Angel Music Story
I had a wonderfully wild childhood. This is my divine intervention angel music story. In 1946, when I was six month old, my father and mother went to Kodiak Alaska, and started a seaplane business that serviced the island's villages and canneries. Alaska was still a territory then, and we had few modern amenities. There were no paved roads, only widened cow paths. There was no clothing store, so everything was ordered from catalogs and mailed to us from "the States". Folks literally lived off the land and the sea, and we all worked hard and were happy. There were only three churches in town: a Roman Catholic, a Russian Orthodox and a Community Baptist Church where our family attended. Every summer the kids went to nearby Woody Island or Long Island for church camp and stayed in abandoned WW11 barracks. Norman and Joyce Smith were missionaries that had a boat called The Evangel that took us to camp. We all grew up taking for granted that we belonged to God and that He loved us, just as kids assume that the love and care of their earthly families provide, will always be there also.
My divine intervention story continues. On Good Friday, March 27th, 1964, my senior year in High School, I flew to Anchorage for a monthly orthodontic appointment, and stayed with family friends, Bud and Arneil Tout, and their five year old son, Kenny. When Arneil picked me up from the dental office, we went to JC Penney so we could buy some blue terry cloth and a pattern to make Bud a birthday bathrobe. We dashed home, quickly cut out the material, and I took the pieces to the basement to begin sewing while Arneil started dinner. Kenny was in the bathtub. The sewing machine was against the cinder block wall, and I was listening to some rock and roll music on the radio. All of a sudden a rumbling sound started and the floor began to quiver. The DJ on the radio said "Hey, it's shaking up here!", and the radio went dead. The noise became deafening, and the shaking became violent. I ran for the stairway that came down from the kitchen and started climbing. The steps fell down to the floor, and if it had not been for the poles on each side of the stairway, I would not have made it to the floor above. I just swung from pole to pole until I could reach the doorknob, then went through the door. Dishes and canned goods were flying out of the cupboards and hitting me. Arneil was in the bathroom getting Kenney out of the tub. I ran into the Living Room mostly to get away from the danger in the kitchen. I was beside a Large window and knew if it broke I would be cut. I hollered to Arneil saying that we needed to get out of the house. She held Kenny, wrapped in a towel, and we went out the door onto the walkway that ran along the garage wall. The walkway was tipping toward the wall, and the wall was slowly falling onto the ground. Arneil and Kenny fell into the crack between the walk and garage as the wall settled onto them. The end of the sidewalk, where I was, broke off and I fell about twenty feet into a deep crack in the ground.
By the time I climbed out, the garage was mostly buried in the snow and dirt, and I couldn't see Arneil and Kenny anywhere. I screamed and screamed, but nobody answered. All around me houses were being shaken into crevices, cars were falling out of garages, trees and telephone poles were splitting, the frozen ground was heaving and falling, and the noise was unbelievable! I cried out, "Please, God, don't let me die!", but next immediately asked Him, "just don't let it hurt too much." Right away an invisible dome was slowly lowered over me, and the terrible noise of my world gradually went away. When it was very, very silent, a sound started that I can still to this day only describe as "Angel Music". It wasn't instrumental, just a a beautiful, beautiful sound that completely filled me with a perfect sense of love and peace. Angel music held me in a 'God hug' until I sighed out all my anxiety and gave in fully to the embrace. I felt like my head was rested against His chest. I was aware of His arms securely enfolding me. Not too tight, not too loose, just strong and safe. Then the invisible dome slowly lifted, the 'Angel Music' faded, and the earthquake noise filled the air again.
But now something was different. As the liquefied earth was flowing toward the sea, I knew to climb upstream. I lost my shoes in the hip-deep snow, but knew not to worry about them. I knew to watch for live electric wires snaking across the snow; most importantly, I knew I would be saved! I fell into another deep trench, and found the two-year-old neighbor boy, Roger Fisher (we all called him RaRa) buried in the mud. I pulled him out and heaved him up the hill. When he hit the hard ground, it knocked the wind out of him. Then he would cry and I would pick him up, hug him, tell him I was sorry, and toss him through the air again across another crevasse. When RaRa and I were on top of an earth wave, I looked up the hill and saw his babysitter, her brother, and RaRa's brother trying to climb over a car that was halfway still in a garage, and half way hanging over a precipice. I screamed with all my might, and even though I couldn't hear myself, the teenaged babysitter did. I pointed to her danger, and she looked at me for direction. I waved for her to come back down the hill of flowing earth and angle toward me. To this day I am amazed at the courage it took for her to obey my instructions. We struggled toward each other, and then headed back upstream to level ground. When we reached the top, I saw a jeep and two men about half a block down the snow-packed street. I yelled and waved, but the earth broke off and we all slid and tumbled about fifty feet downhill.
When we reached the top again, they pulled us up and carried us to the jeep. My bare feet were numb and badly cut. All of us were bruised, freezing and out of breath. The babysitter told the men where her home was and they drove us there. It was a metal Quonset hut with a brick chimney in the middle. We were placed on a bed and several Eskimo parkas were used to cover us. I had a Fisher boy in each arm, and we lay there and shook for hours!
Every time we had an aftershock, chimney bricks would rattle down the metal roof! All through the night I heard my name on the radio broadcast of the folks who were buried and presumed dead in the Turnagain Arm area. I prayed that my family back in Kodiak would not hear. Early Saturday morning, two Civil Defense men came to the back door, so we gave them our names to take to headquarters. Later they came and took the boys to one of the two centers, and Bud came and picked me up. We talked awhile, and finally I was able to see that only Arneil could have reported my name that was on the list of the dead! So she was alive! We went back to the Turnagain Arm area where his home had been. We found part of the roof and an attic window. On our way out, we saw Mr. Fisher picking up wreckage and calling for his sons. It gave me great joy to tell him they were safe and sound at the Civil Defense Center! I wanted to tell him also about the angel music.
Later that day, we found the Fisher family, Arneil and Kenny at a friend's home. Kenny had stitches down the backs of both is legs where the garage wall had cut him as his mother pulled him out. And RaRa came running across the living room and threw his mother pulled him out. And RaRa came running across the Living Room and threw his little arms around my legs in a hug! Even though I had hurt him, he still loved me!
The next morning, Easter Sunday, the airport on the Naval Base on Kodiak was repaired enough for a plane to take me home. The manager of pacific Northern Airlines, Ray Martin, was a good gamily friend. He came on board and carried me off. After he took care of business, he drove me towards town. On the way, my family met us, and the tears flowed with joy!
I knew from that divine intervention that our Father God was real. I know that heaven has the most amazing, indescribably beautiful divine 'Angel Music'! I know that He loves us, His children. I know He has a special, tailor-made plan for each of us. Even though I can't carry a tune in a bucket, I hope to be part of that Angel choir some sweet day! I also know that sometimes I still take Him for granted. At one time in my life, I even separated myself from him for about fifteen years, but He still loves me, and with angel music will bring me back.
That story is to come....
This divine intervention angel music story
Stories Part One
Stories Part Two
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