My Christmas Angel

For God commands the angels to guard you in all your ways. With their hands they will support you, lest you strike your foot against a stone
Psalm 91:11-12

It was the Monday before Christmas the day after an ice storm, a freezing cold day when winter finally hit.  The Breakfast Club had just parted ways and I was headed home with Clare who was a few months shy of her 4th birthday.  the frozen ground made driving a cautious affair and the van seemed to be dragging as we left the parking lot which I surmised was due to the ice underneath the tires.  It soon became apparent that it wasn’t the ice that was the problem.  

Turning on to Route 112 in Port Jefferson Station proved a tricky manouvre and as I continued to drive, I could tell the van wasn’t functioning properly.  Approaching the traffic light at Hallock Road, I heard the driver behind  me beeping the horn furiously.  Checking my rearview mirror, I saw her waving frantically.  I turned right onto Hallock Road but now driving the van was almost impossible and I was concerned that it might be dangerous, especially with a child in the car.

I stopped a short distance from the corner with the back of the car slightly protruding from the plowed snow and ice piled at the side of the road.  The couple in the car behind had stopped too and were now urgently explaining that the back wheels of the van weren’t turning at all.  That explained the driving problem.  I checked the tires and the axle for any obstructions but none was visible.  As I climbed into the driver’s seat the couple motioned to me not to drive since it was too dangerous.  Their serious expressions assured me it would be imprudent to continue to drive home.

As I reached for my cell phone a Suffolk County police car approached from the opposite direction.  I couldn’t believe my luck!  God was smiling on me.  As the cars swerved around the corner, braking hard and missing me by a hair, I told the police officer that I was attempting to call AAA for a tow truck.  He casually said, “well, if you need any more help just call 911”.  To my consternation, he drove off despite the erratic drivers speeding up behind me, shouting angrily or throwing obscene insults through the open window.

My initial phone calls proved fruitless.  The dispatcher at AAA told me he’d contact a local garage and I should wait for the call.  In the meantime, I tried first to contact my mechanic then my husband.  As I sat there dialing the phone, the traffic kept coming, some waiting their turn patiently, others beeping horns and one or two shouting rudely out their windows.  I wondered, “do those drivers really think I’m stopped here to make a phone call, or for fun?!”  

Early in the process, a man stopped his car and came across the road towards me.  He asked me if I was stuck.  I explained my problem and said I was trying to arrange a tow.  Two other gentlemen appeared and the 3 of them tried to move the car.  It wouldn’t budge.  They made a second attempt but the car was stuck fast refusing to move from its precarious position about 15 feet from the traffic lights at the corner.  I was resigned to my predicament and tried to ignore those drivers obviously annoyed at me being in their path; it was Christmas week and everyone had places to go and not enough time to get there.

By now, Clare, who had been very patiently sitting in her seat, watching the scene unfold began to get in on the act, turning around in her seat and signaling to the cars coming up behind us, by waving her arm in a circling motion, to drive around.  This made me smile and provided some light relief in the midst of our affliction.

When the AAA tow truck company contacted me, I was told it might be five o’clock in the afternoon before they came (it was only about noon).  Even explaining my hazardous position and the traffic situation didn’t seem to make a difference to my prospective rescuer.  Somewhat frustrated I hung up and redialed the AAA.  I was informed that my assigned number for this request was 3177 meaning that there were 3,177 calls to AAA that morning and I would have to wait my turn, even if it took 5 hours.  By now I was becoming aggravated and worried about the traffic and the dangerous situation Clare and I were in.  Another phone call to my mechanic secured me a tow truck within about 40 minutes or so

In the midst of my second round of phone calls, I noticed in the rear view mirror a large white van pulling up behind me, stopping close to the car.  Next, I became aware of a young man standing by my window.  A warm smile greeted me and a gentle, friendly voice asked, “having some trouble?”  “Yes, I said, the car’s stuck”.  “Have you tried to move it”, he asked.  I explained about the 3 gentlemen’s efforts to push the car to no avail.  When he asked if I was OK, I said I would be fine and that a tow truck was on the way as was my husband. I could soon take Clare out of the traffic and leave him with the car to wait for the tow truck.

As casually as if he was asking me directions to the nearest diner, he said “well, I have nothing better to do this morning and I can see you have the baby in the car so I’m just going to sit behind you until someone arrives because my car’s bigger than yours and I’d much rather they hit me than hit you since they’ll do more damage to you than me.  I’ll just sit in my van and wait”.  

His words completely bowled me over – “I’d much rather they hit me than hit you”?!.  Amidst all this aggravation and lack of compassion, here was a complete stranger willing to put himself in danger for me and my daughter without a moment’s thought for himself, or the slightest concern for the damage which I was sure would be sustained to his truck!  I blurted out “oh, you don’t need to do that!”  But he said, again very casually and matter-of-factly, “It’s OK, I’ll just stay behind you just in case”.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.  My shield was a complete stranger who could see the imminent danger in the scene which met him as he turned the corner and his reaction was to put himself between me, my little daughter and our car and any possible danger.

To say that this man was My Angel is a gross understatement.  I have never forgotten him or his total disregard for his own safety.  What sticks with me is the fact that this act of love and kindness restored my faith in man and made me think “There is a God”.

After a time, my husband arrived on the scene, we switched cars and I put Clare into the other vehicle, my Angel waiting patiently for us to make the exchange.  I walked back to thank him for stopping and to try to give him some idea of how grateful I was.  I was ashamed to only find a $20 bill in my wallet (I wanted to at least buy him lunch).  With a raised hand he refused to be compensated and his final words to me completely choked me up and overwhelmed me.   “Maybe one day I will have a family of my own and they will be in trouble and need some help.  Perhaps someone will do the same for them”.  I was too overcome to even ask his name.  All I could force out was “Merry Christmas.  God Bless You”.  We waved to each other as I got into my husband’s car.  He will be forever in my prayers. 

