When my father died, my mom went angel crazy. She had angel figurines, angel earrings, and a growing collection of angels peering out from paintings. Angels showed up in every nook and cranny of her house, on her coffee cups, on her toothbrush holder. She created a white see-through canopy over her bed that reached up to the ceiling; all fluttering and soft like angel wings. I wondered if she was halfway to my dad in the company of angels. I wasn’t worried, thankfully, I didn’t think she was leaving the planet, it made perfect sense to me. Anyone witnessing a 44-year-old widow grapple with the excruciating pain of having to stay here on Earth would understand. So when angels were dripping and flapping and present in every corner of her life, we all said yes.
Yes to angels.
The night he crossed over, she said she felt him go. At 4 am she was sitting in the hospital's waiting room, wringing her hands with prayer for his lungs to stop filling and for the doctors to perform miracles. Suddenly he whooshed through her; his warmth, his smile, his essence. She imagined it was his way of reassuring her that he was ok but the 21 grams of his soul had left his body on that table, driving by her 21 grams in a salute of sorts, a soul kiss. This was the best he could do in the way of a hug, which without a body was suddenly an unmanageable affair. When the doctor came out to tell her the terrible news she had a calm look on her face; she knew he was gone. She said she had felt warmed by that momentary embrace, the dark nights and irreconcilable days would come later. I wonder if that experience initiated her into the realm of angels. Maybe he was already running that high, bright, harp-strumming vibration on his way out of here.
I don't remember when I started talking to angels exactly. Somewhere between one metaphysical adventure and another, someone suggested angel cards. For the uninitiated, angel cards are a deck akin to the Tarot but I find them super safe and warm feeling; no Towers or Death cards to tax your nervous system. At the time I thought “If you want to look like one of those crazy spiritual ladies wearing a glittering shawl with crystals in your pocket, roll with a pack of angel cards”. What’s odd is that I didn't judge my momma for her tiny angel inspiration cards served up in angel bowls. But for me, it felt like an overreach of my own domain. Who was I to talk to angels?
But. They are very good at what they do. Angels love to help. Ask them any question, any day - they bring the answer. This deck is one angel or another standing around in a helpful or curious pose, like ʻHay? What do you need? Oh, gosh of course, that is easy!” Once I asked the same question three times in a row and out of 44 cards, I pulled the exact same card three times. The same dang card! Even though I shuffled and shuffled making sure I gave the deck a chance to offer something new. And? It was spot on to the question I was asking. That’s relationship-building stuff; you know? I started to really trust that there was something profound and helpful that I was engaging with and that something - call it angels or luck or coincidence or I don’t know what - had my back.
Later, when I started doing readings for others, I found that the angels were right next to me, ready to swing into action. Sure, it’s possible to talk to your dead people, but they have limited info and may come along with the same bias and perspective fails they had when they were here on earth. Better to chat up the angels, cause they got god juice or some kind of all-access pass. I imagine when we go to the Angel deck it’s like going to a place where they are all gathered and giggling, looking like a Maxfield Parish painting drinking tea and tossing cards like kids with trading cards on the curb; sitting in their big magical angel robes with their big magical angel hair, whipping them from the sky to flutter and fly down to earth. I love their uncanny ability to precisely land the needed card in our outstretched hands and questioning hearts.
5 years after my father died, my mom met her next husband, my stepfather. Interestingly, we call him Angel Lenny. He got that nickname cause he’s got a giant heart and is of service to so many. I noticed in subsequent years after his arrival that my mom’s angels slipped away a bit; her canopy stopped flying, and there were fewer figurines afoot. Sure they can be spotted on her ears at times -a little glint and wink of silver wings appear under her hair - but the full press court angel crew is not around.
Perhaps our need is their call, we ask to hear our own questions and heart. I’m grateful for the way they move between worlds offering their tinkling and loving presence, taking some pressure off of friends and partners to be all the support, all of the time. I find if I just ask earnestly, the tiny miracle answers are incredible and accurate and so hard to believe that I often forget it almost immediately like my small mind can’t handle that large-sized miracle.
Today I’ve pulled this card for you; see what the Angels are winking at you about.
credit: Messages from Your Angels Oracle Cards