Proof The Bible Is True

01/20/20

 

“No, Chad,” I snapped, spotting my energetic little boy racing for the front door as it closed. “You can’t go with your sister.” Chad ran to the window and knocked on the glass. Shauna waved before she ran off down the street to play with her friends. At two and a half, Chad was a handful. Trying to keep him out of mischief and danger, I’d nailed drawers shut, built a wooden box over the TV knobs and duct-taped safety plugs into the electrical outlets.

 

For nearly two years, since I’d suffered a slipped disk and had to leave my job, Chad and Shauna had been my responsibility at home. My wife, Lori, worked at her gift shop, which specialized in angel items: books, cards, ceramic, jewelry—everything she could find to offer her customers some of the glory she found in these heavenly beings. Lori saw angels as symbols of God’s love; to me they were merely a source of income. My day was consumed by more practical matters; namely, making sure Chad stayed out of trouble or worse.

 

Read More: The Angel That Saved My Son | Guideposts