May God Bless You Always, My Christmas Angel.

When have you noticed an angel appear in your life?

Are not all angels ministering spirits sent to serve those who will inherit salvation?
Hebrews 1:24

Peace & blessings,


Linda

It’s All Relevant

Then you shall call and the Lord will answer, you shall cry for help, and He will say; Here I am!
Isaiah 59:9


Do you believe there are “no accidents” in life?  Is everything connected?

Our daughter, Clare, had several health issues as a small child.  None were continuous or always the same which is why, as they continued, they didn’t seem connected.  When she was ill the typical diagnosis was that she had a virus.  She was always pale, which we put down to our Scottish and English roots so didn’t give that fact much attention.  At varying times, she had stomach issues, vomiting, unable to keep food or drink down, fevers with or without sickness and lethargy.  She had regular check-ups where the doctor gave her a clean bill of health and said she was growing well.  Or was she? 

Clare has two older brothers.  Their growth charts were always in the 95th and 75th percentiles.  Clare was holding at the 25th percentile throughout those early years.  This fact niggled at me; this just isn’t our family trait.  What was going on?

In kindergarten, her teacher told me pointedly that “Clare is the slowest student in my class” and she often had to wait for her to finish before moving on to another task.  This really irritated her.  Clare would come off the school bus every day and take a nap on the couch before she could do anything else.  At times she would come to us at 7 o’clock in the evening and declare, “Mum, Dad, I’m tired, I’m going to bed.”  We were so proud and pleased with our wee girl who gave us none of the bedtime battles during her first 7 years of life.

I vividly recall one harrowing day when she was about 15 months old; she hadn’t kept food down for about 48 hours, she was very pale with black circles under her eyes.  I spent the day sitting beside her on the couch spoon-feeding teaspoons of ginger ale into her every 7 minutes.  If I tried after 5 minutes, she would throw up again and lose any ground she’d gained after which she needed to rest for a while before trying again.  I was at my wits end, did a lot of crying and cuddling, yelling at God to show us what was going on with this little tiny girl who seemed to be fading away.  I knew it was bad when a friend stopped by and we went outside to say hello – I was carrying her – he took one look at her and said, “what’s happened to Clare?!”  This, of course, hit me even more so I knew we needed to see the doctor again.  “Probably a stomach virus”, he said.

As a toddler she would eat dry rice krispies for breakfast or for a snack and she loved rice cakes.  One friend once declared, “what, you’ve got the kid on a diet already?”!  Ice cream was another favorite.  She wasn’t so keen on all the usual kid favourites like chicken nuggets, pizza, etc.  She would eat a hotdog but without the bun though she did love macaroni and cheese.

At her 6th year check-up, I said, “she’s still in the 25th percentile which doesn’t seem right to me, are you sure there’s nothing going on with her health?  The answer concerning the fact that she’s female and not wanting her to be “too big” seemed more and more bizarre the more I thought about it.

One day, when she was 7, I was thinking about the things she ate.  By then she had whittled down her diet to a few basic things: “rice soup”, which was broth with a handful of white rice in it, rice and green beans, sauteed chicken and ethnic foods.  She also loved vegetables.  Thai was her favourite and she loved Indian and Mexican food too.  Then, suddenly, a memory popped into my mind.  I felt compelled to investigate.

Back about 1992, a friend who lived in Germany had come to visit with her toddler.  A few months later, she wrote to me quite distraught because he had just been diagnosed with Celiac disease which she wrote a little bit about and, later, on the phone, she discussed how difficult his life would be as a teenager; going out with the guys would be hard if he couldn’t have beer and pizza with them.

As I recalled her letter, our conversations afterwards and Clare’s eating habits, I headed for the computer and googled the word “celiac”.  Lo and behold, on Celiac.com it was all there in black and white.  The foods she loved were on the “safe foods” list and the ones she had stopped eating (like bread and pizza) were on the “unsafe foods” list.  Did Clare have celiac disease?  Is this the gremlin which has been troubling her throughout her childhood? 

Her diagnosis was later confirmed by the gastroenterologist via an endoscopy.  “Classic” celiac pictures were what the GI doctor showed us that day.

It isn’t always a straightforward road when your child is diagnosed with celiac disease but I’ve said since then that if there was ever a “good time” to be diagnosed with it, it was then.  More information was emerging about the disease and some food manufacturers were producing safe gluten free foods (not all manufacturers have safe production practices) giving us a greater variety of choices so the diet wasn’t bland and boring.

Nowadays, it’s even better with more foods, more choices and better nutritional information.  Clare has become a capable young woman who knows exactly how to handle her dietary restrictions.  That doesn’t mean she is no longer sick (her immune system is compromised) but she handles the rough days with grace and practices good self-care when necessary.

What’s the moral of this story?  God. Uses. Everything.  Sometimes our lives only make sense when we
take the long view. 

Understand then, that the Lord, your God, is God indeed, the faithful God who keeps his merciful covenant down to the thousandth generation toward those who love Him and keep His commandments.                                                     Deuteronomy 7:9

Is there a compatible event or events in your life?  How has someone else’s experience helped you to solve a puzzle or resolve an issue?

How precious to me are your designs, O God; how vast the sum of them!                                                                             Psalm 139:17

Peace & Blessings,



Linda