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Aug 01, 2007
Life is a compromise of what your ego wants to do, what experience tells you to do, and what your nerves let you do.
Bruce Crampton
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Friends in High Places
A favorite holiday is marred by heartbreak and snowstorms, but it is also saved by uncanny surprises.
By Patricia Gaddis
My godmother always told me that we have wonderful friends in high places. Of course she was referring to God and His angels, but it wasn't until Valentine's Day back in 1978 that I realized what she meant.
I was a single parent going through a divorce and struggling to make ends meet. Adding insult to injury, on February 14th I received a cancellation notice for my car insurance because a payment had not been properly posted to my account. Frantically, I called my insurance agent only to be told that I would have to visit the office with my cancelled check to clear up the matter. On any other day that would have been fine, but my car had been stalling and it was a very cold afternoon with snow in the forecast.
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Knowing that I needed insurance in order to keep driving, reluctantly I began the journey to the insurance office, which was more than an hour away from my home. Parking places were scarce, so I walked five blocks in blowing snow and subzero temperatures—only to discover that the insurance company had moved! Luckily, there was a phone booth on the corner street so I called my agent who apologetically gave me directions to a new location. After driving for at least 20 minutes in an unfamiliar part of town, I finally found the office. With a glad heart I was able to sign the necessary papers that would prevent my car insurance from being cancelled.
Leaving, the sky was almost dark and it continued snowing heavily. A sharp wind whipped off my wool scarf—a gift from my godmother—and lifted it high into the snow-filled sky. Despairingly, I looked up and watched it disappear across the top of a building, swallowed by howling wind and snow. Knowing there was nothing I could do, I continued walking to my car. When I arrived at the deserted parking lot, I heard shouting and the sound of guns being fired. Suddenly realizing that I was in a crime-ridden section of town, I quickly brushed the snow off my car and started the engine. After driving only a few blocks, my engine stalled. I tried several times to get the car started but to no avail. The shouting was getting closer and I was frightened.
"God," I cried aloud, "I've had enough of this and you're going to have to help me! PLEASE just help me," I cried, hitting my head against the steering wheel.
My favorite holiday had become marred by the problems that had flung themselves in my direction. The divorce, the cancellation notice, and now the stalled engine in the middle of a snowstorm. I was exhausted, hungry, and desperate to get home. I raised my head from the steering wheel and there, in front of my car, stood a nicely dressed man in a long, navy blue wool coat. He was carrying a briefcase and appeared to be coming home from work. I did not feel threatened in any way. Walking up to my car window he said, "There's a service station just down the street. If you'll put it in neutral I'll push you there."
Feeling peace come over me, I did as he said and he pushed my car to the brightly lit service station. As we rolled in, I turned to thank him—but he was gone!
"Where did the man go?" I asked the service station attendant who came up to my window.
"What man?" he asked.
"The man who pushed me here to your station," I said.
"I didn't see anybody," he said. "You just rolled right in here without the engine running."
"But he was wearing a long navy blue coat and carrying a briefcase," I insisted.
"Nope," he said. "I didn't see anybody. Is this yours?" he asked, holding up my blue wool scarf that had been whipped away by the wind.
"Yes, why yes it is! Where did you get that?!" I exclaimed. The memory of my scarf rising into the howling wind was still clear in my mind.
"It was draped across the back of your car," he said. "Once, my wife drove all the way into town with her purse on top of the car. Amazing how those things can happen, isn't it?" He laughed.
I nodded, suddenly feeling weak from my experience. I knew that my scarf had not been draped across the back of my car when I brushed the snow off. Without a doubt, I realized that after praying to God, He answered by immediately sending an angel to help me and return my runaway scarf.
Soon, the mechanic fixed my car—for less than $20—and I was finally on my way home. My godmother was right. We really do have friends in high places.
