How to Connect with Your Guardian Angels

The night before my fifth birthday, as my mind was slipping into slumber, I was suddenly aware of a guardian angel standing at the foot of my twin bed, my older sister rhythmically breathing across the room.   My visitor was bursting with a glow so stunning my eyes widened to her magnificence, wanting to alert someone as a witness, yet my voice eluded me in the shadow of the night.

Although her lips did not move, she was talking to me.  She held my hand and promised to help me through the bumpy parts of life.  She would always be there if I asked for her, singing to me those comforting words over and over, she lured me back to sleep, making sure I didn’t forget.

I forgot anyway.  In my twenties, traumatized by life events, the need to reconnect with a higher source began to pulsate in my being.  So I asked for a sign.  This plain and simple act of inquiry is rule number one rule in connecting to your angels. If you want to bond with your guardian angels you have to be willing to ask and accept their messages without fear.

Second, on the list is to talk to them persistently asking for guidance.  It is essential to share your emotions and fears with them.  You are paired with some munificent beings, here to love you, guide you, and support you.   If you are fearful, they will comfort you.  If you are indecisive they will send messages to help give you clarity.  Once you ask it is crucial to pay attention to the signs.

Messages can come in a symbol, a touch, a song, or a voice in your head.  When it was time for me to get a new puppy, the signs were abundant.  In the summer of 2002, we traveled to Lake Tahoe for a July 4th celebration. Early one morning while hiking in Incline Village, two English Springer Spaniels left their owners behind, running up to me with wagging tails. One looked exactly like my dog Smokey, who had been gone for three years.  The likeness startled me.  Equally obstinate, the signs kept coming.  To pacify my urge, the internet reveals one Springer available; a black and white male.  Again, my attention turned to other matters.

Later in the fall, while roller skating down a path, another Springer crossed the trail forcing me to stop.  He too looked uncannily like Smokey.  Going back to the computer, I found the same dog as before yet now he was on sale.  Being willful, I asked for one last sign.

My heart jumped when we got to the kennel. My first dog Smokey’s life companion was a Chessie named Dusty Rose.  One cage held four Chesapeake Bay Retrievers, her same color, in the center brawling in a pile of turbulence.   Three cages down was my future dog with one other partner; another rambunctious Chesapeake Bay retriever. It was as if a time warp was taking me back 20 years. That was about as clear a sign as anyone could ask for.  I picked him up, hugged him tight to my chest, and said “Welcome home.”