flakes pelted the side of the car. Before I knew it, Iwas caught up in howling wind and driving snow. Visibility plummeted. I slowed but. didn’t dare stop in a whiteout to call Mom. I couldn’t take the chance that a semi coming from behind might plow right into me. At least Mom would know where I was if she checked the app. Terawled along. [reminded myself Thad a blanket and snow gear in the car, like you’re supposed to in winter. My anxiety mounted anyway. ‘A powerful gust almost pushed me off the road. I gripped the wheel and fought to keep from panicking. What if an approaching car lost control and rammed into me? What if anoth- er gust pushed me into a snowdrift. and I couldn't get out? I felt around the passenger seat for my Michael Bublé Christmas CD. I put it in and let the music wash over me, reminding me of God's ever- present love for me. Be with me now. 26 ANGELS ON EARTH | Nov/DEC 2023, Seasoned drivers Kim and her daughter, Leah ‘im: Just to be sure Leah’s drive was going as planned, I again pulled out my phone while we were mak- ing lunch in the kitchen. I checked Life360. Uh-oh. Leah had slowed to 36 miles an hour. “Hey, everyone,” Isaid. “Leah's on her way, but it looks like she ran into a blizzard.” “Twas afraid of that,” Mom said. We gathered around my phone in the kitchen. Leah slowed to 17 miles an hour. We all looked at one another. Leah was a good driver, but driving under these conditions was no joke. [hoped she had plenty of gas, a blanket and snow gear. God, send an angel to guard her. Leah: I couldn’t see the highway past the hood of my car. My wind- shield was a field of white. I eased to the right until my tires met the rumble strip on the shoulder of the road. As long as I heard that rum- ble, [knew I was still on the highway. Just keep going, I told myself. Don’t panic. The snow momentarily parted, and I saw a turnout ahead. I eased the car over and sat there with the engine idling and the heater blasting. The temperature outside was way be- low zero. Gusts rocked the car.A text appeared from Mom. “You stopped. Everything okay?” “Whiteout,” I replied. “Stopped at a turnout to take a breather.” I didn’t want to keep driving, but Talso really had to go to the bathroom! I knew there was a town just ahead. I put the car in drive and rode the rumble strip again. Kim: When we sat down to the noon meal, Dad said grace. We asked for God’s travel mercies on Leah. We watched the phone and prayed as Leah's dot inched along toward the tiny town of Barry, but she didn't stop. Leah: I didn’t see any sign of a gas station at Barry. Only a few houses. The town of Beardsley was about eight miles ahead. I kept going at a snail’s pace. At last a sign appeared: “Beardsley, population 233.” And there was a church! Afraid that the car wouldn’t start again if I turned off the engine, I left it running and ran to the sanetuary door. Locked. Crestfallen, I backtracked to a res- taurant, Bobby Jo’s Café & Catering. Td passed it because the sign in the window said, “Closed.” A pickup was parked outside next to a semi. I tried the café door. It opened! I slipped inside and was enveloped by warmth. “Can I help you, dear?” a woman behind the counter said. “Restroom?” I sprinted to where she pointed. “Thank you,” I said, back at the counter. “T thought you were closed.” “We usually close at one,” the woman said. “Stayed late to finish up some catering orders. You on your way somewhere?” “I’m trying to get to my grandpar- ents’ house in South Dakota,” I said. “Just came from that direction,” the trucker said, looking up from his coffee. “I’d advise against it.” My heart sank. “T’m Mary,” the woman said. “You should stay in Beardsley tonight. I have a rental house in town, and I’m happy to put you up there.” Mary insisted. She sent me off with a frozen pizza and refused every effort I made to pay her for any of it. Safe at the house, I called Mom. “You'll never believe what happened,” I said, filling her in on the details. “We've been following you,” Mom said. “Tracking and praying.” Kim: We weren't the only ones watch- ing over Leah. Skies were clear for her the next morning. As she sped along Highway 28, I gave thanks for rumble strips, the kindness of strangers, our family—and the angels who made sure Leah would make it to Eureka in time for the Christmas Eve service. ANGELSONEARTH.ORG 27Say Yes to Bless Call me stubborn, but | was determined not to be an imposition on anyone BY JUDY SPENCE, OKLAHOMA CITY, OKLAHOMA mas pajamas,” said my daughter Stephanie on the phone. “We'll take pictures!” This was a selling point? Stephanie had called me a cou- ple days earlier to invite me to spend the night with her family on Christmas Eve. She'd tried to lure me with ap- ple cider, a holiday movie, waking up to presents under the tree. I’d al- ready told her no. Same as I’d done the year