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On November the 8th each year, Greece celebrates angels and archangels. The Greeks with angelic names celebrate too. Aggelos, Stamatis, Michael, Gabriel and Stratos are just a few of these names.
To celebrate this big day, I am sharing here a couple of stories about Archangel Michael that locals once shared with me on the island of Mytilene (Lesvos). But first, a brief introduction to angels:
The Greek word for angel is Aggelos, which means ‘messenger’. Different kinds of angels can be found across the angelic ranks of hierarchy. The highest in rank are the Cherubim, The Sherafim and the Thrones. Three of the most revered archangels are Michael, Gabriel and Raphael.
Archangel Michael is the ultimate military ‘superhero’ that the faithful call upon when in need of protection. His name means ‘Who is like God’. All you have to do is say three times ‘Archangel Michael, protect me!’ and He is said to rush to your side to make sure no harm comes your way. Other than protection, He also provides courage and strength.
Archangel Gabriel is said to provide strength and guidance to those who need Him. His name means, ‘God is my strength’.
Archangel Raphael is the one to invoke when healing is required. His name means ‘Healing power of God’ and He responds to prayers to provide healing on a physical, emotional or mental level.
Now, to share the stories that the locals of Mandamatho in Mytilene shared with me:
There is a monastery in Mandamatho, which I’ve had the pleasure to visit, and its church is dedicated to Archangel Michael. The church is famous for its ancient icon of the archangel as well as the iron shoes that are also on display there. According to the locals, the archangel wears the iron shoes at night and wanders around their village.
Many claim to have heard loud thuds coming from the roofs at night, and the shared belief is that this is the sound of His iron shoes as He walks around, up on roofs and on the streets, to patrol the village when the sun goes down.
Others claim to have seen His shadow wander around in the church.
The locals replace the iron shoes occasionally, and many offer new pairs from time to time too, seeing that they tend to find signs of wear and tear on them, as if someone actually wears them…
One of the locals told me this amazing story:
There was a villager who was renowned for being highly blasphemous. All day he’d swear, using sacred names in vain, and Archangel Michael’s was one of his ‘favorites’, seeing that he used His name to swear heavily on a daily basis. One night, he saw a tall man in a dream. He looked very strong and was dressed in a military uniform. The man in the dream began to beat up the blasphemous villager pretty badly. Punches, kicks, slaps, you name it, while telling him of for his blasphemy. When the man woke up, his body was covered in bruises… Needless to say, he quickly realized he had been paid a visit by the Archangel Michael himself and stopped swearing, literally, overnight!
Another local had an even more intriguing story to share with me. It was about a man who had a sick child. One night, Archangel Michael appeared before him in a dream and made a devastating announcement – that he had come to take his sick child away. The man then began to wail, crying and begging the Archangel to reconsider. Then the Archangel said, ‘All right! I will let you choose: Shall I take your child or the cow in your field?’
‘Of course, no need to ask,’ the man replied in the dream, ‘please take the cow!’
When the man awoke, he rushed to his child’s bedside to find it was feeling a lot better, and it was eventually cured. As for the cow, the man found it that morning dead in the field.
The legend surrounding the ancient icon of Archangel Michael goes like this:
The monastery was raided one day by Saracen pirates who attacked the monks and slaughtered them. Only one survived to tell the tale; it was a young monk who managed to hide on a roof and watched the massacre from up there. According to legend, afterwards, he saw a vision of Archangel Michael hovering over the slaughtered bodies of the monks.
Inspired by the vision, and to honor their memory, he took some of the blood-stained soil, mixed it with wax and made the Archangel’s face as he remembered it. Today, only the head of the full-body icon is on display.
Take a 3D walk around the monastery grounds in Mandamatho, and see the infamous icon and other relics inside the church to the sound of ecclesiastic hymns. GO HERE (Language is Greek)
Other than the protector of Mandamatho (and the island of Mytilene in general), Archangel Michael is also the protector of the Hellenic Air Force. Every year, on November the 8th and for a couple of days earlier, the Hellenic Air Force celebrates with various events to honor Him. If you’re reading this post near the big day, check out their site for any events near you. Go HERE
Do you enjoy angel stories? My Greek romantic comedy, The Amulet, features a bunch of guardian angels that will inspire and delight you! Check it out HERE
Browse through my posts where I share spooky messages I have received from my angels from time to time. Go HERE
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Today, I’d like to share a delightful anecdote from my daily visits to the beach this past summer. It involves a spooky interaction with my angels that both my husband and I experienced and marveled at!
