by Lorna Byrne
I called out 'Paul', and he looked up, gave me a big smile and ran towards me with his bike. He dropped it on the ground and asked could he help. 'Yes, you're a little late,' I replied, laughingly. I went around to the shed to get another paintbrush, leaving Paul standing at the gate. As I went around to the back of the cottage I was asking the angels, 'What is wrong?' No angels appeared, but many spoke simultaneously as if with one voice. 'All you need to do Lorna is spend time with Paul. Listen to him.'
'That's no problem,' I said. 'I hope I can find a paintbrush for him.'
I did. As I went back round the side of the cottage, I saw Paul standing anxiously at the gate, waiting for me. He was glowing now, shining bright and I couldn't understand what made him shine so brightly now, when a few minutes before the light was so dim. I could see he was happy and I was delighted. We painted the gate together and Paul laughed and joked, chatting all the time. He mentioned that it was his birthday the week after next.
When it was time to go, Paul went off on his bike and, as I watched him cycle away, I could see the four angels running with him again. It looked so comical and I smiled to myself. The four angels' clothing appeared to be long and loose; they ran so elegantly and they seemed to bounce lightly, like bubbles full of hot air. They were watery amber in colour and they shone gently, a little like light shining on water. To look at them was very soothing on my eyes.When I could no longer see Paul or his angels, I walked back in through the gate and around to the sheds. I called my own angels and asked would they tell me about Paul, but they did not reply.
Paul was on my mind constantly. The next day, I went for a walk on my own up the lane, not far from the cottage. I stopped at a gate into a field and I called on my angels. I thought they were not listening and, as I turned around to walk on further down the lane, Angel Elijah appeared, saying, 'Where are you going Lorna? Come back here.'
'It's about time,' I said, 'Where have you angels been?'
'Lorna, we have been here all the time with you,' Elijah replied.
'Angel Elijah. I am worried about a young boy called Paul. I know something is wrong.'
'Lorna,' said Elijah, 'all that is needed from you is to be with Paul.'
'Elijah, I am afraid for him,' I said. 'Why do I feel fear? He is such a beautiful child.'
'Lorna, in some cases angels are given the job of trying, if possible, to change the future of a particular individual or group. That's what we are trying to do for this child. We are whispering to many people, asking them to play a part; but only a few are listening and that might not be enough. You are a lifeline for Paul at the moment; you are one of the reasons why he is still here. You always listen, Lorna. Now go out to work on the gate and we will get Paul to call over to you and talk and laugh and have fun.'
'Can you not tell me any more, Elijah?' I begged.
'No, Lorna. You alone can't change his future. Other people have to play their part too.'
This was a time, and I see many of them, when a series of small events can build together into a big one. This is why when the angels prompt you to do something small, such as smile at someone or tell someone that they've done good work, however inconsequential it seems to be at the time – you should do it! Apparently inconsequential things could turn out to be vital in the bigger scheme of things.
Every time I went out to do more work on the gate, Paul would arrive. No matter what time of day it would be – morning, late afternoon or in the evening – he always appeared to help. He asked me would I invite Christopher to go fishing with him on his birthday. I told him that I was sure that Christopher would be happy to do that, but it would have to be Sunday – the day after Paul's birthday – as Christopher worked in a coal and horse yard on Saturdays. Paul said that the plan was that all his family would be going. He was very excited. He thanked me for letting Christopher go with them and I told him I was putting him in charge of Christopher, to mind him and make sure that he got back home safely, and to catch plenty of fish so that I could cook it for tea on Monday. Paul laughed and said he would do his best.
When Christopher got home from school that day I told him about the invitation to Paul's birthday. Christopher was delighted and got his fishing gear ready and left it in the hall in anticipation. The next time I was out painting the gate, Paul arrived. It was only a few days to his birthday and he was so excited. We painted and Paul went home, happy. I watched him as he cycled down the road. I saw no change in his angels; they were so close to him, protecting him, ready to catch him.
