Angels Sang Away Her Fear

Blogger Sophy Burnham shares the story of angelic sounds that brought one woman peace after her mother’s passing.


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One of the most interesting things about the angel stories I receive is the writer’s insistence about how “normal” she is (it’s virtually always a woman; only occasionally is it a man).

“Let me assure you, I am not a ‘kook,’ ” writes one; “I won’t bore you with details defending my ‘normal human’ status,” writes another. And then they recount a tale so remarkable that you are grateful to be human and ordinary, wounded or defenseless, for it is to these that miracles occur—or angels come.

But what is most remarkable is that always, no matter in what form the angel comes, no matter what it does or says or does not say, what you feel is warmth, joy, safety. You are washed with unfathomable love. And there is beauty and peace, too.

I’ve spoken in earlier blogs about the angels that come as Light. Today I’ll talk of sound. In my book A Book of Angels, I tell several stories of people who heard choirs of angels. This story is one I haven’t told before.

It happened to a woman in New York. Her mother had just died, the mother who had been her closest friend and who died in her arms as she was holding her, hugging her, telling her how beautiful she was. (Can anyone imagine a finer way to go?)

Afterward, however, the daughter was afraid to stay in the house alone, much less go into the bedroom where her beloved mother had died, so a niece came to stay with her.

One night she woke up to the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. The only way to describe it, she says, is “angelic or heavenly.” It sounded like her mother’s voice, but younger. It wasn’t a song, but a kind of lilting melodic rise and fall of notes. She sat up. She pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. The singing lasted for only about three minutes, and when it stopped she lay down and drifted back to sleep. In the morning she felt completely filled with peace. All fear was gone. She felt fine being alone in the house. She felt sure, she wrote me, that it was sign her mother was all right, in a better place.

“I wish I could hear it again,” she continued. “It was the most peaceful sound in the world—or rather not in this world.”

And I assure you that all the people who hear such singing agree on these descriptions: the most beautiful. The most calming. The most loving. The voice of angels singing away our fears.

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