Messages From Angels - Hold the Bus: Angels in the Driver's Seat - (post 2 of 6)

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.

(continued… click here for post 1)

“There are some family things that need to be worked out. You need some family ties,” I said.

“No, it’d only be me and him up there.”

“That’s what I mean.”

The bus arrived.

“It will be challenging….”  I hesitated to say the next part of the message for fear of offending him.  I listened again to the angels to make sure I was hearing it correctly and then repeated it to him.  “It’ll force you both to grow up but it will help you,” I said.

He tilted his head and shifted his gaze when I said the words “grow up,” but he did not seem offended. I walked away and from him toward the bus door. His voice followed me as I got on the bus and paid the bus driver. 

“Whoa, wait. I want to talk about this more. Who are you? This is crazy!” he exclaimed…..

He got onto the public bus.  After paying, he took a seat next to me at the front of the vehicle on the long, bright blue plastic bench normally reserved for elders and disabled passengers.  He rested one elbow on the top edge of the seat, turned his torso toward me, closed his right hand into a fist and rested his forehead against it. The faded red of his shirt contrasted with the energetic blue of the bus seat rounded beneath his body.  His eyes met mine.

“I want to talk more about this,” he said, “Who are you?”

We leaned toward one another. On either side of us, steel poles curved up from beneath the seats and rose toward the ceiling of the bus, the boundaries of a sudden sanctuary within which we found the freedom to speak freely.  Though on a public bus, it was as if we rode in a bubble of privacy.

Before the bus had arrived, we had waited at a bus stop, chatting in the cold twilight. In the dark of the bus stop, I had not been able to see the details of his facial features.  Within the brightly lit interior of the bus, I saw that his eyes were blue, watery, anxious and also earnest.  I saw a gash that ran up the center of his forehead and disappeared into his hair line.  The wound looked as if at one time it had cleaved to the bone; now, there was just a jagged streak of dried blood in the gap between two flaps of regenerating skin.
While waiting for the bus, I had begun to deliver a message and now our conversation continued. In response to his question I repeated, “I get messages from spirits and I deliver them to people.”

He told me more about his relationship with his son and about how, due to conflicts with his son’s mother, he had not only experienced painful wounds, he also had not been in his son’s life since the child was nine months old. As he spoke, the words of the angels came through and I continued delivering the message. 

(For more, see next post)