An Angel’s Feather Lisa was just nine years old when she went through chemotherapy, but she remained charming and pleasant through it all. Lisa’s family had gone to church on and off her whole life, and one day the chaplain asked her about the poster hanging on her wall, the one she could see from her bed. “It’s an angel,” she said. “And what’s that?” asked the chaplain. “It’s like a messenger.” “is she your guardian angel?” “Yes.” “What is her name?” Lisa did not reply. “All you have to do is ask you angel what her name is,” the chaplain said. Still, Lisa said nothing. “How do people get guardian angels?” the chaplain asked. “Everyone has one,” Lisa replied. “You get one when you are born.” “How many of them are there?” “So many. When someone dies, they become a guardian angel for someone else.” She gave the chaplain an incredulous look as if to say, “Everyone knows that!” The next day the chaplain visited Lisa again. “How’s the angel?” he asked, meaning Lisa. But she replied in a whisper, “Her name is Elizabeth.” “How do you know?” “When I was little, I had a dream and I was playing with her. I knew her name was Elizabeth. So when I go to sleep, I always hope to play with her again.” The chaplain bought some large white feathers from a craft store. He took one to Lisa’s room and said “Lisa, your guardian angel must have been just outside the room. Look what she dropped.” He gave Lisa the feather. Lisa kept the feather with the poster right up to the day she was brought to the emergency room, where she suddenly and unexpectedly died. Every time that chaplain sees a feather, he thinks of Lisa. “I know she’s now playing with Elizabeth. And I have no doubt that she’s a guardian angel for someone.”
Posted on: Tue, 30 Jul 2013 14:14:53 +0000
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