Free Angels in My Hair by Lorna Byrne Page B

her angel attracted my attention, shaking her
finger.
    I realised that the woman had put bad apples among those
Mum was buying and her angel was talking to her, but she was
not listening. Her angel continued wagging her finger. I
couldn't keep a straight face and I giggled out loud. The
woman glanced sharply at me. I could see from her eyes that
she knew I had seen what she was doing. Suddenly the bag
broke and the fruit went everywhere. The woman tried to
catch it and she did grab an apple – it was rotten! I know this
wasn't by chance, her angel and my angel allowed it to happen,
which made me laugh even more.
    Mum noticed the rotten apple and said, 'I hope you're not
giving me bad fruit.'
    The woman denied it as she filled a new bag and glanced
guiltily at me. Mum paid her and I put the bag of fruit into the
trolley. As we walked away the woman called out in her broad
Dublin accent, 'Hey, Missus!'
    Mum turned around and the woman was holding out a bag.
    'Here, Missus! Some extra fruit for your kids!' Her angel was
standing behind her, smiling – finally she was being listened
to.
    I have been down Moore Street many times since, both as a
child and as an adult, but it has never again come alive to that
extent. I know that just because I don't see something, it
doesn't mean it's not happening. The angels know they cannot
allow me to see everything that is going on all the time; if they
did it would be too much for me and it would make it
impossible for me to live my daily life – I would be too
distracted.
    The angels taught me a lot about the idea of choice, too, and
one afternoon they helped me to understand that it is never too
late for us to change our minds and make the right choice, and
also how much angels can help us to make the right choice –
if we choose to listen.
    I enjoyed doing messages for Mum as I could be alone and
free to talk to the angels. I enjoyed skipping with them and
watching the birds and trees. On this particular afternoon, I
was about halfway to the shops when the angels told me, 'Stop,
Lorna! We want you to have a look at something that is going
on in another street, so we can explain some things to you.
When you get to the main street, instead of going left for the
shops and crossing the road, we want you to go right and just
keep walking straight on.'
    So that was exactly what I did, and when I got there I saw
loads of furniture out on the footpath and a police car and
people gathered around. There was an old man coming out of
his hall door and walking with the help of a walking stick, and
all his furniture and belongings were there on the street. I was
very shocked; that sight has stayed with me all my life.
    'Angels,' I said, 'what is happening to this poor man?'
    I stood there on the footpath, looking across the street at all
this happening. Then the angels started to talk.
    'Lorna, the old man has lived in that house all his life. It's his
house, but as he got older he became stubborn and refused to
pay his taxes. He had a choice: he could have paid – he has the
money – and none of this would have happened. If he was still
talking to his family they might have helped him to make the
right choice, but because of his stubbornness he is not
speaking to them. He is on his own, for now.'
    I asked the angels who the woman was who was trying to
talk to him: if it was his daughter, and he might listen to her or
not. They replied, 'Lorna, can't you see his angels whispering
in his ear. He does hear them, you know! See, he is crying now.
He is letting his daughter take his arm. Now he is starting to
make the right choices. It is never too late to make the right
choice, if we are prepared to listen.'
    'I understand,' I said, 'will you angels always help me to
make the right choices?'
    'Yes, Lorna, we will,' they replied.
    Sometimes, things only seem like tragedies. That's the way it
was with Da's accident.
    He was working for a big petrol company, delivering
paraffin, and there was an