And when they were all asked by the Master to give a treasured possession to his Son, the little angel, armed with his newfound self-assurance, proudly marched up and placed his box of memories on the table among all the fancier gifts from heaven’s hierarchy. But seeing his simple little box there among all those glowing contributions he suddenly felt again like that chubby little angel with tattered wingtips and a slipping halo. But then the Master announced to the world that his gift was very special, and that it would become a light in the heavens to help guide people who have lost their way to find the truth.

Wow, at this time in my life I can see that my whole life has paralleled the story of this little angel. I always did my best in everything I tried, but I have never really "fit in" anywhere. And I have never been recognized for the status that I knew I deserved. I have accumulated a lifetime of memories, and just stowed them away in my brain archives, believing that they had no value to anyone but me. Then this year my angels started pulling some of those memories out of those dusty old archives and streaming them into my conscious mind.

At first I felt it was in response to my request for guidance on how to help my granddaughter. It soon became apparent that a book would be the way to help her understand how decisions made now will determine whether or not she will achieve her dream. So I began to allow all this information flooding my mind to flow through my fingers onto the pages, eventually resulting in HELLO MYRMIDON. Then the streaming stopped, and I assumed that I would be hiding that book in some dusty drawer as I had done 15 years ago with another book. But my angels apparently had something more in mind for me this time. They provided me with a friend who volunteered to begin the editing process, and she helped me a lot to polish the manuscript. However, all my attempts to find an illustrator were unsuccessful, so I just put my search for a publisher on the back burner and turned to other activities.

Around Thanksgiving I suddenly began to again receive streams of memories from my angels. This took me completely by surprise, and I had no idea what to do with it. After days of trying unsuccessfully to ignore this cavalcade of information, I finally gave in and decided to record each wave in a chronological journal style, starting with December 1st . I explored various subjects by mingling my memories with my innermost thoughts and feelings about them and about the subject. I had done this with my book, but it was a fictionalized account, so I could sometimes change it to be what I wished had happened rather than the raw truth. This latest writing, on the other hand, was my own private voyage of self-discovery. It was meant to candidly bare my soul, but I had no plans to share it with anyone, let alone with the whole world.

Soon the opportunity to start a website for my book became a reality, and with it a home for my new journal entries in the form of a blog. The company that is creating my site will market it with maximum effort, potentially reaching people all over the world. They have just begun to branch out into web design, and they chose me as one of their early website recipients. Little ole me, without even one book to offer yet. What are the odds of that, especially happening at this exact time?

I always marvel at how things happen at just the right time in my life. This is a great example of that. So I will continue to write what my angels give me and have faith that they will show it to the world in their own good time. I am just putting it on the table with all the other fancier offerings, relying on the Master to use it as He sees fit. That is a very scary thing to think about. I fear that those who read it will feel that it is a just a homely memory box, daring to share the table with the beautiful offerings from the great authors of today. As with the littlest angel, I will be totally in awe if my simple and unassuming gift ever does light a small candle in the darkness for people throughout the world.