Introduction:
There were no stage lights, no thunderous applause—just a handful of close friends, the soft hum of cicadas, and a golden horizon stretching across northern Alabama. Yet in that quiet simplicity, something timeless unfolded. As Randy’s voice drifted into the still evening air, it felt as though the years themselves folded gently backward — decades of touring, endless highways, and the countless faces who once sang those same words back to him.
“I believe there are angels among us…”
First released in 1993 by Alabama, those words have long transcended music. They became a lifeline — a song that found its way into funerals and weddings, candlelight vigils and hospital rooms. For so many, it was more than a melody; it was comfort in the darkness, a whisper of faith that kindness still walks among us, carried by ordinary souls doing extraordinary things.
For Randy Owen, the song has always held a deeper resonance. Written during a time of quiet reflection and steadfast belief, it became a light in the dark — what he once described as “a song born from hope.” And now, decades later, standing beneath the same southern sky that raised him, those words carried an even greater weight.
Witnesses said the performance felt like both a prayer and a farewell. Jeff Cook’s absence was palpable — not spoken of, yet present in every pause, every trembling note, every breath between verses. Randy didn’t need to speak of loss; it was there, woven into the silence between chords and the softness of his final line.
When the last note faded, no one moved. The moment hung suspended, as if the hills themselves were holding their breath. Some wiped away tears; others whispered quietly, unwilling to disturb the sacred stillness. It wasn’t sorrow that filled the air, but reverence — the kind born when music reaches beyond sound and becomes something spiritual.
Because “Angels Among Us” isn’t just a song from Alabama’s past. It’s a living hymn — one that grows more meaningful with each passing year. It speaks of unseen grace, of strength discovered in strangers, of the invisible hands that steady us through life’s hardest turns.
And as the night settled over Fort Payne, Randy Owen’s voice faded into the wind, leaving behind a silence that felt holy. The song itself didn’t end there — it lingered in the hearts of those who heard it, in the generations it has comforted, in the countless lives it continues to touch.
Because some songs aren’t bound by time.
They belong to eternity.
And this one — this song — will never fade.