Lately I've been reminiscing about family vacations, mainly because they're getting harder to schedule with adult children. Grace-filled nostalgia is a wonderful thing and I can find it in all of our trips. (The fact that we all came home without disowning one another is grace in itself.) One of our vacations, however, stands out as the one I encountered what I believe was a true angel. I don't mean just a really nice, good person, a "dear" or even a cherubic looking Victorian thing. I mean someone sent from heaven by God in human form for a specific moment with a message and/or help in a critical moment.
The year was 1993. My Granny Tola was turning 80 on September 3rd, and wanted nothing more and nothing less than to sit in the studio of one of Pat Robertson's "700 Club" tapings. She was coming from Kansas by plane and we from Maryland by car and she was paying for our two nights' stay in the luxurious Founder's Inn on the 700 Club Campus. The kids were 5, 4, and 2.
We stopped at McDonald's for breakfast. That was our first mistake. I'm sure God stations angels at their grills just to keep folks from instant cardiacs, but I digress. Paul came out feeling a bit sick and wanted me to drive while he rested in the back seat, wedged between two car seats. I think we let Ben ride up front. Twenty minutes later he wanted me to find a place to pull over. I figured it was just the usual 20-minutes-post-MickeyD's pit stop.
Within ten minutes he was almost too weak to force the issue. "Zo, please, I need help." Normally I would've laughed, "We all need help after Egg McMuffins," but his voice was not kidding. I turned around and he could barely keep his head up. He was clutching his chest. That's when I panicked. "What's wrong, honey? Paul?? !!" He didn't know. All I could think of was that his mom and brother had died suddenly of ruptured aortas and Hopkins had tested the whole family after the second death. Paul's aorta was (is) enlarged. "Dear God, no, " I prayed silently "don't take Paul." I scanned every road sign for a big H. We needed a hospital and had no clue where we were, really.
"I'm looking, babe. I don't see any hospital signs. What's the matter? Does your chest hurt? Are you gonna throw up? Pass out? What?"
He couldn't muster the energy to say.
That's when I believe God directed me to take an exit that I thought, "No way." It was either Shadyside or Shadybrook and looked like it would lead to farmland or a rinky-dink town. But I trusted God. I pulled into the first place where I saw people: a tiny church. They were milling around the parking lot. The time was almost 10 a.m. on a weekday. They were all dressed up. Maybe for a funeral, but not for a Bible study.
I jumped out of the car and asked a woman "where's the nearest hospital?" She wasn't sure there was one near. A second person knew there was one under construction, but whether it was open for business? Not sure. My palms were sweating, and I could hear my own pulse.
I raced to the basement of the church where they said the secretary was. She knew the hospital was open but gave lousy directions. You know, every landmark possible on a straight shot road?
Nearly in tears, I thanked her and felt I'd have to do the best I could but I was confused with lefts, rights, barns, fences, all that hooha.
Then I rushed back to the car . Beside us was a man in a tweed coat. He stood next to a late model dark car. I don't remember even asking him for directions. But he said, "Miss, you'll turn right out of this parking lot, go one mile, and the new hospital is on the right."
"Thank you!" I blurted. I jumped into the car, put it in reverse, turned to wave to him, but he was gone.
"Where did he go?" I asked Paul. "He just told me how to get there and was reaching back into his car for glasses. But where is he? And where's that dark car?" Paul was too out of it to track with me.
I pulled out, turned right, went a mile exactly, and there was a hospital! It was so new there was hardly a soul there, so we got right in to see a doctor. They ran a battery of tests. Nothing wrong.
During the wait, Paul was gaining strength, his color was returning, and he was handling the insurance questions despite the fact I said, "It's okay, I got it. Just relax." I felt such a peace. Even the children had been perfectly behaved and weren't asking a million questions about daddy or "when are we gonna get there?"
