Makes his introduction to me on one of my trips to Israel.
2009
Fred and I are on holiday in Israel.
We have a side trip booked and fully paid for on our way back from Israel
to South Africa.
Guess where?
A whole week in Egypt!
Neither of us have ever been to Egypt.
We are both beyond excited!

But,
before Egypt we are going to somewhere even better!
The highlight of the entire trip:
Petra!
Where the movie Indiana Jones and Raiders of the Lost Ark was filmed.
There are simply no words to describe the beauty
of the magnificent coloured stone and carved out mountains!
It is like a living piece of magic!
I can write a whole story, waxing lyrical,
just about Petra.
But,
this story is not about Petra.

Remember,
we are on our way to Egypt for a week, after our trip to Petra.
Only
we never get to Egypt!
Because in Petra,
Fred gets sick and spends the whole planned Egypt-week in hospital!
In Amman,
the capital of Jordan.

The ambulance trip between Petra and Amman is another story altogether!
Weaving at top speed through peak hour traffic.
I even ask one of the poor nurses hanging on to the drip
as Fred’s bed is flung from one side of the ambulance to the other,
if the ambulances ever have accidents?
His reply: ‘Yes, they do. Often! But don’t worry about us.’
Bloody hell.
I’m thinking: I’m not worried about you!
Be that as it may,
We fortunately make it in one piece to the fancy 5 star hospital in Amman.
A team of 4 doctors are welcoming us at the door to the hospital!
At about 9pm…
Very professional and friendly indeed!

They whisk Fred off to theatre for an emergency operation.
But only after literally raiding almost all the money for our planned trip to Egypt!
From my money belt!
I had to be sharp to keep some money aside for emergencies.

Just after the midnight operation, Fred has to sleep in ICU.
Remember,
we have already paid for his luxury suite as we booked in,
before the operation.
So he is paying for that bed as well as the one in ICU!

I’m told I am not allowed to leave the hospital.
It’s too dangerous in Jordan for a woman alone.
I might be kidnapped.
There is a sleeper couch in his bedroom that I can sleep on.
But
since he is in ICU I’m told I cannot sleep in his room if he is not in it.
I have to be booked in as a patient!
Which means I need to fill in many forms and pay for the room again!
Bloody hell!

It doesn’t help to argue
Language barriers and exhaustion.
I just fall into bed at about 1am.

I’m glad nobody who knows me was there to witness my unladylike reaction when they woke me up at 5am to supposedly take my blood pressure!

A few days later Fred is back in his room from ICU.
He wants to go home.
NOW!

We discuss our plans and realise how we need to change our tickets
back to South Africa
as Egypt is by now a recognised ship that’s sailed.
So,
I have to get to the travel agent to change our tickets.
You must remember that in these religious countries
everything closes down for Friday and Saturday.
Sabbath or jumu’ah
And it’s a long weekend on top of it!
I have to do this before the long weekend.
Otherwise we will be stuck in Amman until after the long weekend.

I know I need to get permission from the doctor to leave the hospital,
but
he is too busy to be found.
So I have to take matters into my own hands.

Luckily his secretary helps me to get a taxi.
She tells the taxi driver in their language where to take me.
But he conveniently ‘gets lost’!
He takes me to the South African Embassy instead of the travel agent!
Of course he is out to make a buck, running up the meter.
I’m a woman after all…
not a respected entity in this part of the world.

After much stress and hectic traffic, I finally get to the right place!
Where they really try their best to make my life as difficult as possible.
By sending me back to the hospital.
To get the doctor to sign many forms before they change any tickets.
They don’t want to scan and e-mail any forms.
They want the hard copy.

I finally find a taxi.
We rush back in the hectic traffic.
I finally manage to track down the doctor in the huge hospital.
He is not happy with me being out on the streets alone!
But by now I am desperate and non-compliant and after a huge amount of stress
I finally get back to the travel agency with the signed forms.
5 minutes
before they close their doors for the long weekend.
Phew!
I just made it!

Only to find that…
The only man left behind the counter who could possible help me
in these precious 5 minutes
ignores me
as if I’m invisible!
And I am the only person in the room.
They really do not respect women and have no problem showing it.

By now I am ready to commit a crime!