I never saw Paul again. A day or two later, Christopher turned the key in the hall door and came into the kitchen. He was extremely upset and before he said a word I knew it was about Paul. 'Mum, Paul died this morning. There was a tragic accident. I can't believe it. We were to go fishing for his birthday; let's call over to Paul's house, Mum.'
I was devastated; it seemed so unfair. I comforted Christopher and gave him a big hug. I told him we needed to give his parents a little time before we could call over.
The following evening Christopher and I went over to Paul's house; there were people coming and going. Paul's dad spoke with Christopher for a few minutes after we had a cup of tea. Then we said our goodbyes and walked home. As we walked Christopher said, 'Mum, it felt so strange, Paul not being there; the house seemed so empty. I will always miss Paul.'
I know those four beautiful angels of Paul's took him straight to Heaven with his fishing rod and fishing bag tied onto the back carrier of his bicycle. I know Paul is doing a lot of fishing in Heaven.
Perhaps six months after Paul's death, on one of those increasingly rare occasions when Joe was feeling well enough to get up, Christopher, now aged fifteen, and Joe went into Dublin to meet an old friend of Joe's in a pub in the city centre. Christopher told me that the pub was dark and packed, with lots of noise. Christopher stood close to his dad, as people in the pub were getting very rowdy. His dad met his friend and the three of them started to walk back through the crowd to the door.
Someone pushed someone and a fight started. Christopher said he was scared. Some men followed them out onto the street and started to look for a fight: one had a broken bottle in his hand. Joe told the men they were not looking for a fight, that he was just meeting a friend, and they kept on walking. Suddenly, the men started to push them. Christopher said he was really scared. All of a sudden, he felt the strong presence of Paul. Christopher told me, 'Mum, I'm sure he was there. It was as if Paul was there, really there, like you and me. He pushed those men back and pushed us forward. I could feel Paul protecting me and Dad. I was never so scared in my life of those men from the pub, but when I felt Paul's presence I knew we would be safe.'
I told Christopher to remember that Paul would always be there when he needed his protection. Many times I have thought of Paul over the years, and I thank him for protecting Christopher for me. I thank him for remembering that I asked him to keep Christopher safe.
Every day when I came back from doing the shopping, I would take Joe a cup of tea and sit beside him to chat. One day, Joe had a story to tell me. Joe's guardian angel sat right next to him and there were lots of angels sitting on the bed, looking in Joe's direction and waiting to hear what he would say.
'Lorna, you won't believe it,' he said, 'Today, when you were out, a little child, a spirit, came skipping into the room. She was about three years old with long, light brown tossed hair. She looked dirty, as if she had been playing in the mud and had mud cakes in her hands. She stood right there where you are sitting and she said, "Dad, play with me." Then she turned around and skipped out of the room.'
I was delighted, but very surprised! I knew what this meant. We were going to have another child. We'd always wanted another child, but Ruth was now about twelve and with Joe's health it was the last thing I expected. It was a miracle. I thanked God and my angels.
Joe had never seen a spirit before. It was as if God and the angels were allowing him to see more, helping him to understand that h
e was more than just a body.
I didn't tell Joe straight away that seeing this spirit meant we would have a new daughter, I just let him bask in the delight he felt about this beautiful little spirit. 'Why did she call me Daddy?' he asked in wonder.
I saw this little spirit before I was even pregnant. She was exactly as Joe had described. On one occasion, I was in the kitchen making tea for Joe and as I was carrying the tray out the kitchen door, this little thing, that little girl, skipped out the door of the dining room. She looked so beautiful, and then she just disappeared.When I opened the door to the bedroom, the first thing Joe said was that the little girl had been here again, calling him Daddy and asking him to play with her.
This time I told Joe what this meant: that God was sending us another daughter. Joe found this very hard to believe. 'God would have to pour an awful lot of essential life into me, to let me father a child. That would need a real miracle!'
