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I recall a time in my life when I was sick with Hepatitis, sleeping on the floor of a broken down trailer, and working part-time at the mall to earn enough money to put gas in my car. This was a far cry from my normal state of existence, a 40ish, healthy, career woman, with a loving family and friends and no addictions of any kind.

In 2004, I had moved to a new area in the Colorado Rockies for a change of pace, and to enjoy the clean mountain air and small town pace of life. I had been living in California for many years, and always had a dream of a simple life in the mountains. Unfortunately, my life plans did not unfold as I had hoped they would. I ran out of money trying to find a job after several months. I never expected to be unable to find decent work within a reasonable amount of time. I have technical skills, and was always able to easily find work in the past. I began to realize that the small town appeal brought with it some real disadvantages. The opportunities were very limited for professionals, even though I was within an hour of Denver.

My situation became so desperate I didn't have gas money to put in my car to drive to the East Coast to move in with my sister or mother. I was alone and stranded in the middle of the country. Fortunately, I made a new acquaintance in the area who offered to allow me to “crash” in a trailer she was trying to sell. She had moved to another city, and the trailer was not being used. It was the middle of winter in central Colorado, and having lived in California for many years, I wasn't accustomed to the harsh winter in the Rockies. I was sleeping on the floor of a rodent-infested trailer, where mice were literally crawling up the walls during the night. I knew if I could only find decent work, I could change my situation quickly. From the darkness of that trailer, I got up every day and pulled myself together to interview for jobs day after day. The situation became graver after I took in a stray cat that had been sleeping on the ground outside the trailer. I was deeply lonely and depressed, and I thought the cat was as sad and homeless as I was, so I invited him in for company. I thought we needed one another. This proved to be a near fatal mistake. From the cat, I contracted hepatitis B and a rare infection that attacked my small intestines. I had no money, no job, no health insurance, and I was dangerously ill.

During this time, my family was unable to provide financial support, so I turned to a couple of dear friends for small loans to help me get through. If not for my friends, I'm not sure I would have survived the excruciating circumstances in which I found myself in Colorado after six months. Eventually, I began to meet people in the area, and I came to understand that my new town was home to many gifted alternative healers. These people helped keep me alive, even though my funds were limited.

Toward Christmas-time, I was able to secure a part-time job in a store at the mall, and I made enough money to put gas in my car, pay most of my bills, contribute to the healers assisting me, and eat at least one meal everyday. It was life-changing to see the residents of my town spending money on products in the mall when I could barely afford a meal. There were days when I did not eat. Since I needed strength to regain my health, I sat in my car in the parking lot at the mall after work one night and prayed. I prayed deeply and specifically. I said to the angels, my guides, and the loving higher power to hear my request for food. “I need to eat a decent meal, Lord God and Angels on High,” I prayed, “I need food so that I can get well and go on with my purpose for being here. Please help me.” And then I cried.

Here is the most MAGNIFICANT part of my story. I said that prayer in the parking lot and then drove home with barely the gas in my car to make it. I was riding on pure faith. I drove up to the dim trailer where I was sleeping at about 10:30 pm. As I pulled into the driveway, the snow crunched under my tires, and the wipers strained to push the ice from my windshield. Although the car window was foggy, I noticed something on the porch of the trailer that had not been there before. I blinked my eyes a few times for clarity and slowly exited my car, looking all around for any sign of a person who may have paid me a visit. I saw no one, but there on my feebly lit porch, in the cold night air sat two brown bags filled with fresh groceries.

My mind raced. Who could have left me this glorious gift of food? I'd been very private about the depth of my financial crisis; even to the healers I was seeing. No one, including my family knew where I lived. It could have only been a neighbor or the woman who owned the trailer. There was no other possibility. I immediately knocked on my neighbors’ doors to ask about the food. No one had knowledge of it.Then I called the owner of the trailer. She said, “I wish it had been me, but it wasn’t. I'm stuck here in Longmont and couldn't have made it down there even if I wanted to.”

A most surprising and amazing aspect of the mystery groceries is that once I unpacked them, I realized they included some of my favorite foods. If I had been given fifty dollars to buy myself groceries that night, I'd have purchased many of the items that were in the bags left sitting clandestinely on the porch. To this day, no one in my life has taken credit for the gifted food. But in a way, those two bags of groceries saved my life. I had food to eat for a week. I became stronger and got better physically. After the miracle of the groceries, my faith was strengthened, and my spiritual vigor increased. It was only a few weeks later that I was offered a very good job back in my normal profession, and I was able to move into a healthy environment within two months. You might say that the groceries were magnificent, because they were the injection of positive energy I needed to go on.

Of course, many logical explanations went through my mind. Perhaps someone ordered groceries from a nearby store and they were delivered to my porch by mistake. Maybe an acquaintance left them anonymously, so as to avoid injury to my pride. Or, there may have been a local non-profit organization or shelter that heard about my plight and sent the groceries to assist me. Although I researched these possibilities, I only reached dead ends. Soon enough, I came to accept that there may not have been a logical explanation for the gift, and I made peace with the fact that I had received a miracle.

Who was listening to my prayer on that cold winter night in Colorado? And, who was it that had the power to deliver bags of groceries, a very tangible gift to my doorstep?

I 've shared this story with a few chosen friends over the past couple of years, and I discovered that some of them have experienced similar events during their lives. For example, a friend in California told me that when she was raising her two young children as a single mother on the East Coast, she had moved to a new town and had no friends. She was very low on funds, and couldn't afford a Christmas for her daughters. She had prayed that somehow she would be able to provide a holiday for her family. She explained that a few days later, a fully decorated Christmas tree was left lying on her doorstep. There was no note. She is adamant that she shared her situation with no one, and that she was too proud to ask a local charity for help. She still has no rational explanation for the lovely tree, but it helped to provide a loving, and healing Christmas for her children that year.

I also heard a wonderful story from my friend, J. She describes that during college she was embarrassed to attend physical education class because of the condition of her socks. She could not afford to buy new socks, and was forced to wear torn ones that she had mended repeatedly until they were falling apart. She remembers quietly asking for help, wondering how she could afford a pair of new socks. One day as she was returning home, there on the doorknob of her apartment was a plastic sack. It contained one pair of new, white athletic socks. She swears that she told no one about her need for new socks. It was a quiet request she made in prayer at a time of need.

Although I often think of Angels as spiritual helpers, I came to realize that there may be Angels working in the physical dimension. I now call them the Angelic Secret Society. They are beautiful, radiant, and working undercover obviously needing little recognition for the miracles they deliver to those who ask for help during the darkest times. No request is too small for this Angelic group, and I believe they are a very special order of Light Workers who come to the rescue when they are needed the most. I thank them for their miracles, and the Moments of Magnificence they have quietly granted.

Note: If you would like to share a moment of magnificence with the author of this column, please write to Karenadbailey@gmail.com.

by K. Bailey | Email me if you questions or comments | Back to List of Articles