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LOA GIFT SHOP |
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by Tami Briggs |
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Images of harp-playing angels are everywhere, from priceless, Italian frescoes to two-dollar greeting cards. But I never really thought much about angels until at age thirty, I took up playing the harp. Five years later, when I volunteered to play at hospital and hospice bedsides, I couldn't escape the extraordinary truth behind the cliché-time and time again, as I played my harp, I witnessed healings that were nothing short of miraculous. As a result, for the last six years, I have been an educational speaker on the healing power of music, traveling all over the U.S. to share my music and inspirational stories. Whenever possible, I drive to my speaking engagements. Since my harp is often my only companion, in order to ensure my safety on the road, I carry a cell phone and subscribe to AAA. Still, preferring not to have to resort to either, I make sure that my car is in tip-top shape. So, about a month before I was scheduled to drive to Stevens Point, Wisconsin, to speak and perform at the National Wellness Institute, I took my car in for its 55,000-mile check-up. Since I hadn't bought new tires in a while, I asked the serviceman to please double-check them. He did and reassured me that they looked fine. So, early on a hot, muggy, July morning a few weeks later, I confidently packed up my car and set out on my trip from Minneapolis to Stevens Point. After a couple of hours on the road, deep into my driving trance and surrounded by the bucolic Wisconsin landscape, I was jolted into full consciousness by a loud thumping noise coming from the rear part of my car. It continued to grow louder and louder, but as far as I could tell, aside from the noise, nothing had changed-the car was still handling the same, and the gauges indicated nothing out of the ordinary. Still, I sensed that something was seriously wrong and pulled onto the shoulder. Sure enough, when I got out and inspected the car, I saw that I had" blown my right rear tire! Instinctively, I scanned the area to look for possible sources of help. To my dismay, all that surrounded me were miles of rolling hills, farmland, and a few houses dotting the horizon. I was officially in the middle of nowhere. With mounting fear, I climbed back into my car and rummaged around in my glove box for the roadside assistance telephone number I had conveniently stashed for times like this. When I finally found it, I whipped out my cell phone and desperately dialed, only to find out that I had no reception because of the remote area. Clutching my futile phone and car manual, I began to shake as the reality of my situation sunk in-I was completely on my own. In an attempt to ward off full-blown panic, my mind raced to consider my options. It was far too hot and humid to walk to the closest house, which appeared to be about three-quarters of a mile away. Plus, leaving my harp out in the hot car could seriously damage it. On the other hand, I didn't feel comfortable with the thought of waiting by the side of the road and trusting some randomly stopping stranger for help. There was only one option left-my angels were going to have to help me! Even with my deep sense of spirituality, though, I couldn't comprehend how celestial beings were going to help me and fix my flat tire. Just then, as I glanced up into my rear-view mirror, I saw the county sheriff pulling up behind me! Immediately, my eyes welled up with tears. I was just so relieved that my prayer had been answered-my angels had guided the sheriff right to me! Before I knew it, I was in the sheriff's safe, air-conditioned car, listening to him radio for a tow-truck. As we waited for it to arrive, I explained how I'd prayed for an angel. He laughed. “Most people don't usually think of me as an angel!” Within minutes, the tow-truck showed up and my lopsided car was resting comfortably on the flatbed. Because I was so grateful for his help, before parting ways, I gave the sheriff a CD that I had recorded called Blessings to You, the perfect title since he had been such a blessing to me. A 10-mile tow-truck ride, an hour-long wait, and a hundred bucks later, I was back on my way to Stevens Point. I kept thinking about my angels and was awestruck at how a tire blow-out ended up deepening my sense of divine protection and confirming my belief in angels. Miraculously, I made it to the conference on time for my presentation. More importantly, though, I was able to use it as my first opportunity to share my latest inspirational story and its uplifting message: The loving assistance of angels is available any time and any place; all we have to do is be open to receiving it. © 2005 Tami Briggs |
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