But shortly afterwards I discovered I was pregnant.
One day I was standing in front of the mirror. Angels appeared around me as well as a golden light. Then I saw the energy of life spinning in my tummy – all colours: emerald blues, emerald green, emerald red, emerald purple – and the swirl opened up and I could see the little baby, like a speck of dust. The sight filled me with emotion and love for my unborn child.
There was a gap of twelve years since Ruth's birth and the idea of being pregnant again took some getting used to. I had given away everything that a mother would need for a baby, so the angels had a lot of work to do to help – a lot of whispering in people's ears. But by the time my baby, Megan, was born, I had everything that was needed for a new baby and I was very thankful to the angels and all who had listened to them.
Sometimes it is clear to me that the angels have been working very hard. That Christmas, we had little money again. One evening just before Christmas, we were sitting at the kitchen table having dinner when a knock came on the door. Christopher went to answer it then came back in, helping a strange man to carry an enormous box.
Christopher introduced the man as Father Tom, one of the priests at his school. Father Tom said, 'I hope you don't think that I am intruding on your privacy. The home economics class agreed that I could give all their Christmas baking to a family in Maynooth and I heard you could do with it. On Christmas Eve, I'll be back with a cooked turkey and ham. Don't worry. No one in the class knows where the food is going. That's why I came on my own, and I was hoping Christopher would be here to help me carry the box in.'
I thanked him and invited him to have a cup of tea. As I made the tea, Father Tom, Joe and the children started to take the food out of the box. There was everything you could think of; there was so much food, all of it home baked. I couldn't believe it. I made the tea, and thanked God and the angels. As I handed Father Tom a cup of tea and sliced up one of the delicious apple tarts, I glanced at my children, seeing the light in their eyes. I turned to Father Tom and asked, 'How did you know?'
Father Tom said he had just heard there were difficulties, but he knew no more than that. I looked across the table at Joe; he shook his head. I knew he didn't want to tell Father Tom the extent of his sickness. 'Thank you for listening to your angels,' I said, 'And thank your home economics class on our behalf, for bringing this abundance to our home.'
On Christmas Eve, Father Tom arrived at our home with the biggest turkey I have ever seen, as well as a wonderful ham. Sitting at the fire that Christmas, Joe turned tome and said that he was ashamed because he could not provide properly for me and the children. I looked at him and said, 'It's not your fault that you have been so sick over the years.' I tried to comfort him. 'You didn't go out to get sick. It makes no sense to talk that way.'
Joe had said this many times before, and it's something that has been said to me frequently over the years by people who are ill. Although it is through no fault of their own, they feel ashamed; a nuisance and a burden to their families. Sometimes I would say to Joe, 'Why are you so cross today?' and he would say, 'I'm not cross with you or the children, I am cross with myself for being ill, for not being able to look after you and the children properly. I can do nothing.'
I smiled at Joe as we sat by the fire that Christmas and reassured him. 'When you are feeling well, you work in the garden until you nearly collapse and, when you can, you clean the kitchen, which is great to find when I come home from the shops. You do all you can do. Your children and I love you very much.'
Chapter Twenty-five
Michael tells me who he really is
One evening I was feeling weighed down and burdened. I was constantly in prayer, asking God for miracles to help people who had asked me for help. It was late, the house was very quiet, the children were sleeping and I was heading for bed, leaving Joe drinking a cup of tea by the fire. I turned on the lamp on the little dressing table by Joe's side of the bed and got into bed. I sat with pillows behind me, my knees up and my face in my hands, praying.
I don't know how long I was in prayer when I heard my name being called. Standing there, on the other side of the bed, beside the lamp, was Angel Michael. He was as radiant as ever, but he looked different.