Those who, like me, believe we all have guardian angels watching over us will find it inspiring, no doubt. As for the non-believers among you, I hope you will read this true account with an open mind and wonder what if, just what if, it couldn’t all be down to coincidence…
At the end of the day, the decision is yours. You be the judge! Here’s what happened:
This summer just gone, I drove down to the local beach most mornings. I always put an old watch in my beach bag so I could keep track of the time but one day, I used a different bag and forgot to put in the watch. I realized it wasn’t in the bag when I took out my flippers, before getting in the water. While I swam, I spared a thought for the watch I’d left back home and entertained myself with the thought that perhaps someone from the locals in the water would shout out the time at some point.
Note that the locals may chat a lot among themselves while swimming but as a rule they don’t shout out the time. But, for some reason, I thought of my angels who always deliver whenever I am in need of something, be it big or trivial, and that thought just formed in my mind.
Shortly after, I forgot all about that, distracted by the cool bliss of the sea as I splashed around and did a few lengths with my exercise flippers. Out of the blue, just as I was thinking it was perhaps time to get out for a spot of sunbathing (‘cos a trip to the beach is also about getting your daily dose of Vitamin D, right?) I heard a local shout out, “What’s the time?”
Startled, I turned and realized the question had come from an old lady in the water. She had asked someone who was on the beach. I pricked my ears just as the prompt reply came, “Twenty to twelve.”
I didn’t think much about it at that point, thinking that perhaps it was a coincidence, but it did make me chuckle, and I whispered a thank you to my angels, just in case 😛
I went out to lie down and enjoy the sun for about 20-30 minutes – the time I allowed daily to soak up some sunshine before heading back home. As I lay on my mat later on, I heard someone else shout from far away, asking the time again! The answer echoed just as loudly. It was twelve, a point in time where I’d be checking my watch if I had it with me. And, of course, it was high time I went home so I got up and packed my stuff, pretty amazed by then… People had told the time twice that morning, loud enough for me to hear. On other days that hadn’t happened, not even once. Also, the telling of the time had come at the right points that I needed to know it – i.e. when I was supposed to leave the water (even though I never asked for that!), and when I should be leaving the beach.
Stay with me, as this is not the end. The best is yet to come…
When Saturday came, as my husband wasn’t working, he visited the beach with me, like every other weekend.
As we swam, I relayed what happened that day and we were having a laugh about it. Here I must explain that even though my husband, Andy, doesn’t have any personal experiences with receiving angelic messages, he has an open mind and finds the spooky stuff that I often share with him quite inspiring. So that morning I saw the familiar look of amazement in his eyes and suggested a little game – that we agree to call on our angels to repeat this for us that day. Andy was delighted with the idea. I told him the thing to do was to agree it would happen, having full faith it would, then totally put the thought aside. I explained to him that that was the trick and it was really important. So once we agreed we wanted our angels to tell us the time, we carried on with our swim and didn’t give it another thought.
Andy got tired of swimming first, like he always does, seeing that he is a marathon runner and always practicing for his next run. As a result, he thinks of a swim as a lazy, cooling interlude between his morning run and his lunch, while for me it is the ultimate workout of about 45 minutes. So, anyway, half an hour later or so he was out, stretched out on his beach mat, while I continued to dive and float like a sea otter in aquamarine heaven.
At some point, I turned around, and saw Andy gazing at me, sat up stiffly on his mat, a bright expression on his face that was alight with amazement.
When I asked what had happened he said a couple had just walked past him and, just as they did, the woman had asked the man, “What is the time?” to which he had replied, “Twenty to twelve.”
You should have seen my husband’s face! He couldn’t believe it and couldn’t work out how this could be a coincidence. Not only had the woman asked the time, but she’d done it just as they were passing by Andy (so he would be close enough to overhear as they were almost whispering to each other). Plus, the time was twenty to twelve – just as the first time I’d overheard someone earlier that week.
