My Guardian Angel Encounter

For my entire life, I always had the feeling that I was surrounded by guardian angels. At a young age, I was in tune with my surroundings and of secret messages given to me while I slept. Call it intuition or that 'inner voice' that gives you the answers every time you ask. Many times, I'd go to sleep wondering where I left something, ask my angels, "where did I put that?" and the next day, I'd suddenly remember. Maybe it was just my subconscious brain telling me or maybe I was actively communicating with my angels. Whatever it was, I knew that there was something more out there, something not explained by religion or scientific reason and I remember vividly talking out loud to some unseen spirit or spirits that I knew hovered over me.

I was lucky though in that I was protected, not only by my guardian angels, but by my family. I grew up in an Italian American family where the children were the priority. My mother, Marie, did the usual domestic chores that were considered 'women's work' in those days. She never thought it was a burden though and just did what she had to do to keep her family running smoothly. She sewed (all of my childhood clothes were made by her). She did laundry with one of those old time ringer washers (that she continued to use well into her 80's) in the dank cellar of our three story, wood framed home. She was an amazing cook and reveled in the praises that everyone gave her after finishing one of her delicious meals. Every night, there was a feast put on the table and I remember coming home from cheerleading practice and devouring every last morsel. From her, I learned to cook, just by lulling around, watching and waiting until the dinner was served. I never ever cooked (or did anything else) until I left home at 19 when I moved to Florida from my small town in Western Pennsylvania, known for it's steel mills, birthplace of the JEEP, and the Pullman Railroad Car company.

I like to think that Italians have a certain distinguishing palette that allows us to know what food is supposed to taste like and I definitely honed my taste buds on my mother's cooking. To this day, I carry on the tradition of cooking every night for my son, Luca (my youngest is still at home living with me while the oldest, Adriano, is away at college) and hosting every holiday at my house. I don't even invite anyone anymore. It's just a known fact that Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve dinner will be served at my house. Everyone is welcome. Again, that's an Italian thing. The more the merrier. Just don't forget the wine!

My father, Gene, as he was known, was the breadwinner, and for years worked two jobs to give us everything he lacked growing up in a poor immigrant family. His father, Pietro, was killed in a coal mine when my father was five and that had left my grandmother, Lucia, alone to try to take care of seven little children. Both my grandfather and grandmother (from both sides of my family) had emigrated to America in the early 1900's with mostly just the clothes on their backs. They somehow managed even though they barely spoke English and had to basically survive on their own as there were no safety nets in those days, like welfare, food stamps, or HUD. They were brave pioneers who risked it all to come to a country which has given me and my family a dream life in comparison.

My father was also the backbone of the family. He was the rock, a solid, formidable man, whose determination and fortitude runs deeply in my blood. On the surface, he was as tough as nails, but deep down, he was a sensitive family man whose entire life was dedicated to his family. Many times, I had seen my father cry, like when my older brother left home at 18, or when his own mother had died. He had endured a terrible childhood, growing up in abject poverty, with the stigma of being an Italian immigrant's child. In those days, Italians were looked down upon and when the war broke out in WWII, my father joined up at the age of 17. He just wanted to escape and serve his country, a country he loved fiercely until the day he died at 89.

I attribute most of my courage and independence from him and he always told me that I could do anything. Because of his encouragement and advice, it made me into a brave and fearless woman and gave me the guts to do many of the things I've done in my life and for that, I thank him. I've never felt as a woman that I couldn't do certain things. If there was a will, there was a way. That was a theme that ran through my family's lives and giving up was just not an option.

As I grew into a teenager, I became acutely aware of the world outside of my home town. My parents had taken us to Florida as kids to visit my Aunt Joan and her family who lived in Orlando. From the moment we hit Florida with its bright blue, sunny skies, palm trees and wide, sandy beaches, I was hooked. I knew I could never stay in Pennsylvania. I also had the opportunity to visit my favorite cousin and mentor, Sandi, who lived in New York City. She was much older than me, as her father was the oldest child in the family, and mine, the baby. Sandi was an interior designer and from the moment I saw her, I was mesmerized! I remember her visiting our grandmother's house on the outskirts of Pittsburgh. I was only three at the time, but when we met, we had an instant connection. That connection has endured for the past 57 years. Sandi was a real beauty and had herself an exciting life living in Manhattan. I remember her long red fingernails, bouffant hair, wrapped up with a scarf, large dark sunglasses, bangles on her arms and rings on all her fingers. It was the 60's so Sandi was right on trend with the styles at the time. When I was around eleven or twelve, my parents sent me on a train to visit Sandi in N.Y. Even at that time, I had no fear to travel alone. From that moment on, I knew what I wanted to do with my life and wanted to be exactly like Sandi. In many ways, it turned out that my life did resemble Sandi's and she's been my mentor ever since.

