version directly from the Author
Stories from Angels to a Lonely Child
Daniel Raphael, Ph.D.
This book sprang out of conversations with
my Guardian Angel, and the voiced need of
parents that their children were personally
interested in angels. The book provides two
parts: story tales, and instructions on how
to talk to your Guardian Angel.
Table of Contents:
LETTERS TO LEAH
FICTION (Or Maybe It's Real!)
PRACTICAL INFORMATION FROM ANGELS
"Goodnight," from Leah 101
Bedtime stories represent the fullness of
life for a child. Telling or reading bedtime
stories embodies the best that parents can
give to their child. Reading stories becomes
a shared experience of both the storyteller
and the listener. Reading bedtime stories is
a time of bonding between parent and child
through the shared experience in their
imaginations. Often the words of fairy tales
and lore melt the seams between imagination
and dreaming for both the storyteller and
This first story is the recollection by a
young mother, whose name is Daniella, of her
own lonely childhood. It recounts the time
before the bedtime stories began. It ends
with her vow to God that if she ever became
a mother when she grew up that she would
always read bedtime stories to her own
children, and to any child who was lonely.
My first memory was of myself standing in my
crib, hanging onto the railing and crying
and sobbing for hours. I was alone. I could
hear my parents downstairs, and I am sure
they could hear me crying in my room, but
they didn't come to me.
My name is Daniella. I'm twenty-seven years
old, married, and my husband and I have a
daughter. Her name is Rebecca, and we love
her so very much. Her father and I never
leave her to cry alone. That is part of a
vow I made when I was younger. I vowed that
I would never let my child cry alone as I
did when I was a child.
As I grew older, my tears turned inward so
that I cried only inside my heart. When I
played alone in my room with my dolls and
toys I often sobbed to myself, but I didn't
have any tears.
There were lots of kids like me in our
neighborhood. We all lived in big houses and
had lots of toys, swing sets, and some of us
even had a swimming pool. But most of us
were left alone, except when our parents had
parties and let us kids play together.
Looking back upon those years, I realize
that the children in our neighborhood were
treated just like Christmas tree ornaments.
We were taken out at special times to show
others, then put away when we were not
Besides the memory of crying in my crib, I
have three other memories of my loneliness.
The first memory is that I would wander
around the house running my finger along the
walls without taking my finger off the wall.
I would end up going outside, around the
house, inside the garage, the closets,
bathrooms, and everywhere the wall led me. I
could do that as long as I didn't touch any
of the pretty things or move them from one
place to another. The second memory is about
me wandering around the house dragging my
dolly by her arm beside me. It seemed like I
would just wander around the house for hours
dragging my dolly beside me. I would look up
at the high ceilings, the hanging lamps, and
pictures on the wall just walking around the
house from one room to another. It was a way
of staying busy while also being so lonely.
An Angel Appears
How my Guardian Angel became known to me is
an especially good memory, a happy memory I
shall never forget. In all the years since
that time, I can recall very vividly and
clearly how it all came about. I wonder now
whether my angel helped arrange her
appearance in such a wonderful way. It
certainly began in a very special way on my
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DANIELLA!" everyone said at
"Go ahead, make a wish, and blow out the
candles," my mom said.
I closed my eyes, squeezing them very tight
as though squeezing them more tightly would
assure that my wish would come true. I
opened my eyes and stared at the candles and
took a big breath. There were only nine
candles on the very large cake, so I knew I
could blow them all out at once. And I did.
Then everyone sang the happy birthday song
As I opened my presents, the guests my
parents had invited watched me tear at the
ribbon and paper. Everyone was saying "Ooooo,"
and "Aahhh," every time a new present
appeared. But I was not listening to them or
even hearing the paper being ripped and torn
by my hands. All I heard was the words of my
birthday wish repeated over and over again
in my mind, "I wish God would answer my
prayers for my own angel storyteller." "I
wish God would answer my prayers for my own
angel storyteller." "I wish God would answer
my prayers for my own angel storyteller."
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