I hope you will agree there’s some sort of a pattern here! Perhaps those who think the world is ruled by randomness will dismiss this as a coincidence, and it would be your prerogative to believe what you choose to believe. The rest of you, though… the kindred spirits… Just think! Just think what that means!
For me, the sea is a place where I think of angels a lot… Partly because I often pray, meditate or reflect heavily when I’m in there…. and partly because, for some reason, in the local beach I find feathers floating on most days. That doesn’t happen anywhere else. And it’s impossible for me to see a feather anywhere and not think of angels anyway. So I guess on both counts my conviction was strong that my angels were listening when I wondered if someone, unprompted, would mention the time.
And now I am thinking, if angels respond so promptly and with such perfect timing to trivial requests, imagine what miracles they can do for us for the big stuff, if only we ask!
Till next time, keep believing this world is a magical place… The way I see it, the world is exactly what you think it is. And if you have the choice to decide what it is, why go for anything different? 😉
Albert Einstein said it best with this quote: “The most important question any human being can ask themselves is: ‘Is this a friendly universe?'”
Do you believe in angels? Do you have a similar tale to tell? Add a comment and share. I’d love to hear it!
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This is not the first time I approach the subject of angels and angelic messages. Those who follow my blog have already read a little about my angels from my previous posts. Plenty of times I have sought their advice when life got tough, and they also tend to contact me of their own volition whenever things in my life are about to turn scary, just to remind me I am not alone. Having had these experiences, my belief in angels is so great that I have no qualms in telling the world about them.
So, when fantasy author and blogger extraordinaire Colleen Chesebro asked me to write a guest post for her blog about something mythical or spiritual, I naturally opted to write about my angels again. I hope you will enjoy the post, which follows below.
The word ‘angel’ originates from the Greek ‘aggelos,’ which means ‘messenger.’ Many angel sightings have been recorded in the Bible; these angels appeared before the faithful to offer messages that provided assistance or hope.
Actually, angels have been recorded in the scriptures of many faiths around the world. Today, especially with the use of the Internet, it is very easy to learn more about them. People are sharing online their own testimonies, whether these involve proper angelic encounters or messages received by their angels.
They say that every one of us has a guardian angel, and I believe it firmly to be so. I have always had this intense feeling that I am being protected, for example. In my travels as a youngster around Greece and Europe, whenever I needed assistance locals would come along out of the blue to help me out without me even asking. For example, if I needed an interpreter, to lift something heavy or if I was in danger of getting stranded somewhere.
However, one particular incident stands out because it didn’t entail the assistance of a human being and, to this day, I cannot explain it unless I put it down to an angel or two…
TO READ THE REST OF THE POST, CLICK ON THE KITTY AND IT WILL MAGICALLY TRANSPORT YOU TO COLLEEN’S BLOG! IT PROMISES PLENTY OF ENCHANTING DELIGHTS. NOT JUST ANGELS, BUT FAIRIES TOO 🙂
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Hello All and Happy New Year. After a major surgery and a scary month that I like to call The Athens Hospital Tour Under Christmas Lights, I am back and, this time, fixed for good. Mind you, I’ve never felt more broken than I feel at the moment.
For one, I am suitably shocked still, seeing that I nearly lost my life last month due to severe anemia from my perimenopausal menstrual problems. The doctors at Tzaneio Hospital in Pireas saved me literally in the last minute when I was rushed there one evening with hematocrit 15.5. As they set me down on the operating table for an emergency D&C, I overheard the surgeon say it was a miracle I was alive as it was. When I was brought round afterwards, I heard the nurses discuss how scared they were to see I’d gone ‘white like marble’ while I was under. These shocking words were etched in my brain for eternity, as you can imagine.
A month later, and after a total hysterectomy, I am home and recuperating slowly. Christmas has been a blur and, despite having planned to visit Athens to see the Christmas lights more than once, I wound up visiting only city hospitals three times throughout the Holiday Season, twice in an ambulance. Through its back window, and as its siren screamed in my ears the second time, I saw the Christmas lights in Omonia Square and my heart sank. But I knew that day there would be better days and so it happened.
My physical ordeal (and mental angst) ended in exactly one month – from December 7 when I visited the hospital the first time until January 7 when I returned home after the hysterectomy.
