35: Whispering Angel

35: Whispering Angel

From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Miracles and More

Whispering Angel

The guardian angels of life sometimes fly so high as to be beyond our sight, but they are always looking down upon us.

~Jean-Paul Richter

I was twelve years old and sitting at the dinner table on a balmy, summer evening with my mother, father, and two younger brothers. There were dinnertime rules at my house when I was growing up. I was supposed to eat everything on my plate and then ask to be excused from the table.

As I took a bite of meat from my pork chop, a tiny voice seemed to whisper into my ear: Take that pork-chop bone to Reds.

Reds was a large Irish Setter mix who had become the neighborhood dog. He didn’t seem to belong to anyone, but he lumbered into many of our yards and porches on a daily basis for love and handouts. I had no way of knowing whether or not Reds was in our yard at the time. Yet the voice was insistent.

Take the bone to Reds… NOW, the voice whispered.

There was instant conflict inside my young head as to whether or not I should risk the consequences of getting up from the table before my plate was empty.

Yet the voice continued, urging me to get up at that instant and go out the back door to the porch and look for Reds.

Pushing back my chair despite my parents’ surprised expressions, I walked through the kitchen and out the back door. I did not see Reds on the porch — but what I did see was fire! Our garage, which was about twenty feet away, was ablaze.

“Mom! Dad!” I yelled as I rushed back into the kitchen, pork chop in hand. “Call the fire department NOW — the garage is on fire!”

It seems that one of my brothers had engaged in an altercation with some older boys in the neighborhood that day, and they had threatened to “get even.” Although the boys never admitted to it despite a police investigation, we believe they poured kerosene around the walls of the garage and set it on fire.

My father’s car that was parked inside was not damaged because we were lucky enough to live two blocks from the fire station, and the fire was extinguished in time.

What was the whispering voice that told me to get up from the table and go outside? I will never know for sure, but I will always believe it was my guardian angel. I felt such a strong push to leave the table and risk my parents’ reprimands, and that was very unusual for me.

That blaze could have spread, my father’s car could have exploded, and our house could have been next. But that did not happen… all because of a whispering angel.

~Beverly F. Walker

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