My mother told me one day I walked in to her and said, 'Mom, I'm

The words of Prince, “My mother told me one day I walked in to her and said, ‘Mom, I’m not going to be sick anymore,’ and she said ‘Why?’ and I said ‘Because an angel told me so.’ Now, I don’t remember saying it; that’s just what she told me,” shine like a mystical fragment of prophecy. They carry within them a child’s innocence intertwined with divine mystery — a whisper of faith unclouded by doubt. Beneath these words lies a profound truth: that sometimes the soul knows healing before the mind understands it, and that the voice of hope — or of heaven — can speak even through a child’s lips.

In the ancient world, such a moment would have been seen as sacred. The Greeks would have said that a daimon — a guiding spirit — had spoken through him. The prophets of old would have called it revelation. But whatever name one gives it, the essence remains: faith is a power beyond reason, and the spirit, when touched by it, can transform what the body believes to be impossible. Prince’s story, though wrapped in simplicity, is a tale of awakening — of the unseen hand that lifts the heart when it is too weak to lift itself.

His mother’s memory of that day captures something that logic alone cannot explain. A young boy, frail and unwell, walks in and declares his own healing, not as a plea but as a certainty. “Because an angel told me so.” It is a sentence born not of intellect, but of divine assurance — the quiet conviction that light has spoken, and the darkness has lost its hold. Whether or not the angel was seen, the belief was real, and in belief there is great power. Faith itself is the language of the unseen, and sometimes a child’s heart speaks it more fluently than the wisest philosopher.

History is filled with stories that mirror this miracle of belief. Think of Joan of Arc, a young girl who heard voices calling her to lead armies and free her people. The world doubted her, mocked her, and condemned her — yet she stood fearless, guided by the voices she believed were divine. Like Prince’s childhood declaration, Joan’s conviction was not about proof, but about purpose. When the soul is touched by something higher — call it an angel, a vision, or an inner knowing — it moves with strength that defies understanding.

But Prince’s words hold not only wonder, but tenderness. They remind us of the sacred bond between mother and child — the trust that allows truth to pass freely between them. His mother believed him, not because she understood, but because she saw in his eyes the radiance of conviction. This is the heart of love: to listen when reason would dismiss, to hope when logic would despair. In her remembrance, she preserved that sacred moment of faith — and in her retelling, she passed it to the world, like a torch of belief that never dies.

In these words, there also lies a deeper metaphor: the angel that spoke to the child is the symbol of inner healing — the divine voice within every human soul that whispers, “You will rise.” Each of us carries within a spark of the eternal, a quiet messenger of resilience and renewal. When despair grips the heart, this inner angel speaks softly: You are not done. You will not fall forever. Stand, for the light has not left you. To hear it is to awaken the will to live — and the will to live is the greatest medicine of all.

Thus, from Prince’s story, the lesson is clear and everlasting: believe in the unseen power that calls you to wholeness. Whether you call it faith, intuition, or the voice of the divine, it is real — for it speaks the language of the spirit, not the senses. When darkness comes, listen closely. Perhaps your angel will not appear in form or light, but in the quiet courage that rises in your heart when you say, “I will be well.” And when that moment comes, do not doubt it — for as Prince himself showed, the declaration of faith is often the first act of healing.

So, children of the ages, remember this: healing begins in belief. When pain comes, when sickness or sorrow shadows your path, turn inward and listen for the whisper that reminds you who you are — a soul capable of light, a being born not only to suffer, but to transcend. Let your own angel speak through your heart, and when it does, trust it. For faith, once spoken with purity, has the power to awaken miracles — even those we no longer remember making.