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Bedtime Stories from Angels to a Lonely Child
By 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.

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Table of Contents:

PREFACE
INTRODUCTION

Book I

BEDTIME STORIES
LETTERS TO LEAH
ANGEL FICTION (Or Maybe It's Real!)

Book II

PRACTICAL INFORMATION FROM ANGELS
"Goodnight," from Leah 101

Excerpts:

INTRODUCTION

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 the listener.

My Loneliness

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 needed.

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 ninth birthday.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DANIELLA!" everyone said at once.

"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 to me.

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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