Indholdsfortegnelse for Jan/Feb 2026 i Angels on Earth magazine

One of my favorite sections of Angels on Earth is the “Letters & Messages” department on page 64, where we share a handful of readers’ notes, often with a photo. Some people send short, stand-alone anecdotes, while others react to a specific story from a previous issue. Like a little postscript to tell of an idea sparked or a new connection made through Angels. Linda from Illinois read about a young Hot Wheels collector in Missouri. With our help, she connected with his mom online and sent off a limited-edition Hot Wheels motorcycle from a 2002 parade in Chicago. Marilyn in Colorado was too shy to talk about the comforting angels who sang over the knocking noise during her MRI—until she read that Kimberly in Tennessee heard violins, harps and…

Bedtime always included a family prayer at our house. I took my children’s hands in mine, and we gave thanks for all God had given us. Then we added our request: “God, please send your angels to watch over us as we sleep.” For my son, Josh, 10, and my daughter, Rachael, 8, that meant protection from any boogeyman who might be hiding in the closet or under the bed. Lately, for me, our request meant something more serious. I tucked the kids in and returned to my room, trying not to think about the real dangers in the world. I didn’t want to scare myself, but danger seemed closer than ever. Earlier that week, a crime had been committed in the neighborhood where we lived. It really had me…

For the first time in years, my wife, Kit, and I would spend Christmas on our own. The days leading up to December 25 usually had to do with some combination of shopping, cooking, packing, traveling or preparing for family to arrive at our house. It was going to be strange to have a Christmas that was all about us. Just the two of us. “What are we going to do with ourselves?” I asked Kit one morning in mid-December. “We’re resourceful,” Kit said. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.” In fact, we had a bucket list of outings we never seemed to have enough time for, and we filled our days with adventure. We took the ferry to Seattle and walked around admiring the decorations and window displays. We…

A holiday house tour in historic downtown Huntington should have been my cup of tea. Not that December. Health problems had finally gotten the better of me. I was avoiding people, cancelling plans, ignoring my decorations in the attic. I’d dragged myself downtown only because I felt guilty about wasting money on the ticket I’d paid for in advance. I looked at my watch. How much longer before this is over? Not just the tour, but Christmas itself! I stepped over the threshold of a grand Victorian as the owner welcomed the docent and our group to the final house on the tour. Thank goodness. I tuned out the history lesson and checked my phone when I felt it vibrate in my pocket. Another text from my brother, Robert,…

“For this is the miracle that happens every time to those who really love: The more they give, the more they possess.….”RAINER MARIA RILKE “Angels make the invisible power of love visible, guiding us toward acts of kindness and compassion.”MASON COOLEY “Prayer is not asking. It is a longing of the soul. It is a daily admission of one’s weakness. It is better in prayer to have a heart without words than words without a heart.”MAHATMA GANDHI “Valentine’s Day is a reminder of the power we each have on any given day to show love to anyone and everyone we may encounter.”JENNIFER FIELD “Neighbors are people who are close to us, and friends are people who are close to our hearts. I like to think of you as my neighbor…

This was not the first time a barred owl had appeared when I felt over-whelmed by my troubles, but this feathered messenger sat long enough for me to snap a photo. Psalm 102 came to mind: “Hear my prayer, Lord… Do not hide your face from me… Turn your ear to me…” As I admired the powerful creature looking down from the trees with all-knowing eyes, I was reminded that God too was sitting high above on his throne, watchful, majestic and mysterious, with me ever in his sights. Send your angelic photo stories to submissions@angelsonearth.org…

I was a strong and hopeful 22-year-old when I enrolled in Central Christian College of the Bible at Moberly, Missouri, in 1965. I had no scholarships, no rich uncles to pay my tuition, and I didn’t feel comfortable about taking federal aid, which first became available that year. Consequently, I had to earn my degree by working afternoons, weekends and summers. In retirement, I found myself thinking a lot about those days. I’d signed up for the school janitor position and soon discovered that cleaning was one of the hardest jobs I had ever done. I had to be a contortionist to reach all the nooks and crannies of the old brick building. By late afternoons, I was exhausted and sore all over. It was a lot to handle on…

“Did you bring your Barbie?” my friend Reba asked as soon as she opened the door to her house across the street. I showed her the pouch I was hiding behind my back and followed her down the hallway. We went to her bedroom, which she had all to herself. She didn’t have to share it with a sister like I did. Reba’s bedroom wasn’t the only thing I envied, even though I knew it was wrong. She had the new Twist ’n Turn Barbie, introduced in 1967. The doll could swivel at the waist and had bendable legs. Her wardrobe had a special carrying case. Reba was the luckiest girl I knew. I asked God to at least help me level the playing field with one of the Christmas…

