How to make friends with the guardian angel?
How many I remember, in the childhood I was always afraid of something: terrifying stories, rustles in the house, noisy human meetings, all at that time I could not explain or understand. Generally, I considered myself as the gloomy coward and probably waited for a miracle which would change my life.
The answer was itself. To me was years nine. Mother, the brother and I lodged in the old wooden house with awful (for me!) subfloor and the entrance which does not have a door on an attic. After war poor rural life in the remote urban area did not inspire optimism too. And if to consider stories “ expert “ acquaintances about our new dwelling, of course, my fears found improbable scope.
That morning, about four hours, I was woken by a loud voice. Someone called me by name under a house window, but at the same time it seemed as if the sound passed long distance as if it is not call, but its echo. I was pressed in a pillow and stood. Call repeated several times until out of catalepsy I was brought by mother`s words: “ Yes leave you! Really you do not hear? “. I almost mechanically sliped by the gaping black mouth of an attic in pre-dawn darkness, is faster - to people. The street met me by silence: around was not a soul. Having driven by a back into the corner houses, I for some reason began to call not to the girlfriends, but the brother`s friends on names. Nobody answered, even the nature as though stood. The new wave of fear pushed me into the house, back - into a bed.
Mother already gathered for work, but, having felt wrong, tried to return me confidence: “ Toys at you Go at night, all. Somebody joked … “ I pretended that I sleep. In other day so also it happened (I like to sleep late and now). When mother with the brother left, I hurried to leave the frightening place too. In the forenoon wandered at the river and about streets.
Legs brought me home... To the former house. All morning neighbors extinguished the fire, tried to make the way to the room filled with fire because mother who came running from work claimed that I remained there, in a bed. So by the time of my return many already counted me died. At this moment I understood: call at dawn was voice of my Keeper. And fear? - And how it was still possible to turn out the coward if it is already impossible to change foreordained?
A little later mother told me about the father. He very much wanted the daughter and as mother spoke, till my birth knew that future child - the girl. On the front the father left at once, in June, 1941 - go. In August, 1942 - go using a convenient opportunity for an time has come, around home, to visit a family, to look at the long-awaited daughter. Then he promised that he will never leave me whatever it happened. In 1943 - m the father died.
Then, the little girl, me it was simpler to accept the help from the native person, than to look for the ultraboundary reasons of strange rescue, and I convinced myself of what my father with me that he protects me and supports. Almost suddenly all my fears evaporated. Forces were supported by understanding of simple truth: for the living person it is impossible to win against death, but whether it is worth making the life precious miserable fear?
My keeper still nearby. At the most difficult and dangerous moments he tries to warn me, sometimes prompts an exit, offers the choice. No, he is not a seller in shop, and in clear very seldom reports to me about something. You know how speak: all one to one develops, as on written. We are connected (it is a pity, I do not know as!) surprisingly strongly. Mine - and not only mine: needs of familiar people when I am able to take heart them for the - strong desires and feelings (if they not momentary and do not go to harm to somebody) surely materialize. It too for me turned into an axiom.
The only thing that disturbs: I did not learn to control the emotions, and the rage, rejection of the specific person happen so strong that can do physical harm to the offender. Unfortunately, I not always can “ to smooth “ the taken-off angry thought, the word which is not bearing good. The result is, as a rule, not pleasant for the addressee: from an illness to a strip of ordinary failures - here already “ I order “ not I. On the contrary, I try " more often; to return “ a moment to pray for forgiveness the miss. Here when you remember a bible precept purity of thoughts!
By the way, the father in our church told me that “ all my stories not about God`s affairs “. And you - that as think?