I read an article about ways we can feel the presence of angels. The author suggests the subtle ways that we can be reminded of God's loving presence, through feathers, a book title, or the quiet voice inside our head. 

A female cardinal perched in the bush outside my window this week. For my siblings and I that is a sure sign of our mother.  She was as patriotic as her peers in the Great Generation, and patriotism was as popular then as recycling is now. Hence it did not surprise me to think of her when the flags were flying all over town. One of the traditions in our local celebration is to watch respectfully as the veterans walk up to ring the bell. When a woman in her nineties took her turn, there was spontaneous applause. While my own mother would not have been in line, my father certainly would have. He spent years on a navy ship in the Aleutians. 

One of the ways I feel Dad's presence is through music. If a specific song keeps running through my head, I listen to the words with more attention. It is often a message that gives me comfort, or trust. I like that he can still serenade me.

Some people find pennies. In obscure places. And they bring with them a cache of hope that outweighs a bit of copper. 

When I was sixteen I was walking out of the camp dining hall and heard a voice speak to me. 

"You are going to marry John Odhner." I whipped around to see who would dare say such a thing, but no one was there. I dismissed it as ridiculous.

Six years later John and I were married in bare feet, outside on a grassy knoll, while our friends sang a round John had written. There was a pair of butterflies that fluttered ahead of us as we walked toward the stone alter. To us it was a sign of the presence of angels leading us. 

I cherish the presence of reassurances, that we are watched. Protected. Loved.