I Need Legions of Angels God-For My Mama by Melissa Dow

imagesCAX0GX1HJuly 29, 2012

It’s taken a year for me to be able to recount here the experiences, terribly painful and yet full of God’s amazing grace, of our mother’s illness and subsequent death. I share them with you now, at the prompting of the Holy Spirit, because it’s time.

I received a call from my brother Jeff telling me that our Mom was being prepared for emergency abdominal surgery. Apparantly an abcess had developed on one end of a surgical mesh implanted six years prior during another surgery. They would have to remove the mesh and clean the infection. Mama had just turned 80 the previous February. It was to be the beginning of a downward spiral that would lead to her death by September.

I knew that I couldn’t possibly get there from Florida to Iowa before the operation, but I could pray–and pray BIG. And that’s what I did.

“Oh God…oh God, I really need your loving mercy at this hour. I need you to be in that operating room. I need angels. I need not one or two but LEGIONS of angels to be present…”

I left Mom in God’s mighty hands.

Just about at the hour surgery was to begin, I was letting our dogs outside. As I gazed at the lovely pine trees in our yard swaying in the breeze against a cloudless sky, I saw it. the vision was like viewing through a narrow lens. I saw the operating room and a large (7-8 ft tall) angel inside the door, his back against the wall, arms folded across his chest-guarding. As the view widened, like a mist clearing, I saw that the entire perimeter of the operating room was lined with similar guardians, all in the same protective pose, unmoving but watching.

I then saw the surgeon at Mom’s side about to begin. At his right hand was an angel. Then the nurses and all the techs and surgical staff, going about their tasks, each had an angel walking beside them. The vision then rested on the surgical table. I saw on the table someone I knew was Mom, draped in a white sheet. It was as if I were looking through the door because I saw Mom only from the head of the table where she lay, but I couldn’t see her face. Standing at the head of the table, leaning over my mother, was a most beautiful female angel. I viewed her from the back and she had long, long wavy hair of spun gold and she wore an incandescent pink gown. The light that surrounded her was golden, pink and pure white. She bent over Mom and was whispering something to her. Words of comfort and peace? I believe so.

I flew up the next day and spent all that night sitting in a chair in her room, watching. As I entered her room I prayed for signs of healing. The room was dark, except for the green light from the monitors casting a glow across Mom’s bed. Green. Archangel Raphael’s color, the color of healing.

The next morning I was able to talk to Mom and told her what I had seen and about the beautiful woman comforting her. We both cried. I said, “The next time you see her, Mama, tell me what she said to you…”

I stayed in town for the week until she was released to a rehab facility–which would eventually hasten her death due, in my opinion, to negligent care. I would be called back to Iowa for the second emergency surgery on August 24th.


The day before, August 23rd, my flight was routed to a layover in Charlotte and the airport was crowded. I tried to find a seat at the gate waiting area that would put me as far away from people as I could get. I was in no mood for polite conversation. The day swirled around me like a mist. The morning report was hopeful, by noon the report was ‘touch and go’. The words reverberate in my head like a gong. How can she come back from this one, God?

All the while I prayed, I talked to Mom in my heart and prayed more. Over and over I repeated “I’m coming, Mama, I’m coming.” I prayed once again for healing, asking God to send Raphael. I asked to see the green light again, indicating his healing presence.

I saw Mom in my prayers, but she was surrounded by pink, gold and pure white light. I knew that those colors represented Divine and unconditional love, that of God the Father. I knew she had heavenly protection and comfort, but I didn’t see healing. An exhausted and odd peace came over me. She may die, I hear myself say aloud. If she dies, she wins the crown of salvation and we are left with memories of her amazing, never-ending witness of faith. Her legacy. Your will be done, Heavenly Father, your will not mine…

When I arrived at the hospital, my dear friend and sister-of-the-heart, Lynn, said, “She’s been asking when you were going to get here. She said she heard you say you were coming.”

You DID hear me, Mama. You HEARD me…!

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