Stood up on Valentine’s Day? Really? When Nathaniel, a guy I knew from work, asked me to meet him at a yummy Mexican restaurant for dinner, I secretly hoped our first date would be just the beginning. I’d been waiting at our table for an hour. I munched on the last of the chips and salsa. He’s obviously not coming. I had dinner alone, surrounded by couples celebrating romance. I couldn’t have felt more out of place. I don’t belong here, I thought. And I didn’t just mean the Mexican restaurant in St. Louis. I’d recently moved from Chicago, looking for a change, but I didn’t know how long I’d stay. I was living with my sister and working a temp job. Nothing about my life in St. Louis was…

i looked to my mother, Ellie, sitting next to me in the Mulberry Gardens dining room, hoping for some sign that she would be okay in what would be her new home. She hadn’t asked what she was doing here, with my dad, my sister and me sitting next to her. She hadn’t said anything really, and she’d hardly touched her food. It was her first day in the memory care unit, and she hadn’t yet slept in her room. The director had sent us off heartbroken that morning, assuring my sister Pam and me that the transition would be smoother if we didn’t linger. “Let your mother get acquainted with us on her own today,” she’d said. “Come back and join us for dinner.” After five years of caring…

Julia went to college only 30 minutes from home, but she was so busy that a mid-week mother-daughter lunch date was a rare treat. “So glad you had time for me today,” I said as we slid into a booth. “And after lunch, can we hit Walmart? My roommates and I want to decorate for Valentine’s Day.” “Sure!” Bonus time, and we’d make the best of it. Our waitress walked up and asked if we were ready to order. When she opened her notepad, a baby picture slipped out and fell onto the table. “Is this beautiful girl yours?” I asked. “How old is she, and what’s her name?” I handed the photo back. “All mine,” the waitress said. “Sophie. She’s 16 months.” I gestured across the booth. “This is…

More or Less What to get Morris for Valentine’s Day? Not chocolates; too fattening. I had a hard enough time keeping my husband away from the butter. Maybe I could get him a new pair of goggles for the pool. I was always reminding him that swimming was good for his arthritis. “When do I have time to swim?” he’d growl. “Don’t bug me.” I often left health newsletters on his desk too. He didn’t like that so much either. In fact, the more I nagged my husband, the less likely he was to do the things I thought he should do. Was my approach all wrong? An idea struck me: Well, shut my mouth. I’d promise not to nag Morris for a whole week! “You’re my valentine,” I wrote…

Playa Del Rey Beach was cold and rainy that Christmas morning. I was captivated by the overcast skies and whitecaps crashing onto shore, but I wasn’t surprised that most people chose to be warm inside with their families instead. Even the regulars who surfed at first light had packed up and gone home. I was there because I had a job to do, making the rounds on the windy beach with my fellow Los Angeles County lifeguard, Mike, behind the wheel of our patrol vehicle. You never knew when someone might need help, on any given day, at any given time. Lifeguards patrolled in trucks or on foot all winter long, our red swim trunks and white T-shirts underneath our khaki pants and heavy blue jackets lined with neoprene. A…

Five sets of webbed footprints beat a path through the snow in our yard. Each morning my ducks marched from the barn where they spent the night to the pond where they spent their days. “C’mon, ducks!” I called, urging them toward the water. One behind the other, they waddled in a straight line: first Willow, then Water Lily, followed by Sunny, Solomon and Squirt. I took the lead. The ducks had been a Mother’s Day present from my daughter. From the moment I peeked into the chirping box of ducklings and saw five fuzzy yellow heads, I was devoted to giving them the best life possible. I was the closest thing to a mother they knew, and the ducks grew up trusting me. They followed me around and responded…

LISA GUERNSEY BROOKLYN, NEW YORK I was one of the happy recipients of Homer Sewall III’s guardian angel coins, which he wrote about in the July/August 2025 issue. I couldn’t hoard all that goodness. With my artsy teenage son’s help, we made a sign that invited our community garden visitors to take an angel home with them. The only thing better than sharing our angel coins was seeing the smiles they brought to people’s faces. Thank you, Mr. Sewall! KATIE MARTIN DANBURY, NORTH CAROLINA A terrible car accident left me disabled more than 20 years ago. Since then, I have spent a lot of time in doctors’ offices, where I’ve met some exceptional people. Once, at a therapy appointment just before my birthday, I was telling the doctor’s assistant how…

There’s a joke among golden retriever owners: Our goldens shed twice a year, each time for six months. That’s not far from the truth. You golden owners know what I mean. Dark clothing? Not unless you carry a lint roller. I’d guess the average owner wears out more vacuum cleaners than the rest of society. Allergies? Break out the antihistamines. Think keeping them off the furniture will help? Good luck with that. My golden Gracie’s most voluminous shedding happens in early winter. It always alarms me. Big clumps of fur everywhere. In the sunlight streaming through a window on a winter morning I can see bits of her hair dancing on the air. Every year I convince myself the shedding is worse. Is it her thyroid? This January I took…