When I was 19, I packed up the car my father had given me and I moved to Florida. My original plan to was to move to NYC but I had enrolled in a college for interior design which was located in Miami. It was always my intention to move to NY, but my plans got sidetracked along the way, and I ended up staying in Florida.

After college while in my twenties, I worked and saved money. This allowed me to travel, something I had always wanted to do. I had made a few trips overseas, a tour of Europe with a group and a trip by myself to Greece. After the trip to Greece, I decided that I wanted to have an experience and move to Italy for six months to learn Italian. After years of plotting and planning, I had saved enough money, learned some Italian while sitting on the beach in Florida, and decided to quit my job (which I thought would be temporarily), put all my stuff in storage, rent out the condo that I had bought and go to Rome for six months to not only learn Italian but have an experience before I got too old to do it. While in Greece, I had seen many young people from all parts of the globe, traveling around with just their backpacks and not a care in the world. I wanted to do that. A voice in my head was telling me that this was something that I had to absolutely do! I like to think that my guardians angels had a hand in this persuasion!

The voice grew louder and louder and finally I made my move and set a date to move to Italy. I packed all my stuff into boxes and put it into a storage locker and gave the key to my best friend at the time, Mark. Mark had a bit of a crush on me and he was a stalwart friend who I could count on if I needed anything. He literally would have done anything for me.

So I went to Europe, initially living in Germany for year. This was an unplanned excursion that ended up influencing my life in so many ways, including meeting the love of my life and my soul mate, Juergen, who later became my husband of 23 years. That is a tale for another time!

During my time in Germany, I ended up working in a textile mill, doing color consulting and design work for the American market. I had met a German man in Miami at a trade show just before leaving for Europe who just happened to own a textile mill and had invited me to work there for a few weeks, which ended up being a year long assignment. I had been working in the fabric business in Florida and was so happy to have such a great opportunity. Again, I think this was one of those times that my guardian angels had a hand in helping me! Things just fell into place. Years later, I attributed it to me being able to 'attract' from the Universe. I didn't know what I was doing exactly, but I seemed to have a knack for getting what I wanted, when I wanted or needed it.

On a long break over a holiday, which in Germany ends up to be many, many weeks at a time, I begged my friend Mark, to come and visit me. But I didn't want him to come to Germany. I had planned for us to meet in Venice, Italy. I would take the train down from Germany and Mark could fly directly in from Florida.

So we made our plans. Everything was going smoothly. Mark arrived. I met him at the quaint little hotel he had booked in a small piazza not far from the main drag.We were very excited to see each other. That was Mark's first time in Europe and since I had been to Venice before, I felt comfortable showing him around. Little did I know, that this attitude was going to get me into trouble. We hugged and quickly threw our bags inside the room. At the time, I barely had any money and spent my last paycheck on the train trip to Venice. I would have to rely on Mark's generous nature to pay for everything else while we were there.

So we ventured out to see the sites. The first place we went was St Mark's Square. There were throngs of tourists everywhere! I had never seen it so crowded. As we walked, we bumped into person after person, with nobody paying much attention to anything. I have to admit, and looking back on it now, I was guilty of doing the same thing. We walked aimlessly among the tourists, taking in as much scenery as we could. Venice is absolutely amazing, like a living jewel box embellished with exquisite adornments everywhere you looked, a fairy tale place with a rich and sordid history. Mark was overwhelmed. He had never seen anything like it, was distracted by it all, and just happened to walk away from me for a split second, while the crowds of people parted us from each other. In that moment, we became separated.

I looked around everywhere! It was hard for me to believe that I was just not able to find Mark again. He was just be my side a second ago and now he was gone. My eyes darted around amongst the crowd. Nothing. Mark was nowhere to be found. So I then resorted to plan B. If I couldn't find him here, I would just go back to the hotel and re-unite with him there.

I started to make my way back to what I thought was the direction of the hotel. We hadn't gone that far so it would be easy to find, or so I thought. In my haste in seeing Mark at the hotel initially, I never bothered to take a business card with the hotel's name and address. I didn't even know the name of the place! When I travel, this was something I always did! This time, I made a terrible mistake and flouted my own rules thinking I would be fine with Mark by my side.

I walked back in the direction to where we had come from and nothing looked familiar. If a person wasn't paying attention, I guess everything could look the same. For me though, I never got lost. I'd always had a keen sense of direction. In those days, there were no cell phones and no GPS to guide you. You had to do it the old fashioned way, by using a map, something that I was proficient in doing. I had an old car back in Germany during this time too and made several trips over the Alps to travel throughout Italy, Austria and Germany and never got lost once. All the while not knowing how to speak Italian or German!

