Yep, I Have Been Visited (at least Verbally) by an Angel

Soon after our arrival in Manti, we purchased an older home which, as you would expect, required a ton of work to get it into a desireable condition. We actually spent the better part of an entire year simply demolishing--Mitch would say that is a strong word, but my sense was that it was live-able when we bought it and a year later it was no longer inhabitable. Initially, I didn't have his vision. 

Soon, though, I could see it. In the dining and living rooms, my husband had torn out the false ceiling--which was covered by those school-ceiling sponge-like tiles of the 1950s--to reveal beautiful 10 foot ceilings and missing molding. He was working on replacing the molding and I was working to remove nine layers of wallpaper, a veritable history of decorator trends. I was soaking the paper with water and then scraping the walls over and over and over with a 3-inch razor-type tool. Piles of gold, baby blue, green, and rose colored torn scraps of paper fell in mounds around the walls of the room. It took weeks to remove the paper with me working hours and hours at a time.

One hot summer day, I loaded 3-year old Seth up and we went over to the house to work.  I turned on some music, picked up my tools, and quickly immersed myself in the layers of tightly glued paper; Seth got busy exploring both inside and out, which was our typical routine. We had replicated this exact process dozens of times.

I honestly do not know how much time had passed (you are welcome to launch parenting attacks at this moment), but I know I had made what I felt was good progress when suddenly I heard an audible and urgent voice order me to "find Seth"!  I stopped abruptly and began to look around. He wasn't in any of his usual hangouts, and as I searched I felt a heart-gripping sense of urgency. I went outside and ran around the house yelling his name. He was nowhere, I was panicked, and I was at a loss as to where to look. I stopped, calmed myself, and asked for guidance.

Immediately, my attention was drawn to the car. I walked toward it, not seeing my baby but feeling compelled to move in that direction; as I neared, I heard a tiny little muffled voice screaming for help. I bolted to the car and opened the door, expecting to find him. I didn't, but the voice grew louder so I flipped the trunk latch where I found a crying, sweaty, limp little boy who was heat exhausted, dehydrated, and terrified.  Had he fallen asleep or passed out, I'm not sure I would have found him in time. More importantly, had I not heard a voice, I may not have gone looking...at least not at that moment. 

That hot summer afternoon is not the only time that I have felt guided, that I have felt someone I could not see was watching, caring, and protecting. In fact, it has happened enough times that I don't question. If I'm driving down the street and feel prompted to change my intended path, I do so without question.  

Generally, I have no idea if tragedy was averted. Generally, I don't know if I was in fact inspired or just reacting to random thoughts. On that day, though, I knew--and I still believe--that someone not of this world intervened to save the life of a curious little boy who somehow found his way into the trunk, shut it, and was then helpless to save himself. I also believe that because of that voice, I was spared a lifetime of sorrow and regret and was granted a couple of decades (and counting) of happiness in my pioneer home.

Written 17 May 2015