A recent topic of conversation was about
angels; it reminded me of the reluctant angel I met when my vehicle overheated
on I-25 between Pueblo and Colorado Springs, the one who drove a red corvette
convertible.
I needed help and he helped me, confused as all get-out because,
as he told me, he just didn’t do stuff like help people because all people are
inherently bad, hateful, and generally mean. Nevertheless he helped me in more
ways than one and was on the receiving end of a blessing of his own.
He drove into the Springs to get the part my poor little beat-up
S10 Blazer needed, leaving me with my vehicle because otherwise it probably wouldn't be there when we got back, and I was to stay IN the vehicle (doors locked and windows up).
While he was gone, people pulled off of I-25 from both
directions to check on me. I’m not even kidding you a little bit here. I started
writing down plate numbers on the back of an envelope but stopped when I ran
out of room and lost count. More than FORTY vehicles pulled into that little
area, some of the folk choosing to stick around until my ‘angel’ got back with
the part, which took better than an hour.
The point I want to make here is not so much that there are
indeed an abundance of ‘angels among us’ (although that’s most certainly true
and I’m here to tell you so) but ...
Those angels showed up from all socio-economic
backgrounds (going by their vehicles and clothes) and from all the ethnic-cultural
backgrounds that the Front Range is home to, they were of all ages and both
genders – and not a one of them gave any of the others so much as a sideways
look, I’ll have you know.
Each and all of them had pulled off of that highway
urged by the exact same impulse, to help someone, and they all knew it. Grins
and waves from each to the other and they were back on their own paths for the
day.
Few of them would have known how MANY they were a part of on that day, but
I knew and so did a couple of the early stoppers who stayed to ‘stand guard’.
So it wasn’t just me who was blessed on that day, nor
just my reluctant angel (who was shocked enough to find a group of folks
waiting with me when he got back, let alone when we told him how MANY more had
stopped), but also all those folk who took the time out of their days and made the
effort to check on the well-being of a total stranger.
Do not ask me to explain because I flat out cannot do it.
Such a thing may never have happened before and may not have happened since and
may never happen again – but on that day it did I tell you true.
In today’s world we could have and would likely have
recorded the whole thing and it would have gone viral on line. As it is, the
memory makes me smile and having had the experience makes me believe very
strongly in just the opposite of what my reluctant angel told me about people
on that day.
Score one for the good folk!
From all walks of life, from all ages, from all
ethnicities, from all cultures, male and female they stepped up to the plate
and offered aid, support, good wishes, protection, and many a smile and/or hug
as well.
That I am still so impacted by that one short time speaks on behalf of
everyone who was there on that day.
I couldn’t tell you the name of a single
one of them except that I remember Ric was the name of the reluctant angel.
But
I will never ever in my life forget the message they brought with them, each
and all independently of everyone else.
‘I care,’ they said. ‘I am here.’
*sentimental sigh*
I totally love remembering times like that.
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