So here I was, scratching my head, trying to remember the way to the hotel. I walked around and around, looking for anything that seemed familiar. There were still lots of people milling around, shops were open, and it was the late afternoon so it was still light out. I felt confident that I'd find the place in a short amount of time and wasn't worried at that point.

I continued my search, and by now a few hours had passed. I couldn't believe that this was happening. This was becoming a joke and I was getting angry at myself for slipping up and not taking that business card to the hotel. Everything was really starting to look the same, I was getting more and more confused while getting more and more lost. By then, my composure was starting to wane and I was beginning to become a little bit worried. What started out as a mid day adventure suddenly became an hours long nightmare.

As you wander thru the back streets of Venice, it starts to become a maze. And as the day wears on, shops begin to close. The sun sets and the streetlights come on. People start closing up the shutters to their homes and they begin to disappear from the narrow streets. I walked deeper into the residential neighborhoods, getting more and more frazzled and increasingly upset. It was really dark now and it started getting a bit scary. I had been searching for the hotel for about 5 hours by now and was nearly at my whit's end. There was not one person on the street at this point and I was out of options. I had no money, no map, couldn't speak Italian (even if there was someone I could to talk to), and now was realizing that I had no idea where my hotel was. I had walked so far away, or so I thought, from the original location that I was all turned around and completely lost.

It was then that I sat down on a stoop, put my head in my hands and almost began to cry. And I am not a cryer! It takes a lot to make me this upset and I did not know what I was going to do at this point. Should I keep walking? My legs were aching, I had no water, it was getting a bit chilly and I wasn't dressed for it. I contemplated for a split second actually finding a spot somewhere to sleep for the night, when all of a sudden, out of the blue, a young woman appeared about ten steps away. She had long, golden, wavy hair and some books in her hand. She asked me in English, with an accent, if I was lost and if I needed some help. I was SO happy to see another person! And one who was offering to help me! I couldn't get over the fact that she was speaking to me in English. I look totally Italian and could have been mistaken for a local if I didn't open my mouth up first.

I jumped up from the stoop and told her my story, that I'd been walking for hours and lost my friend and the hotel where we were staying. I described it as best I could, as being in a small piazza not far from St. Mark's Square. Of course, practically every hotel in Venice fit this description so it wasn't very much help! She told me to follow her and she would find me my hotel. So I followed her. We walked for a short distance, making some turns here and there, past some scaffolding that I had walked by at least a dozen or so times. Between two buildings, behind the scaffolding, there was a very narrow walkway that I had missed because it was so hidden. I had been so close the entire time but kept missing the clues. My frustration and anxiety got the best of me and I was not listening to my intuition in how to find the way! My intuition or inner voice (or guardian angels as I've always referred to it) always gave me the information I needed to get me out of jams. This time, I just couldn't hear it because I had gotten myself worked up into such a tizzy!

So the blonde haired 'angel' lead the way thru the walkway which opened up into a small piazza. Like a beacon, an epiphany, a glowing castle, there was my hotel! And in front, sitting at a table with a beer in his hand, was my friend, Mark! He looked like he didn't have a care in the world! Here I was, lost, confused, angry, terrified and finally excited and relieved and he had no clue I had been in trouble! He saw me immediately and shouted my name "Rachelle, where the hell have you been. I've been sitting here for hours getting drunk on red wine!" I was about ready to hit him over the head for not realizing that something was wrong and that he should have at least tried to look for me! But Mark knowing me, figured that I was OK and having been on my own in Europe for almost two years, that I could fend for myself.

To this day, I don't remember exactly what happened after that. I can't even remember if I thanked the young woman who helped me. All I know is that I was finally safe, happy and relieved. Thinking back on it now, I have come to the conclusion that this girl was one of my guardian angels sent down to help me in my hour of need. I wasn't hearing the voices they normally spoke to me in my subconscious and had to finally send down a real flesh and blood angel to lead me to safety. I'm convinced that I had an encounter with an angel that night in Venice. She was the epitome of what one would think an angel would look like, at least how I would imagine one to be. There was just something about her, with her cool demeanor and kindness.

Since then, I have had many occasions where I know I've been looked over and helped by some unseen force, the guides and guardians that I know exist and surround me day and night. I speak to them and ask them to now watch over my two sons, as those days of adventure are almost all over for me and theirs are just beginning. It's comforting to know that I am not alone and am grateful for being able to tell this story.