The Angel of Healing Visits

God never fails to surprise me.  

I was lazily walking by the Thames river on the side of Kingston, watching the swans which looked more laid back this time of the year, when I noticed that the foot and bikers' path was longer than my friend and I thought when we went for a stroll last Autumn. I felt drawn to walk as far as my legs could manage, conscious that I had to take frequent breaks so as not to strain my spine. I then spotted what looked to me as a church. It was up on the other side of the road though and there was no path to the main road near my location so I decided to simply take a few photos from afar and continue walking.  After walking barely a hundred meters I found myself at  the end of the foot path and saw a way out to the main road. Great!  I would walk till that church - whatever church it was - walk back to the riverbank, and head for brunch by the riverbank.

Drawing closer to the marker, I discovered that it was a Catholic church.  Two things caught my eyes and plucked at my heartstrings:   (1) a line saying, "All are welcome", on the marker just outside the church, and (2) a poster on post-abortion recollection on the bulletin board by the church's door.  This church is something, I thought to myself.  And so, I quietly opened the door to the church where I found a man praying.  I took a sit at the back pew and simply allowed myself to take in the energy of the place and there, in the quiet of my outer and inner sacred spaces, I felt the Spirit calling to me. As if in orchestration with the divine plan, the man left after a few minutes and I had the church all to myself - save for the two older women who were cleaning up as the mass had just ended.  

I then found myself in tears for no particular reason other than that of feeling so loved and welcomed by my God. The image that lingered for a long while was that of sitting on the lap of my father-God image, being completely accepted and unconditionally loved.  I then found myself contemplating on my many inner abortions, the many instances I had opted not to participate in giving life to certain aspects of my Self that God was inviting me to co-create with Her.  I was sobbing at this point, no longer mindful of the two women.  Rather than guilt, what I felt was great love.  I have never felt so loved;  I have never felt God's love penetrating the whole of my body, mind, and spirit  (although I am sure that it was not so much a case of God's love not being as present before as I not being attuned to God's promptings).  I just stayed and sat quietly, savoring God's loving embrace. And then I felt it coming. . . the invitation towards self-forgiveness.  I felt forgiven for my self-abortion.  Was I ready to forgive myself?  And then I saw the image of God again, this time looking at me lovingly.  Another batch of tears came rolling down my eyes and face and neck, and then some quiet.  

It was at this point that one of the women approached me and asked me in a way so concerned and loving, "Are you OK?"  She then told me without being intrusive or sounding lectury at all that it is in moments of pain when God is nearest.  After assuring her that I was fine and just wanted some space and found their church really warm and welcoming, she said goodbye and promised to pray for whatever was in my heart. 

I would find out later that the Archangel Raphael, who is not as famed as his pals Gabriel and Michael, is the angel of healing. No wonder, I left the church feeling very light - a lightness that came from a feeling of being forgiven and deeply loved, of having forgiven and released myself from some unnecessary bondage. 

(The St. Raphael church is a very small parish church, truly small in comparison with the parish churches here in the Philippines.  Yet, God used this small church as an instrument to make me feel His immense love and experience healing.)