Proof The Bible Is True

Just a few final touches and my paper was finished.  I glanced at the clock on the wall in the kitchen: 6 a.m. Just in time. I hit save and turned off the computer. “Kids!” I called. “Time to get dressed for school!”   Don’t yell, Kathryn! I reminded myself as I tiptoed past my bedroom door. You’ll wake up Bob. My husband was an accountant who’d just survived an especially hectic tax season. He needed his sleep.   Normally I didn’t mind keeping the house running and seeing to the children on my own this time of year, but [More]

Just a few more things to do on the computer before bed. I glanced down at my feet, expecting to see Mocha, our chocolate Lab. But the floor was empty. Mocha was gone.   For 12 years he’d been my constant companion. Although Mocha was “my dog,” Hazel, my wife, loved him just as much. Mocha and I played catch with a Frisbee and explored the woods near our rental house in Rockport, Massachusetts.   When I let Mocha off his lead in the woods he rushed around, sniffing everywhere, digging into the dirt and flinging himself into stinky vernal [More]

Maybe a 1986 Mercury station wagon wasn’t the best vehicle to drive across the Mojave Desert, but it was all I had. And I won’t have it for long, I thought as my engine coughed and sputtered. God, just let me make it to the next town.   I’d left my teaching job back in Colorado and was going to San Francisco to stay with my sister Joyce for a while. I packed my clothes, my books and my old guitar into the back of the Mercury and headed off.   I’d first taught myself to play folk music as [More]

The sky was blue, the sun was warm. A perfect summer day for hiking. Atop 13,507-foot Mount Ypsilon, where my husband, Wes, and I had just eaten a packed lunch of sandwiches, apples and fruitcake, the view extended for mile after glorious mile of snowcapped Rocky Mountain peaks.   It was Friday, the day Wes and I hiked together each week. Mount Ypsilon was one of our favorite routes. We’d climbed it at least three times in the 41 years we’d lived in Colorado, where Wes had taught geology at the University of Colorado and I’d worked as a nurse. [More]

Boxes filled the bedroom. We had only days to go before my daughter, J.J., and I had to move.   But I was having second thoughts. Downstairs, the front door slammed and J.J. called up to me. “Mama,” she said. “Guess what? I saw another angel today!”   I wasn’t too surprised. With all the time J.J. spent at the little church next door to our house, angel sightings had become a common occurrence.   Although she was an adult, J.J. had Down syndrome, so there weren’t many places she could go on her own. At our church, I knew [More]

That Friday in 2009 started like any other. Over the past several months, I’d developed a routine. I’d stay in my darkened bedroom as long as possible. When I gathered up enough energy, I’d scan the classifieds for jobs. There were none. Then I’d sit immobile for hours, staring at the wall, consumed by anxiety. Most days, that’s as far as I got. Walking to the mailbox took all of my energy—when I could force myself to do it. The yard went unmowed. I rarely took out the trash.   The fog of depression had begun to descend in late 2008. When [More]

Money was tight, and the wind was biting.   Icy winds whipping down Chicago’s Michigan Avenue went straight through my old black coat.   I turned up the collar. I need something warmer, I thought, glancing in the store windows.   But money was tight. The contractor we’d hired to remodel our home had walked off the job, taking our money with him. I was tired of pinching pennies because of it.   Maybe a new scarf would help fight the cold. I turned into a department store. Scarves of every color lined the displays, soft fabrics draped over racks and [More]

Maria’s church offered a healing mass every year for ill parishioners. And she was pleased when the ministry’s director asked her to sing at the service. Although she was a little unsure of her voice, she knew there would be other singers. So she accepted the invitation.   However, when she arrived for the mass, the director said, it’s just you and me today. Maria crumpled inside. She flipped open the music book to the chosen hymn, “Blessed Be the Lord.” and realized that she’d never seen it before. She felt hot, couldn’t concentrate.   Read/Watch: Everyday Angels: Hymns in [More]

Fran and her husband, Tom, parked on an isolated Nantucket beach. They wanted to watch the sunset.   When the light was gone, they decided to go back to their inn. Tom stepped on the gas. The tire spun in the sandy mud. Each attempt to get out made them sink deeper.   Pushing the car didn’t work either. They were very far from the main road. God, Fran asked, send someone our way.   Read/Watch: Stuck in the Mud – Guideposts

