Hold the Bus: Angels in the Driver's Seat - Messages From Angels

Note: One of my favorite parts of my spiritual job description is when I am asked to be a messenger for benevolent angelic forces. I often receive messages for people whose angels or spiritual guardians ask me to communicate when it is a matter of urgency or they are having a hard time getting through to their human counterparts. Many of these people are strangers to me and our interactions last only moments. These messages can be warnings of illness or accident.  They can also be intended to clarify or give direction. Whatever they are, I play my role as messenger faithfully



The bus was scheduled to arrive in 7 minutes. I waited at the stop in the clear winter night. 


He smiled and spoke from under the shine of yellow street lights. “Didn’t I see you on the bus ride over?”  He did not wear a coat.

I remembered him too. Earlier that day, this man with dark brown hair, a friendly face and a red plaid shirt had boarded the bus after all the seats were full. He had traveled standing up, leaning against a stainless steel pole, steadying himself against the swaying movements of the bus. 

Now we chatted about the weather and in particular the rain. He mentioned a plan to visit his son who lived in another city. As he talked, the words, “visit” and “smart move,” along with a picture of a six-pack of beer flashed in my mind. I knew then that I was to deliver a message to this man.
Maybe because I was tired, I blundered in my delivery. Giving him no forewarning I blurted out, “Okay, this is what I see.”

Before I could say more, a look of astonishment came over his face. (Later in the conversation he would tell me that I gave him a hard stare and that I startled him with my approach. “Work on that,” he would advise me).
Realizing my error, I started over. “Excuse me. Let me explain. A few years back I had a spiritual awakening…”
“Okay, cool. Good. I get it. I’m with you.”

I felt bad for startling him and also encouraged by his positivity. “So that means that sometimes I get messages for people.”

“Okay,” he said calmly.  Suddenly, he became animated.  “No! Wait! Messages!? From who?” he asked, surprised and nearly shouting.

I pointed at the sky. “From spirits.” 

“Oh… oh no, oh … you’re freakin’ me out ... the way you’re looking at me!” He gripped the front of his plaid shirt and twisted it in his hand.

“No, no, nothing to worry about… sometimes I’ve told people they’re at risk for getting cancer. It’s nothing like that,” I said hoping to reassure him.

“Oh, oh, good,” he said, more calmly, and then, “No! Wait! What’s your job?”

“I give spiritual messages to people. As you can see, it can be a little socially awkward.”

He paused for a moment as if thinking and then asked again, “Wait. What’s your job?”

“That is my job. I deliver messages.” He had a puzzled look on his face. I continued with the message. “The message for you is that going to be near your son is a good thing to consider. He needs you.”


“Whoa. Wait! That’s crazy! His mother just texted me! She said I need to come! She said he’s on drugs but she didn’t say what kind! She said, ‘He needs help!’ She said, ‘He needs help!’”


(for more, see next post)