Recent events in my family have sent me to pondering life and our daily struggles through it. Many believe and many don't in the afterlife, God, angels, etc. I suppose unless something happens to you, you can never really know.
Very few people know of this story, less than a handful, I'd say ...
Many years ago when I was younger, about the age of twenty-two or three (give or take), I had spent the evening and well into the night at a wedding. It was in the summer months as I recall the evening was warm and I wasn't wearing a jacket. It was late, very late, about 2 a.m. when I was driving home on the freeway.
At that point in time, I lived in an older area of the city. In itself, it was relatively safe place to be, however getting to that point, one had to venture through some areas that weren't so friendly. As it happened, I ran out of gas on the freeway about a mile from the next exit. I guided my car to the shoulder and sat there for a minute. I was tired. I know the area and knew there was a gas station at the end of the exit. That meant walking to get there, buying their gas can and walking back to my car. Remember, this was well before the age of the cell phone. No 'phone-a-friend' or AAA was coming to my rescue.
Just as I got out of my car, another vehicle pulled up behind me. It was an old station wagon, light blue in color and several years old. Out steps this big fella, rather tall, at least compared to me and solidly built. He had a big blonde mop of tussled hair and he was sporting a white tee shirt and cut-off jeans. And he was bare-footed. He steps up and offers to take me down the road to the exit. I thanked him and we were off.
In the end, I got home safely. (I haven't run out of gas since). So what's so angelic about that, you ask? Nothing on the surface. I received help when I needed help. From my perspective, I was in no immediate danger other than getting hit by a car. However, after some time had passed, I had a revelation. As I was thinking about what had happened that night, it was if a veil had been lifted from my eyes and I saw the event clearly for what it was. The person who stepped to my aid was the spitting image of my cousin Tony, a big strapping farm-boy kind of guy with a heart as big as the ocean. Still, what's so special about that? You didn't recognize him.
Tony had been killed by a drunk driver about eight years before.
I believe in angels to this day.