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Having become a bit more settled in that Angel-induced whirlwind state which I jokingly refer to as “my life”, I am in a position once again, dear Readers, to transmit communication from the Other Dimension, our true Home. This one has to do with my glasses.

The Thursday before Halloween, my friends and I took part in a Ghost Walk in the city of my current residence. Before leaving for town, I took along a few select items, including my reading glasses in their maroon, faux leather case, placing them in pockets of my fleece. Since the particular pocket where my glasses were could not be secured with a zipper or in any other way, I took care to carry the fleece such that nothing would fall out of that pocket. Preparations complete, we set out on the Ghost Walk, walking all over town to the various venues where activities took place.

We walked to the Masonic Temple for a delicious barbecue supper; to the cemetery for spooky ghost stories; to the Opera House for a wonderful Olde Tyme review of songs and dancing. We walked along the train tracks in the center of town and talked to the man charged with operating the crossing signals when a train was approaching; we ambled to another review, where beautiful, unapologetic African-American women with the physiques of opera stars belted out one tune after another until even the rafters rang.

The evening festivities began to run down around 9 pm, so we drove home. At home, I reached into my fleece pocket to find all items intact except, no glasses. I couldn’t believe it. I had been so careful to keep that pocket upright, making sure that they didn’t fall out. Now, everything was intact, except for my glasses. In the midst of my brooding and regretting, a flash came before my inner eyes. The flash showed the front of the Opera House, with a clear picture of my glasses in their maroon, faux leather case. “Ridiculous!” I thought. “I could have lost those glasses anywhere while I was traipsing all over the city for four solid hours.” Annoyed and sad, I dismissed the flash totally since the glasses could easily be replaced with another pair from CVS. The maroon, faux leather case was another matter, however, since maroon, faux leather glasses cases from the ‘60’s were not in such ready supply. Resigning myself to my bad luck, I tried to put the incident from my mind.

The next evening, we went on part II of the Ghost Walk, which started with a lovely supper served up by parishioners dressed like monks in the basement of the local Methodist Church, a basement which had been transformed into catacombs. From there, we walked all over town again, as we visited beautiful old homes where ghostly figures regaled us with tales from days of yore. At around 7 pm, I found myself in front of the Opera House. I looked at the door and contemplated asking the staff if anyone had turned in a pair of glasses in a maroon, faux leather case. “Naw,” I thought, “what are the odds that my glasses would be there? I could have lost them anywhere. What’s the point?” But I had mentioned going to the Opera House to my friend, Jean, and she encouraged me to inquire. In addition to her urging, I became curious to see whether the flash I had received had been correct.

With surprising trepidation, I approached a young man in the lobby, asking him whether there was a lost-and-found section and whether anyone had turned in a pair of glasses the evening before. He replied that if glasses had been turned in, they would be on the piano at the front of the theatre, but, unfortunately, an act was currently in progress and could I come back at 7:30 pm after the act was over. “I could be anywhere at 7:30 pm,” I thought to myself, thinking that I probably wouldn’t be back at 7:30 pm. Still, there was that little, niggling curiosity. With these conflicting thoughts, I left, unsure what would happen, but reasonably certain that I would not be back, because my glasses probably were not there anyway.

We visited several more houses, then the sweet tea hit bottom and suddenly the facilities seemed very necessary. Interestingly, only the Opera House had public facilities, so back I went, accompanied by another friend. Idly glancing at my watch, I noted that the time was 7:32 pm, very close to the time recommended earlier by the young man. Going up to one of the staff who happened to be in the lobby, I inquired whether anyone had turned in a pair of glasses. “Let me ask him what he did with them,” she said. I was aghast. Had the flash been correct? She went outside and found the same young man who had spoken to me earlier. Without a word and only a glance at me, he walked into a room and returned quickly. In the hand he extended toward me was a maroon, faux leather case, containing my glasses! “Someone found these on the floor last night and turned them in,” he said. Goose bumps ran from the tips of my hair to the tips of my toenails—even my nipples had goose bumps. The flash had been totally and completely correct. Instantly, I knew that this must be conveyed to you, my dear Readers, to urge and encourage you to stay open to Angelic communication, and even more importantly, to trust it.

I am still aghast at this incident, each time I think of it. How trivial it seems that I would be given an Angelic flash over such a small item as a pair of glasses in a plastic case. Not only a flash, but a flash in color and in exquisite detail: the front of the Opera House with its glass doors and green/gold lettering, along with the case containing the glasses floating in mid-air, superimposed on the vision, but not so that it obscured the words, “Ye Olde Opera House” (my Angels expended considerable effort to insure that I saw the flash clearly and missed none of the fine details). We can become conditioned by our religious training to think that Angelic matters only deal with big things and important people. Given this kind of conditioning, we don’t really believe that Angelic messages deal with little people like us and our little affairs. The flash given to me vividly brings home the message that each and every detail of each and every one of our lives is so vitally important to our Angels that they willingly go to no end of trouble to help us achieve positive outcomes. It is written that we are loved so much by Heaven that every hair on our heads is counted. Believe it, dear Readers. Stay open to guidance, and the wonders that can be in your life will be revealed to you.