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Angels Without Wings: Four Stories of Heavenly Visitors

Angels Without Wings: Four Stories of Heavenly Visitors

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Angels Without Wings: Four Stories of Heavenly Visitors

121 pagine
2 ore
Jun 1, 2011


"Angels Without Wings" consists of four facinating stories of ordinary people who found themselves in desparate situations and in need of a miracle. At the point of utmost desparation... the point when they thought that all hope was gone.. the point where only a supernatural occurrance could succor them, they suddenly found themselves in the presence of strangers who miraclously appeared, removed the threat from their circumstance and disappeared just as quickly as they had appeared, never to be seen again. "Angels Without Wings" is a book which provides "proof positive" that there are in fact, Heavenly Beings sent by God, who quietly walk amoung us, and surface when the need arises.

Jun 1, 2011

Informazioni sull'autore

Eva Smith was born in Fayetteville, North Carolina. She moved to Brooklyn, NY shortly after graduating from Fayetteville State University several years ago, and taught in the public school system there. Deemed a master teacher, she was taken out of the classroom and assigned the job “teacher-trainer” and given the responsibility of teaching first year teachers and para-professionals how to teach reading to struggling elementary students. She was subsequently employed by the State University of New York and held many posts during her tenure in the university system, including assistant director of Career Planning and Placement, assistant director of EOC (Educational Opportunity Centers), assistant director of EOP (Educational Opportunity Programs), Counselor for special programs, tutor coordinator and Director of Student Activities. Eva is now a retired college administrator, but before leaving the state of New York, she was appointed by the mayor of Syracuse to the position of First Deputy Commissioner for the department of Parks and Recreation. Now back at home, she teaches in the Cumberland County school system, and spends her free time decorating, entertaining and looking forward to publishing her next books, You Were There All The Time, and the Power of Friendship. Eva Smith is author of the eloquently written book, Through the Darkness, also published by Authorhouse.

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Angels Without Wings - Eva Smith


1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

Phone: 1-800-839-8640

© 2011 Eva Smith. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse   5/26/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4567-6349-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-6348-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-6350-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011907415

Printed in the United States of America

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.


This book is dedicated to all the heavenly visitors who walk among us daily, and to the rest of us fortunate enough to be touched by their presence.

Also to the memory of my mother Henrietta McEachern, my father, D.Hector McEachern, my sisters, Lubertha Virgil and Inez Carver, and my brother, James (Buddy) McEachern, all of whom I’m sure, have made many visits back to earth and have led numerous people out of difficult situations.


This book would not have been written had it not been for the input and encouragement of some very special people.

I am grateful to my friends Bolita Scott, Annie Harris and Joseph Kelly for the input they provided for our story, Cashiers, Guards and Gifts.

My coworkers Nadine Miller-Bernard and Linda Sexton merit special mention for sharing personal experiences and allowing me to use them for our Snakes, Lizards, Marshmallows and Missy story.

I extend special thanks to my family, especially my siblings, Lois Butler, Emma Willis and Hector McEachern, Jr. who have always encouraged me, but who insisted that I put my own Blizzard of 77 experience in print.


The Horror of Hurricane Katrina

Cashiers, Guards and Gifts

Snakes, Lizards, Marshmallows and Missy

Warm Blanket, Warm Soup and the Rage of the Blizzard…


I need an Angel…Send me an Angel…I need an Angel now.

Many of us picture creatures of great height and strength when we think of Angels. Some of us picture Angels as Beings encased in a glow of bright light, while others see creatures in flight with big gossamer wings. Still others picture Angels as beautiful ladies with round smiling faces, adorned in white robes with glistening tassels and dainty wings. But all of us are mindful of the Proverb which admonishes us to be careful how we treat strangers because we may be entertaining Angels unaware.

However you picture Angels, this author shares four extraordinary experiences which demonstrate that there are times when Angels appear as just ordinary people with no wings, no tassels, no robes, no lights. They are just people who come to our rescue at a time when we need them most.

You will enjoy these encounters! You will find them heart wrenching; you will find them heartwarming. They will elevate your Spirit; they will give you hope and leave you with the comfort of knowing that the next time you find yourself in a situation too difficult for you to handle, you should not feel that the situation is hopeless…helpless. You are probably not alone. Help is sure to appear just in the nick of time…help in the form of Angels without Wings!

Emma Willis, Ph.D.

Retired Elementary Teacher, Minister,



I believe in Angels. Many people do not because of all the unanswered questions surrounding them: Who are they? What are they? What do they look like? Where do they come from? Where do they live? Although there may not be definitive answers to those and the many other questions asked about angels, there seem to be as many words describing the acts of angels, as there are questions about them…Guiding, revealing, protecting, delivering, strengthening and encouraging are just a few. I believe that the primary function of angels is to bring help to people when help is needed most.