But I’m thankful for this gruesome month. For one, it has caused quite a stir in me. You hear this in movies often, when someone escapes death and they say they feel like they’ve been given a second chance. This is exactly what this feels like to me. I remember the first time I left the hospital, right after the D&C and the blood transfusions. It was sunny that morning. I felt the warm sunlight on my face and it felt like a caress from God Himself.
As gooey as this may sound, it felt like the sunlight was giving me strength, welcoming me back to life. And since that day, I still can’t help thinking that every day is a gift now. And do you know what’s really scary? The fact that I’d never realized my continuous bouts of iron deficiency anemia involved a mortal risk. My doctors and many older females in my social circle had advised me to just be patient; to take my iron tablets and hope the ordeal will end earlier rather than later. I imagine many women must have done the same and maybe lost their lives, unaware of the risk involved just as I was. But I was lucky. Had I not decided to call a microbiologist to come home that day and check my blood, I’d never have known my hematocrit had dropped to 16 from 37 in just 5 days. Had it not been for her to alert my family to call an ambulance I would have passed away that evening in my bed, thinking it was just another hit of anemia that was causing the migraines, the weakness, and the scary palpitations.
If you’re a woman nearing 50 and battling with excessively heavy menstruations and anemia, please, do not sit patiently and suffer it. Seek help now. Take drastic measures. The doctors I’d been seeing never alerted me to the mortal danger involved. I pray yours will and that my experience will serve to help you one day to fix yourself in your own good time.
It is not often that I choose to share publicly harrowing experiences of my life. But I made an exception today for two reasons. The first was to warn other women, as I just have. The second was to share, for those among you who believe in angels, a third angel message I received while in hospital before the op.
In my previous post, About Hardship, Angels, and my New Book, I shared two angel messages that were given to me in my tiny office at home. Both messages came just before a major hardship hit my life and they gave me the strength I needed to endure. In a way, it felt like my angels (whom I’ve always felt by my side) said to me, ‘You are not alone. We are here to see you through.’
The third message came in my hospital room and this time I even had a witness. My husband, Andy, was there and he was shocked to see what happened. It was the first day, one day before the op. After sitting around the room for a while waiting for instructions and to get my blood checked, I decided to sit on the bed. As soon as I did, a man walked in whom I knew from my first stay in the hospital. The kindly man rents out flat TVs to the patients for a small fee. After I accepted his offer for one, he left a Post-It-Note-sized piece of paper that advertises his service on top of the a/c temperature control on the wall by my bed and left the room, promising to return soon with the TV.
About thirty seconds later, and while my husband was standing talking to me from the foot of the bed, the note the man had left flew off the a/c temperature control, floated in the air away from the wall and landed on the bed beside me, its blank side up. I remember vividly following it with my eyes as it approached the bed, then landed; it flew ever so slowly as if hanging in mid-air, taking its time. Here I must explain that there was no open window, hence no draft, and that the bed was not near the wall. The distance between them allows a large bedside table to fit in comfortably, so the natural thing would have been for the paper to land on the floor instead.
After both my husband and I had gasped for air, staring at the piece of paper that had landed by me smoothly as if brought there by an invisible hand, my husband said breathlessly: ‘It’s from your angels, isn’t it’?
I only nodded, as I was choking by then, full of trepidation for what awaited me the next day.
And with that, I will leave you here, wishing you health and joy this new year and always. Personally, I intend to make 2017 the best year I’ve had in a long time. My happiest thought right now involves the summer swims in store for me, both in Corfu and in my little seaside town. Daily. Without another scary pause. Ever again. Month in. Month out. Freedom from this self-induced prison and fun times at last. Again, if you are going through this too, I beg you – don’t suffer it. Do something about it today.
There is a silver lining to every cloud. There is always a rainbow after a rainfall.
God bless you all and thank you for reading. If you’ve been through a similar situation, had a hysterectomy, or have an angel story/message to share, please add a comment. I’d love to hear from you!
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Whoa! Life keeps throwing me curve balls this year. Just as I’d thought a death and a life-threatening illness among my family members weren’t enough since April, another hit of iron-deficiency anemia had me literally tumbling down last week. I can tell you, spending the last six days in a dark room with nausea and migraine has been no fun either. Okay, I’ll admit it. I got depressed. I cried. I thought to myself, why the hell this keeps happening to me? Why can’t I enjoy my life like the next person? But then, I thought of all the happy times in my past. And the fact that life likes to test us. And let’s just say that I like to get ballsy with the Fates every time they strike me down. Instead of giving up, I always ball my hands into fists and shake them at the sky, affirming hardship can only harden my determination to never let go of my dreams.