In desperation
I speak to the Angel on my shoulder.
You must understand
I never knew I had an angel on my shoulder!
But in that moment my back was against the wall.
I had tried everything else and there was nothing else I could do.
And that was what popped into my head.
with the 5-minute sword dangling over my head.

So I ask him:
please speak to the Angel on that man’s shoulder
and ask him to please help me!
Sort it out in your dimension because we are unable to do so in this one!’

Now listen to this!
My sentence was not even finished
my words not even cold
the full stop still waiting to be placed
and the man looks up
actually looks at me and even makes eye contact with me
asking me
with a big, friendly
smile
‘how can I help you?’

Bloody hell.
Unbelievable!

And we sort the problem, chop-chop!
And
Thát was how I learnt about the Angel on my shoulder.
I saw with my own two eyes how a totally impossible situation swung around and made a 180 degree turn, in the flash of a second!

I have put my Angel to the test many times since then,
and he pulls through for me,
time and time again.
He is very real.

Pity,
that I then go and forget again!
But,
I keep on getting little reminders every now and again.
*
Let me tell you about one such reminder.
Funny, in Israel again, many years later,
After Fred’s death.
And my passport gets stolen!

Same type of scenario
It’s Friday in Israel
Shabbat
Everything closes early
But
I’m up early for the long travel by train and taxi to get to the South African Embassy in Tel Aviv
before
they open their doors at 9 am.
They are only open from 9-11am.
I need to make full use of these 2 hours that they are open.
I am armed with the police report and photos and I am there when the doors open.
Basically first in line.

You must understand
When they close their doors on Shabbat they are closed for
Friday and Saturday.
And because it’s the South African Embassy
they are also closed on Sunday!

So,
they are only opening again on Monday.
And I have to fly back to SA on Monday!
if I don’t manage to get my passport sorted in these 2 hours
I will miss my flight on Monday!

As I was filling in the police report the day before,
I was told that it is indeed possible to be issued with an emergency passport in 2 hours.
So,
I go with the expectation that it is a done deal.
I am not leaving without my emergency passport.
Positive thinking.
I know this is going to be difficult but if the woman behind the counter
helps me
we can do it!

But she doesn’t!
She is really unfriendly and unhelpful.
Her colleague is on leave.
She is overworked and overstressed.
And it becomes very clear, very quickly,
that she is not interested in helping anybody
or even trying to appear helpful.

I ask her, in a very calm voice, why she is shouting at me,
as I did not steal my own passport.
And she shouts at the top of her voice:
“I AM NOT SHOUTING AT YOU!”
And she sends me to the back of the, by now very long queue,
with new forms to fill in.

Bloody hell.
By now I’m shaking.
My circles are seriously disturbed.
Everybody in the Embassy is looking at me with big eyes
and are being very nice to her.
To make sure they don’t end up in the dog box together with me!
And then I get angry with the Angel on my shoulder and I say
‘You really aren’t busy helping me here now, are you?
You aren’t doing your frigging job today!’

The next MOMENT
The woman changes her attitude in one second flat!
She calls me to the front of the queue
in the sweetest, kindest, friendliest voice imaginable!
Honey-dripping-voice.
Apologising and explaining how she is so over-worked.
and she really tries her best to help me.
I watch how she vents her anger and frustration on the other poor souls
who do not know about the Angel on their shoulders!

I am just very happy that I’m not struck down
by a lightning bolt
for speaking to my Angel with such disrespect!
*
Much later after the event I start to think about this story of the Angel.

My question is this:
If I can ask the angel on my shoulder
to
speak to the angel on your shoulder
then
why can’t we make a collective Angel request?
*
Imagine what our world might look like if we asked the Angels
to please help us sort out all our problems in their dimension first?
*
In retrospect
if I have to ask myself what has been the top most important thing
I have learnt in this life,
it will be finding out about The Angel on my Shoulder!
*
Think about it.
Electricity is invisible. Yet it is always there.
But it only goes on when we flip the switch!
Same with prayer.
God and the Angels are always there.
But we need to ask them to please help us!

According to Dr Hawkins each person raising their vibration raises the vibration of 10 000 people!

May we all remember that every little thing we do
and every prayer request we make
counts!