Hi. I’m Colleen Hughes, editor in chief of Angels on Earth. And here is a true story about an everyday angel from Carolyn Lake of Indianapolis, Indiana. Angels come to us every day, as a neighbor, an unexpected rescuer, a kind stranger, or a loyal pet. Listen now to a story of just such an everyday angel.   Carolyn’s daughter Vanessa had just graduated from Navy Nursing School when she got her orders for San Diego, 2,000 miles from home. Carolyn worried. Lord, she prayed, please send an angel to watch over Vanessa. Keep her safe. As soon as the [More]

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I would have given anything to take them back.   I looked at that youngster beside me in the car, pixie face eager beneath her baseball cap. Knowing just how much 10-year-old Erin missed her dad, wanting to do something special for her, I’d invited her to go with me that afternoon to watch the Giants play the Chicago Cubs at Candlestick Park. I’d never seen a kid so excited. We’d been driving across the Bay Bridge when she suddenly piped up, “Maybe we’ll catch a foul ball!” And like [More]

Saturday, October 30, 2004. The half-mile crescent of Whangarei’s Ocean Beach glowed white in the early morning light. January and February—the high months of summer in New Zealand—were still far away, and the water was cold on my feet from the winter just past.   With me were my fellow lifeguards Karina and Matt, my daughter Nicky—also a lifeguard—and her friend Helen, a novice. This was to be Helen’s first official summer lifeguarding at Ocean Beach. That morning, we were going to show her one of the beach’s most challenging features: the jagged lines of rocks that jut far out [More]

For the hundredth time I glanced over my shoulder on my way to work. The business quarter was full of men in suits carrying briefcases, women in tailored skirts and sensible shoes.   It was the same crowd I moved among Monday through Friday, but this particular morning I sensed danger lurking at every turn. The night before I’d had a horrible dream, and I couldn’t seem to shrug it off.   Read More: Duly Warned by a Dream – Guideposts

Just for me, a special solo. That’s what Miss Van D surprised me with at the end of junior choir practice one late-autumn day. She had chosen me over the seven other girls I sang with.   “Your hymn will close a service with Reverend Wilson next Saturday,” she said. “You’ll do a beautiful job, Virginia, I’m sure of it.”   My best friend, Alice, raised her hand. “Where will the service be?”   “At the People’s Rescue Mission,” said Miss Van D. “On Water Street.”   A couple of girls gasped. Water Street was in a bad part of [More]

“Here, boy!” I called out again. I walked down the cement steps behind the Army barracks and listened, hoping to hear an answering meow or to see a flash of black and white streaking toward me. But there was still no sign of the cat. Now I was starting to panic. While I had yet to name him, I had been feeding him for months. Seeing him had become the highlight of my day.   I could clearly remember when we first met. Sitting on these same cold cement steps that night, I’d been staring out into the darkness. Rain soaked [More]

“I have a story,” Uncle Junior said one Christmas Eve. My aunts, uncles, cousins and siblings were all seated around the dinner table. That wasn’t unusual. Whenever my family gathered—after the meal was finished and the dishes were done—we returned to the table to entertain one another with stories.   My mother’s older brother Harold Junior told some of the best. When he reminisced about growing up with his seven siblings, no one laughed harder than he did. But there was something in his tone of voice that Christmas Eve. Something unusual. Uncle Junior sounded serious. Everyone gave their full attention [More]

“This is a new recipe,” my grandmother said, setting a pan of pastry down on the table in front of me and my great-aunt Gertie. “Tell me what you think.”   At 80, my grandmother, Loretta “Rita” Shultz, was as fearless as ever, always trying new things. I wished I had her confidence. “Tell me again about that time you got lost in the woods, Gram,” I said while she dished out our dessert.   Gram and Aunt Gertie shared a conspiratorial smile. I’d heard the story a million times, but how they loved to tell it. “Well,” said Gram, [More]

Scooping up one-year-old Jason, I grabbed my keys from the counter and called to five-year-old Robert: “Time to go!” We were running late for a doctor’s appointment.   The Texas summer heat beat down on us when we stepped outside. Robert kicked off his shoes and made footprints in the sandy driveway all the way to the car. “Mommy will crank up the A.C., guys,” I promised, buckling Jason into his car seat. I locked and slammed his door and reached for the handle on the passenger side so Robert could hop in. Now where did I put those keys? My eyes [More]