I’ve mentioned more than once in my interviews that I believe in angels. Many times I’ve felt their presence at my lowest points, and have even received unexpected messages from them when I needed strength. Like two years ago when frozen shoulder set in. From January to June that year I remember very little. I slept sparsely because the pain never let up. I spent every night wandering around the house like a zombie rubbing in heat-inducing cream and crying my eyes out. And yet, where was I every morning? At my desk. Writing. Promoting myself and others. Even on the days when my shoulder was so painful I couldn’t lift my hand off my lap. On those days I typed with one hand. I was slow. But I didn’t miss a single day’s work. That’s how I affirm my determination to the cruel Fates.
A few days before my shoulder began to freeze that fateful January, something weird happened in my office at home as I was sitting at my desk…
A post-it note fell off the pinboard on the wall before me and landed on my desk the right way up and the right way round. In this note I had written my favorite quote: “I am not a drop in the ocean. I am the ocean in a drop.”Astounded, I read it back to myself as it lay before me delivered by an invisible hand, and I knew then it was a message. And, during the five harrowing months that followed, I often thought about that note. It was meant to remind me how strong I am. It told me to brace myself.
And would you believe it? Before my mother got ill with the big C and my beloved Corfiot grandmother passed away on the island of Limnos (both last April and at the same time!), again my angels sent me a prior message. You guessed it – another item fell by an invisible hand in my office as I worked. Now, I realize I risk sounding like a rambling fool. Many will say, “it’s coincidence”, and others may even suggest earthquake tremors. And it’s your right to believe what you must. I’ll just say nothing else has ever moved of its own accord at any other time in my house. At least not when a gust of wind or very loud sound waves can explain it. Plus, my office is a tiny, windowless room and I always work in utter silence.
As with the first message, this second one came a few days before my family life turned into hell, as I explained before. This time, it was a DVD that fell off the shelf. I wasn’t anywhere near it at the time; I was working on my computer when I heard it crash to the floor. I looked down and my blood turned to ice. It was the British series, The Village. Back then, my parents and grandmother were holidaying in the village of Lychna, in Limnos – my father’s homeland. Since they’d left Athens in January I’d been having a bad feeling… like I wasn’t going to see my granny again. So when that sign came, I knew something horrible was going to happen soon. And the message was a fair warning. A way to assure me that, whatever it was this time, I wasn’t going through it alone. And again, it saw me through.
So, here I am today making a point to tell you that a) I have reasons to believe every single one of us is protected. We are not alone. If you care to believe it, it will help you through the hardest times b) I also find strength in the caring thoughts of others. For one, in the incredible love of my mother who, despite her own ordeal with chemotherapy/radiotherapy, kept bringing in cooked meals and squeezing oranges like a mad thing for me for the past few days while I was anemic.
And do you know what makes us strong? It’s love. Love for ourselves and others. And if you doubt that, just consider a hater for a minute. Won’t hard times make them bitter? Won’t they make them begrudge the joy of others? You bet. And that’s why that person has no strength. They have nothing to hold on to except for their pitiful, weakening, catastrophic hate. But love… love for our fellow humans, not just our friends and family, burning desire for our dreams, love for what we enjoy in life will see us through and help us move on in no time.
As always, we have a choice.
Even though none of us can avoid hardship, we always have the choice of how to react to it.
First, to say that Kayelle Allen’s blog, Romance Lives Forever, has presented me with the Top Blogger award and is featuring The Ebb on their left sidebar for a month as a result. If you can spare a minute, please visit Kayelle’s site and share a random post from her blog. Thank you! I’m sure she’ll also be very appreciative.
Secondly, I’ve just created a book trailer for my next book, The Amulet. And, surprise-suprise, it has angels in it! I hope you’ll enjoy it:
Update: The book is now available on Amazon in kindle and paperback. Visit now!
Till next time, keep smiling and keep believing!
Katie has a guardian angel . . . she just doesn’t know it.
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