I remember checking into a motel (we couldn't afford a hotel and couldn't make it to Virginia Beach on time after our delay) and Sarah playing nurse. We had an ACE bandage with us (we carry them like gum or mints on vacation). She knew her Daddy was sick somehow, so she wrapped his leg from thigh to calf and "pwayed for" him. It was so sweet.
Never have I felt so encountered by an angel. Never have I doubted it was an angel in that country church parking lot.
And to top it off, not only did Granny get to sit in the studio, Pat Robertson announced it was her birthday, brought her up on stage, and gave her a big Southern bear hug! She died two years later almost to the day, a happy woman.
How about you? Got any "definitely was an angel" story of your own? If it's post-able, please post!
5 comments:
Last summer we were at the beach. It was the first day we had arrived and we were staying in a mobile home that belonged to a co-worker of Donny. The kids were anxious to see the ocean so we drove up to the beach and let them play in the sand for a while. I realized that Zac had wet through his outfit, so I was going to take him back to the room, change him, and come back for the others. (it was probably about 8 pm.) When I got back, I realized I didn't have the key to the room. I searched the van for about 20 min. and finally drove back up to the beach. Donny brought the other 2 back to the car and I retraced my steps to see if the key had fallen out on the sand. (By now it was getting dark.) I started panicking. I didn't know how we would get in the room b/c the people who rented it to us were several hrs away. Donny decided to walk up on the beach (in the dark) to look. I was convinced that he couldn't find the key. 5 minutes later, he came running back with it! A little key. In the dark. On a sandy beach. Only God could do that! (so, maybe not an angel, but definitely God.)
That's amazing. Yeh, who but God?
I said that.
In the winter of 1996 I was driving home from work late at night. I worked about 40 minutes away from home. 40 minutes on a bright sunny day. I left work and the snow was coming down pretty hard. I have always loved driving in the snow so I wasn't too worried. As I drove through the small town I worked in it wasn't too bad because the town was all lit up. A few blocks away however I started my mile long climb up a very steep hill. There were no street lights, no possible way to turn around, no way back. You couldn't see the side of the road. The snow was coming down harder and harder and I really couldn’t see in front of me.
Snow started to collect in my wheel base and I was losing control of the steering in my car. My windshield wipers couldn't handle the amount of heavy snow that was coming down and the snow was just collecting and sticking to the wipers. I was driving probably only 5 miles per hour. I drove looking sideways at the guardrail, barely visible. There were no other cars on the road. It was pitch dark and snow was collecting in front of my headlights I was practically driving blind.
I called my friend and asked her to pray. I told her I wasn't sure I would make it home. I told her I felt like I was going to die that night. The weather was so severe. I couldn't find a place to pull over because I couldn't even see the side of the road. I drove down the middle of the road at a crawling pace. I drove with my window down snapping the windshield wiper every time it came to the side to try and get the snow off. Finally I found a place to pull over and was able to dig all the snow out that had collected around my tires. By the time I had pulled over I had hardly any control over my steering. I was crying, praying, and didn't know what to do. Do I stay where I had pulled over and hope that I have enough gas to make it through the night and not freeze to death? It was so dark. I really didn't think I was going to make it home.
Just then I saw some lights coming. There had been no one on the road for over an hour and now, finally someone else was coming. I jumped in my car and waited for the pick-up truck to pass and then followed him. I could see his tail lights and was able to follow him without any difficulty. There were a few hills on the way home that I had a difficult time getting up. The truck would stop and wait at the top of the hill for me to catch up and then keep leading the way. He went the same way I did the entire way home and then once I got to my town where there were a lot of lights again and I could see, he just vanished. Just as soon as he appeared, he was gone.
It took me about 2 1/2 hours to get home that night. I felt safe though while following the truck. I knew he would make sure I was okay. I have always felt that he was an angel. Of course I don't know for sure, but I have always believed there was an angel in the truck that night leading me home.
Vicki-nice to hear from you again. I'd say your story definitely contained an angel! I could feel all your tension and then all your relief. Amaazing.
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