before. “T have enough pajamas, and I cer- tainly don’t want pictures of me in my PJs ending up on Facebook,” I said. “Besides, I refuse to be a burden.” My husband had passed away in September of last year. That Christ- mas, I'd explained to Stephanie that Tliked sleeping in my own bed and would come by in the afternoon, the way my husband and I always had. Why should it be any different now that I was a widow? T ‘m ordering matching Christ- 28 ANGELS ON EARTH | Nov/DEC 2023, I thought I would be fine, but it was harder than I'd imagined. I ate a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner and flipped the channels on the TV till I was tired enough to sleep. When I woke up on Christmas morning, I felt: like crying. Iwas miserable until I headed to Stephanie's that afternoon. Of course, I didn’t tell her any of that. I didn’t want pity. I didn’t want to bea burden. I preferred to struggle alone, rather than have someone help me out of obligation. Iwas ready to handle my emotions this Christmas. It wasn’t the first time I’d had to adapt to difficult change in my life. Stephanie's dad and I had divorced when she was six and her sister, Shel- by, was four. Being the head of the family in the sixties and seventies was sometimes scary, and I heavily re- lied on God. When we had needs, he sent angels. My sister picked up my daughters from dayeare and tookthem to dance lessons while I was at work. A neighbor mowed our lawn each week when he mowed his. My ex-mother-in-law invited my kids over on Saturdays so I could have time to myself. People showed up, and I eagerly accepted their help. But I wasn’t a young single mom anymore. I'd remarried once the girls were grown. I’d retired after 25 years asa manager at the phone company. Now my daughters were in their fifties. Shelby lived a thousand miles away in Arizona, and Stephanie's family had recently taken in my son-in-law’s 94-year-old grandmother. Plus, my Judy let her daughter Stephanie post this selfie on Facebook. granddaughter, Micah, was home from college. Their house would be full. The last thing I wanted was to put anyone out, even if it was just overnight. It might take a while, but I'd get used to spending Christmas Eve and Christmas morn- ing alone. My mind was made up. The week before Christ- mas, my cell phone sounded with a video call. Micah’s face filled the screen. She usually texted—was some- thing wrong? After a mo- ment of chitchat, she paused. “Grammy, remember when I was little, and we used to have sleepovers at your house? Will you come for a sleepover and spend Christmas Eve here with me?” “No,” I said gently. “Thanks for asking me, sweetheart, but I’ll just come over in the afternoon like I al- ways do.” “Mom told me you would say no...” Micah said softly. Guilt sprang up. “Let me think about it,” I said. I didn’t want to be harsh with my grand- daughter, even though I knew my ANGELSONEARTH.ORG 29daughter had put her up to calling. The day was unseasonably warm for December in Oklahoma. With my ear fresh from the ear wash, I de- cided to clean the inside windows. I grabbed the Windex. My across-the- street neighbor saw me in the drive- way and jogged over. “Let me do that!” he exclaimed. looked up and smiled. “No,” I said. “I'm perfectly eapable of doing it myself, thank you.” “T know you are,” he said, playfully reaching for the spray bottle. I pulled it to my chest. He looked me in the face, his eyes serious. “It’s days before Christmas, Judy. Don't rob me of the blessing of helping you.” “Don’t rob me of the pleasure of doing it myself,” I teased. He stood on the driveway and made small talk as he watched me finish the job. That evening, I pondered our ex- change. I knew I could be stubborn, and I did say no a lot. I'd turned down other holiday angels in my prideful show of independence. Before Thanks- giving, I’d waved away a teenaged sacker when he offered to load the groceries into my car. He'd shrugged his shoulders as he eyed the cane I used sometimes. My nephew had cau- tioned me to call him when it was time to change the air filters in my ceiling. Instead of bothering him, 30 ANGELS ON EARTH | NOV/DEC 2023 I'd lugged my eight-foot ladder in from the garage to do it myself. Not my smartest decision, to be sure. But was my neighbor right to say I’d robbed him of a blessing? That I was not only denying myself but him too? As if refusing help was the same as saying no to God. Rejecting his good- ness, his provisions and, yes, his blessings—on me and whoever was offering a kindness. That wouldn't do! Dear God, help me get comfort- able with saying yes. When Stephanie called the next day, I asked if the sleepover invitation was still open. We spent Christmas Eve eating appetizers and sipping ci- der while we watched It’s a Won- derful Life, all wearing our matching Buffalo-print pajamas. We posed for photos