Books, knickknacks and memorabilia crowded Grandpa’s cellar. Old newspapers and magazines stacked waist high. My father and I worked in the thick of it. We’d come from Grandpa’s funeral that morning, as good a time as any, we thought, to sort through his things.   I’d hoped the job would make me feel close to him. But instead Grandpa had never felt so far away. Dad sifted through a pile of papers. I couldn’t focus. “Is everything all right, David?” Dad asked.   “I guess it’s just hitting me that we’ll never see him again.”   Dad didn’t respond. He was staring [More]

My husband, Wally, and I had been sitting in the Pittsburgh airport for the last few hours, sad and overwhelmed. Wally’s dad had died unexpectedly of heart failure. We were trying to get from our home in Richmond to Los Angeles as quickly as possible.   Wally’s sister, his only sibling, was waiting for us, and Wally, as the executor of the estate, needed to take care of some legal matters right away. “I hope our flight leaves on time,” Wally said now, running his hands through his hair.   Read More: A Heavenly Travel Agent – Guideposts

The Boston Red Sox and our grandson, Justin. Two of my husband’s greatest pleasures. Justin spent countless hours with Grandpa Gabe, laughing and talking while they worked in the yard and around the house. Gabe taught him how to use tools and even to repair our riding lawn mower.   Their happiest times together were in baseball season, cheering for the Red Sox on television, munching handfuls of peanuts, Gabe’s favorite snack. “He’s my best friend,” Justin always said.   My husband battled gastrointestinal cancer for most of Justin’s young life. He never gave in to the disease, and our [More]

One late spring day I worked in my garden. I called it my “salad” because it produced a bumper crop of lettuce, onions, radishes and tomatoes. Along with patches of blueberries and strawberries, this was an important food source for a 70-year-old widow like me living on Social Security.   As usual I looked up at the big old maple tree looming over me. It was dead, but I couldn’t afford to have it taken down. I worried constantly that the tree would fall and ruin my garden. Worse, the tree’s two main limbs leaned over the electric lines into [More]

Early one July morning I arrived by train in Salt Lake City eagerly anticipating a week’s camping trip with my son, Dan. We planned to explore the Oregon Trail. My great-great-grandfather had trudged West along that trail beside a covered wagon. Dan wouldn’t arrive for a while, so I stowed my gear in a station locker and walked into town. When I returned, the station doors were locked. A sign announced it wouldn’t reopen until ten o’clock that night. I peered in the window, but no one was inside.   We’d lose a whole day if I couldn’t get my [More]

It was my husband’s idea to celebrate my 34th birthday with a vacation trip to Yellowstone and the Teton Mountains—on our Honda Goldwing motorcycle. Steve lived and breathed motorcycles. In nine years of marriage, I’d learned to like them, too, but a three-day journey from our home in Wisconsin was proving to be a long ride. “We’ll finally get some time alone together,” Steve had said. “What more could you want?” For me, there was one thing more I wanted. A baby.   Tests showed that Steve and I were both capable of having children, but so far nothing had happened. And it [More]

Father of the groom didn’t quite have the same ring as mother of the bride, but I took my duties seriously. My oldest son, Josh, was getting married, and I wanted to do everything I could to make his wedding day the greatest, most perfect day of his life. Like my father did for my wedding.   Dad died years earlier and I still missed him. Maybe never more than I did now.   I stood outside the door of a shop I’d never been to and gave the shoes I was carrying another despairing glance. The shoes that went with my son’s [More]

His name, he said, was Nuke. Of course, I thought. He sure looked the part—a regular nuclear meltdown. His pants and shirt were disheveled. It seemed as if he hadn’t shaved—or bathed—in days. He tied up his old boat next to ours. Just the sight of him made me uneasy. Here we are, Bill and I, stranded on an old wooden dock in the middle of a remote state forest on Lake Michigan, with a crippled sailboat and no electricity or phone. Now comes this crazy person on top of everything else!   Much as we needed help, we weren’t that desperate. Or [More]

My husband, Luke, and I had decided to do some renovations on our house. Our latest project was installing concrete ceilings in our 12-year-old son Bernard’s room. Workers installed a metal framework, then smoothed wet concrete over it. That night, we suggested that Bernard stay in his sister Sammy’s room while the ceiling continued to dry, but he didn’t want to. So we put the kids to bed, each in their own room, and turned in.   Crash! I jerked awake in the wee hours of the morning. Oh, no. I thought. The ceiling collapsed! Read More: 3 Mysterious Stories of Divine Rescue – Guideposts