Angel on the Phone by Ednah
[Ed.: The woman who shared this story asked we use only her first name.]
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Five years ago my marriage broke up violently. I was barely 18 at the time. My husband of less than
6 months, who seemed to me to be a lively, full of fun type, turned out to be a drug dealer. I found
that he sold to guys at the high school he had gone to.
I tried to get him to stop, but he laughed at me. Then he started beating up on me. I would go home
to my mother for a few days and he would say he was sorry. I kept on like that for nearly a year.
Finally I couldn't take it any more and I called the police who arrested him on a domestic violence
charge. The last thing he said was that he would return to kill me.
Knowing he was serious about meaning me harm, I was frightened and moved back with my mother, whose
home was just outside of town on what had once been a small farm.
The day after, he got out on bail, although I didn't yet know that. Mom was at work; the house was
quiet. I was watching tv and planning a lazy day when the phone rang. A voice I didn't recognize,
"Please come over to Sue's house right away. She needs help." Then the caller hung up, before
I could even ask who was calling.
I had a friend named Sue, so I called her, curious, but the line was busy. So I went back to the tv,
but I couldn't concentrate. Something about the voice kept coming back to me. It wasn't an urgent
sound, but it was quite serious. I decided I might as well go over and find out what was up. So I
got in the car and headed across town.
When I got to my friend's house, I found she was home in the midst of putting up curtains. "I know
you'll think this is crazy," I began, "but I just had a phone call from some guy telling me you
"Well, I sure could use help with the curtains, but it's not a matter of life and death", she
Well, we hung the curtains and had coffee, then I realized I should go home to make some dinner for
Mom and me.
I parked the car in front of the house and headed up the walk. It was then I noticed that the front
door was wide open, the window smashed to splinters. I ran for the car and drove like a madwoman to
the police station in town, and poured out my story to a sympathetic sergeant. He dispatched a car
right away and found me a quiet corner where I waited.
The news from the patrol car was grim. The house had been torn apart, an abruptive attempt had been
made to set fire to my room. Six bullets were recovered from the mattress.
My husband was rearrested at once, and because I testified about his drug involvement, no bail was
granted. I gave thanks to God who had saved me that day.
But who had made the phone call that had gotten me out of the house, not a half hour (as it turned
out) before my husband showed up with murder on his mind? He had come in a drunken fit and hadn't
told anyone. Sue certainly hadn't called. But had I stayed at home, I would have been killed.
It was two years later. I was making a new life for myself. I had been pursuing some reading on
supernatural phenomena when I came across an article on angels. And no sooner had I read it than I
knew inside, with an absolute certainty, that it was my guardian angel who had made that phone call.
I started to cry with thanks. I'll always be grateful to the angel who saved me.