that Stephanie posted on Facebook. There was more than enough room, and I slept like a rock in the guest bed. Christmas morning, I was the first one awake. I tiptoed down the hall and started the coffee. Still in my gown, I held up my matching Buffalo- print mug, took a selfie and texted agreeting to my daughter in Arizona. “Waiting for the sleepyheads to wake up on Christmas morning!” In the stillness, I sat alone, thank- ing God that I never really was. Not as long as I said yes to angels and to him above all.ILLUSTRATION ay ciHRIS LYONS. ince 1782, the United States military has presented nearly two million Purple Heart medals to service members who were wounded or to their next of kin. Thousands of these medals have been lost, stolen or simply forgotten about in extenuating circumstances. In 2012, Army Major Zachariah Fike—himself a decorated com- bat veteran—realized the importance of returning these medals to their rightful owners. He founded Purple Hearts Reunited in response. The nonprofit organization has rescued medals from retirement homes, storage lockers, abandoned houses and old fur- niture. Often, people find medals and mail them to the organization in hopes that Major Fike and his team ean get them back home. This takes a lot of detective work. Volunteer sleuths from the Chicago Genealogical Society and the Genealogy Interest Group of the St. Andrew Society of Illinois scour hundreds of records. Finding a connection can take more than a year. When the original recipient or family member is located, Purple Hearts Reunited designs a shadow box to display the medal, and a representative travels to conduct a Return Ceremony in person. At the very least, any medal that makes its way to Purple Hearts Reunited is displayed with hon- or ina military museum. To date, Purple Hearts Reunited has returned more than 1,000 service medals at no cost to recipients. Major Fike has seen firsthand that these reunions provide comfort and closure to deserving heroes and their families. DIANE STARK, CONTRIBUTING EDITOR ANGELSONEARTH.ORG 31OT a AVAXHOME?ea Cea ac SCL a Ces Le eee ete rm ae ee eed Unlimited satisfaction one low price Cheap constant access to piping hot media Protect your downloadings from Big brother Safer, than torrent-trackers 18 years of seamless operation and our users' satisfaction PRE teers ETc Tam aimee tle ol T-eThe-) AvaxHome - Your End Place We have everything for all of your needs. Just open https://avxlive.icu| i Alexander and Andrea explore the Gyeongbokgung Palace in Seoul, South Korea, built in 1395. Blessings in the Blizzard ALEXANDER CAMPAGNA, BUFFALO, NEW YORK L* Christmas Eve, during a record-setting blizzard, my wife, Andrea, and I heard frantic knock- ing on our door. On our front porch stood two people asking for a shovel to dig out their van. I knew the storm would get worse, so I invited them in. They explained that they were part of a group of 10 tourists from. South Korea, traveling from Nia- gara Falls to Washington, D.C. We welcomed them all and gave them 32 ANGELS ON EARTH | NOV/DEC 2023 warm sweaters and dry socks. Then Andrea and I started digging out the sleeping bags and blowing up the air mattresses. Our guests were so grateful to be warm and dry that they offered to cook dinner. They made several Korean dishes, which we re- ally enjoyed. We traded stories and watched football. After two nights in our home, snowplows came through, and the group continued their trip. But it wasn’t goodbye forever. In May, we traveled to Seoul to visit and were treated like family. It was a friendship born in a blizzard. ‘THIS PAGE: DIANE KANG/THE NEW YORK TIMES/REDUX; OPPOSITE PAGE; BOTTOM: COURTESY CAMDEN COUNTY (N.)Gowns of Gratitude SEAN BRAY, CAMDEN, NEW JERSEY hen a bridal shop in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, closed abrupt- ly, there were hundreds of wedding gowns in inventory. Through a bank- ruptcy settlement, M&M Realty Partners ended up with the dresses and donated them to the county, stipulating that they must go to vet- erans. Camden County organized an all-day event called Salute the Dress, where 500 bridal gowns and special occasion dresses were given away. Each bride could select three dresses to try on with the help of a fashion consultant who added veils and other accessories. Several brides mentioned they'd had to postpone their nuptials because of their mili- tary service. Others had had small, simple ceremonies years ago, and now, because of Salute the Dress, were planning a special day to re- new their vows. A mix of tears and laughter filled the event as those who have sacri- ficed so much for our country were given a small token of thanks. Ahappy bride says yes to the dress. Sean and Maryanne deliver holiday cheer. Christmas Joy Grows on Trees MARYANNE McMAHON GRAND ISLAND, NEW YORK n 2013, my husband, Sean, and