Angel Michael dresses in a way that fits with what he is communicating – this way he helps me to understand his messages more. This evening he looked like a prince. He wore a golden crown and a robe of white and gold, which was tied at the waist with a gold and black belt but which was draped loosely over him and fell to above his knees. In his hand he held a scroll. His hair was shoulder length and flowed as if there were a gentle wind. As always, his sapphire blue eyes were radiant and he had a smile of Heaven. On his feet he wore thonged sandals which crisscrossed up his legs, and on the top of each foot was a golden crucifix. He shone with an incredibly bright light.
'Lorna, God hears all your prayers,' Michael said. 'Get a pen and paper out of the drawer. I have a message for you: a prayer from God.'
I did as Michael said, and as I sat up in the bed with the pen and paper in my hand, Michael opened a scroll and read out these words:
'Prayer of Thy Healing Angels, That is carried from God by Michael, Thy Archangel. Pour out, Thy Healing Angels, Thy Heavenly Host upon me, And upon those that I love, Let me feel the beam of Thy Healing Angels upon me, The light of Your Healing Hands. I will let Thy Healing begin, Whatever way God grants it, Amen.'
When Michael had finished reading the scroll, I asked him to read it again, but a little more slowly as I was having difficulty writing it down. I found the language a little strange. It wasn't the sort of language I was used to, but this was how it was given to me. The Angel Michael smiled at me then reached out and touched my forehead with one of his fingers. 'Write now, Lorna,' he said.
As the Angel Michael read the prayer from the scroll again, I found I had no problem writing down every word of the prayer. The words above are exactly the words I was given, even if they don't sound quite right to us. Michael said, 'Give this prayer to everyone who comes to see you. It has been given to you by God.'
I thanked Michael and God on my own behalf, and on behalf of all who would benefit from this prayer.
Michael bowed his head and disappeared.
From the very first time I had seen Michael, in the bedroom in Old Kilmainham all those years ago, I had known he was different; that he was a very powerful force, more powerful than most other angels. When I was about fourteen, he had told me that he was an Archangel, but that I wasn't to reveal it to anyone. It was only on this night, when he gave me the prayer from God to share and he told me to write: 'That is carried from God by Michael, Thy Archangel', that I knew I could talk about him in this way.
Sometimes when Michael the Archangel appears he gleams like the sun, almost as if he were standing in the centre of the sun. At these moments he can almost blind me with light and I have to ask him to dim it. His brightness, his resemblance to the light of the sun shows that, like the sun, Michael is a powerful force beyond our comprehension and that, l
ike the sun he is giving our planet life itself.
Michael has told me that archangels are like generals among the angels: they have power over angels and souls, and all angels obey them. They send angels to all parts of the universe to do God's will and carry His messages.
There are many archangels, many more than are traditionally spoken of, and Michael is one of the most powerful. As Michael is the Archangel of the Sun, Gabriel is the Archangel of the Moon. All archangels are in union with each other: the angels surround God as He sits on His throne and are a very powerful force, defending the Heavens and keeping in line the ongoing process of creation.
The next day I told Joe that Michael the Archangel had given me a prayer from God. He started to write it out on sheets of paper so that I could give it to people who came looking for help. Later a friend offered to have printed copies made for me. To this day, I still give that prayer to everyone who asks for my help and many people have told me that the 'healing angels' have helped in response to the prayer.
All angels do healing work, but there is a particular group of angels called 'Healing Angels' which are called in by guardian angels when healing is required. There are literally millions of Healing Angels; in all shapes, sizes and forms, and God is pouring Healing Angels on the world all the time. All we have to do is ask for their help.
We must always remember that the healing will happen in the way that God knows is best for us. Sometimes we may not recognise that healing has occurred as it may not have been the healing we asked for – it may be emotional or spiritual healing, rather than physical. We need to watch out for healing and recognise when it has been granted. Often healing can seem small, perhaps somebody who has been depressed for a long time smiles or laughs; maybe someone who was in a lot of physical distress feels a lot better, or maybe a mother who has been stressed out and unable to cope suddenly feels happiness and joy.