Angels without Wings tells three separate but equally provocative stories about people in situations which may have ended in death, had it not been for the appearance of supernatural beings who intervened. Each of these stories is based on the events of real life experiences. Each story proves that there are angels who walk in our midst disguised as humans… anxious to help us, waiting to deliver us, ready to protect us…Beings whom I choose to call Angels without Wings.

Eva Smith

The Horror of Hurricane Katrina

Mr. Jones hung on to the tree, clinging to it with every ounce of energy he had left. Periodically he looked down, devastated by the number of dead bodies that swiftly floated past him in the water below. He prayed that none of the bodies he saw were bodies of the family members he had left behind. The water continued to rise to the point of almost touching his bare feet. He was tired and hungry. His clothes were wet and stuck to his body like a second skin, and his fingers were raw from holding so tightly onto the tree that had saved his life. But now, Mr. Jones was at the point of giving up … of letting go of that tree, allowing his body to go limp and plunge down into that dirty infested water beneath him. He was a good swimmer; maybe he could swim to get help for his family. Maybe there’d be a boat somewhere nearby waiting to rescue stranded people like him. He looked down at the water once again, still not convinced that he should take that leap. Suddenly, he saw what he had been dreading for the three hours that he’d been hanging on that tree … the body of a little boy wearing a red T-shirt just like the one his son Barry had been wearing the last time he had seen him. Oh my God, he thought to himself. Could that be my little Barry? Could that be my baby? In a split second, the little body was gone, floating amid crates, boxes, sofas, and Lord knows what else. He hadn’t seen the boy’s face and could not say for sure that it was Barry, but the skin tone was the same, the size of the body was the same, and it had drifted from the direction of his home. It had to be Barry. But if that were Barry, he thought, where was everybody else? Where was the rest of the family? Could it have been that some of the bodies he’d seen floating by were members of his family? Tears began to fall from his eyes and mix with the water that had already saturated his face. Mr. Jones screamed out loud, Oh, Lord! Oh my God! Why did I leave them? Why did I leave my family? If only I hadn’t left them. If only I had stayed!

He clung to the tree remembering the last few minutes he’d spent with his family … remembering the days just before the storm. He and his two boys—Barry, who was seven, and Frederick, who was thirteen—and his wife, Freda, had spent those days preparing for hurricane Katrina. Amber, the Jones’s only daughter, was just four years old; old enough to get in everybody’s way and much too young to have a clue of what all the fuss was about.

They were much better prepared for this hurricane than they’d been for the others. Although warnings about the severity of Katrina had been bellowing over the airwaves for days, they decided that if they could survive hurricanes Andrew and Charley, they could survive Katrina, too, so they repeated—and in fact doubled—the precautions they’d taken in preparing for those storms. He and Freda had bought enough food to last for at least two weeks; they didn’t think they’d need more. Mr. Jones and his boys had boarded up all the windows and fortified all the weak parts of their modest two-story house to make certain that the wind and rains would not seep in. Despite all the desperate warnings and pleas from authorities to evacuate the city, the Joneses were prepared to hunker down and stay in their home in the ninth ward until the storm had passed.

The day before the storm, Freda had prepared meals that wouldn’t spoil so that they could still eat if the power was knocked out for a period of time. Mr. Jones had purchased batteries for the radio and flashlights, and bought candles, first aid kits, and extra bottled water just in case. They collected all the blankets and pillows in the house and stored them in the living room so that they could all sleep together until the storm passed. The Joneses thought of everything; they were ready. When the storm hit land early one morning, the five of them gathered together in the living room and quietly waited. The rains were the first to come, then the winds; loud, strong, violent winds that wasted no time tearing away at the weakest point of their house’s structure. The winds came in waves at first, wailing loudly with each gust. The attack seemed endless. With each gust, the Joneses huddled closer together like newborn puppies in a cold barn, not moving except for an impulsive flinch each time a large object hit the house. For the longest time no one said a word, but everyone’s thoughts were consumed with the same question: When will this be over? The noise caused by the wind and rain eventually grew louder, and at times it felt as though the house would be blown off its foundation; still, no one uttered a sound. Mr. Jones, however, couldn’t help but wonder if he and Freda had made a mistake by not leaving when they’d had the chance. Hours passed and the brutal and powerful assault on their house continued.

Amber was the first to scream when they heard a loud crashing noise in the kitchen. She was far too young to remember the other hurricanes and could not for the life of her understand what was happening. Mr.

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