I met a family whose two children were battling cancer. When we heard the kids would spend the holidays in the hospital, we gave the family a Christmas tree to brighten their hos- pital room. While it didn’t change their situation, it did bring them hope and reminded them that people cared about them. The following year, we made giving away Christmas trees a real project. We ask the kids what they like—superheroes, cats, the beach, even Candy Land—and then decorate the tree with their chosen theme. When the children return home, they can take their tree with them. We also decorate the nurses’ stations, waiting rooms and other common areas. Last year, Sean and I decorated 40 Christmas trees to help make kids’ hospital rooms feel a little more like home. ANGELSONEARTH.ORG 33lee the B los It was a tradition Mom insisted on, no matter what BY JUDITH ROGERS, WESTERVILLE, OHIO wo days before Christmas in 1963, I went with my parents to I the grocery store to buy the few items we could afford for our holi- day dinner. I was a senior in high school, and by then I was used to my family having to stretch every penny. We were in aisle nine, my father trailing behind us, when I saw my mother pluck a three-pound bag of birdseed from the shelf and tuck it between the small roast and a bag of egg noodles in her cart. Ina flash, my father was beside us. “We are not buying birdseed when Thad to borrow money to feed my family!” He returned the bag to the 34 ANGELS ON EARTH | Nov/DEC 2023, shelf with a thump. T'd never known my father to borrow any money and knew it must have stung. My mother did not say a word. But she returned the birdseed to her shopping cart as my father looked on, exasperated. Dad was a generous man. So often I'd seen him help someone in need. But birds? I supposed he was draw- ing the line at birds.... Or did this mean that life had finally gotten the better of him? I was afraid he’d been knocked down so many times, he’d given up hope of ever getting on hisfeet again. He'd grown bitter and an- gry at the world. While still willing to help a neighbor when he could, Dad couldn't imagine others freely help- ing him. He would never want our family to be seen as an object of pity. An auto accident at the age of 17 had left him limping from a shattered ankle. The Depression killed his youthful dreams. He'd worked at U.S. Steel in Youngstown and MeDonald, ILLUSTRATION ay PHIL Ohio, near where we lived. Until he was laid off when I started the ninth grade, he gave his all to the danger- ous mill job. Dad hadn’t found steady work since. We all pitched in as best we could. We cleaned at the church; Mom took inironing, and I found after-school and Saturday jobs. It wasn’t enough. As Christmas approached four years after the layoff, our freezer, pantry ANGELSONEARTH.ORG 35and root cellar were empty. The bank was threatening foreclosure on the house. Desperate, Dad had borrowed grocery money from friends. Things had never been this bad. Mom was by no means a spend- thrift. Unlike Dad, she was an opti- mist. Most of all, she believed in the magic of Christmas, and the birdseed was crucial. We cel- ebrated the tradi- tions of Norway, where her mother was born. That in- cluded clearing snow and leaving a feast for the birds and critters: car- rots, celery, suet and a generous spread of birdseed. Christmas morning we'd watch them eat breakfast before sitting down to our Norwegian pudding, French toast, bacon, juice and hot chocolate— a breakfast that was out of reach this year. Mom promised to make the best roast and egg noodles for din- ner, and I believed her. Mom had made plenty of sacrifices of her own, but she too drew the line at the birds. “Our feathered friends must have their Christmas break- fast,” she said in the car on the way 36 ANGELS ON EARTH | NOV/DEC 2023 Judith with her children Lynn (left), Steven and Joy home. “Think of the joy we get from. watching them through the window, the joy in trusting that God always provides. He wants that for us, espe- cially at Christma: Dad let out a long sigh, but he seemed too defeated to argue. Bird- seed or not, I had my doubts that Mom’s optimistic spirit would pre- vail this year. We pulled into the driveway. Dad took one bag; I took the other, and Mom held the door. Dad limped into the kiteh- en and switched on the light. My eyes widened in amaze- ment. The kitchen was lined with large bags of sugar, potatoes and flour. Mom opened the refrigerator, which was now stocked with butter, ham- burger and fresh brown eggs. I read the note that had been left on the ta- ble. “Used the key in the garage. Sor- ry we missed you.” It was signed by my aunt and uncle, Elinor and Marv. We had occasionally picked sum- mer vegetables on their farm, but they'd never brought food to our house. “I’m as surprised as you are,” Mom said to Dad. She hummed a ear-