The Brush of Angels’ Wings

Do angels walk among us? Are angels the cute, little, and chubby cherubs,
armed with little bows and arrows that float on clouds?
When God created man, angels watched. When a lone man prayed in supplication
to God, an angel was sent to comfort and provide encouragement. Angels have
carried the message of prophecy and hope to man. When each single sinner
receives salvation, there is a shout in heaven and the angels rejoice. The
flight of angels is born on prayers (Judges 6:12; Genesis 19:15; Daniel 9:23; Luke
1:19; and Matthew 28:2-5).
As a young boy, my mother taught me the simple prayer:
“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should
die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.”
Every night, my mother would ensure that I not only recited this simple
prayer, but that I also prayed for my family, friends, and those in need.
What are words without action? As a boy, I would often pass my mother’s room
and hear her cries and prayers for her sons, family, and friends. When she
would exit her room, while her eyes would be red, her face would be aglow;
touched by God. I had no doubt that God heard her prayers.

When I was stricken with illness and lying in bed, my mother would grasp my
hand and offer silent prayers up to God. When unsaved family members and
friends seemed oblivious to the glories of salvation, my mother would take my
hand, and together we would pray. My mother would often receive calls from
people requesting prayer. Again, she would take my hand and together we would
pray, often for people we didn’t even know.
As an adult, when I ventured into the world, my mother hid tiny pieces of
paper in my bags, with these pieces citing scripture or simply saying, “I’m
praying for you.” The career that God directed me to follow has been one of
uncertainty and hazards. On sleepless nights, I would remember my mother, on
her knees, praying for me. While I knew that my mother was praying for me,
I would often call and ask for her prayers.
It is indescribable the comfort that came from hearing my mother whisper
those simple words, “I’m praying for you.” Throughout my life, whatever paths I
have traveled, I have known that my mother was praying for me.
Who prays for the praying? As my mother prays for me, I pray for her.
The distance that physically separates us is bridged, through our prayers, by an
angel’s wings.
I believe in angels. When I feel the wind gently caress my face, I imagine
that it is the brush of a heavenly angel’s wings. When I feel the brush of
angels’ wings, I hear the prayers of my mother. Any accomplishments that I’ve
achieved are as feathers from the wings of an angel, as a reminder that all
good things come from God.


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