An old white pickup

"I am Raphael, one of the seven holy angels, which present the prayers of the saints, and which go in and out before the glory of the Holy One."  Then they were both troubled, and fell upon their faces: for they feared. 

Tobit 12:15-16

When I was very small my Mother used to tell me that God had sent His Angels to watch over us on earth, but that you could not really see them.  She told me that my sister was an Angel and my two grandfathers were Angels as well.  I took this to mean that they were invisible except when you weren't looking and that perhaps, if I were fast enough, I could turn around quickly and catch them before they could change.  I found myself looking behind me in mirrors or in the reflection of windows- always checking to see if they were there.  I can never be sure but as a child I was certain that I saw them once or twice.

Then I grew up.  And as with most people the end of childhood brought the end of childish fantasies but part of me still wondered if they were still out there.  I mean it makes sense... but perhaps we weren't intended to ever see them?  Or maybe we just weren't supposed to know when we saw them.


The first summer I was here I was convinced that I had a stalker.  I mean really- how many old, plain white pickup trucks can there be in the state of Texas?  Answer- a lot. And the all seemed to be following me.  I was so convinced that I was being followed that I told my family about it.  They laughed and said there were just a lot of white pickups around.

Then one fateful day I was driving back from the airport, stopped at a red light on a hill, about a mile and a half from my house, and the engine stopped.  I had no clue what had just happened and I was scared stiff.  The light turned green and I could only roll backwards and there were a dozen cars behind me.  I tried to turn on the hazards but I couldn't manage that either and sat there with my foot on the break and my hand on the wheel like a vice grip.  Panic set in as I called my aunt, but she couldn't come and rescue me because I had her car.  And then a white pickup pulled up beside me.  The driver asked if I was okay.  I shook my head at the middle aged Mexican man who reminded me of my Father.  He smiled and I will never forget when he told me, "It's going to be okay and I'm going to be okay."  He backed up behind me and shouted for me to let go of my break and turn the car towards the side of the road.  I've been driving that road for years now and I still don't know how we managed to get my old blue truck onto the shoulder.  Once my foot was back on the brake he came back and asked if I had called someone.  I nodded between my tears and he smiled again- that same reassuring smile that I knew I would never forget- "You'll be okay."

A few weeks later I got lost coming home.  Admittedly it is not infrequent for me to get lost but a white pickup appeared in front of me and I followed it.  Before I knew it I was back on a familiar road.  Another time I was driving with a few small children and I couldn't get off the highway because no one would let me in.  Finally a white pickup slammed on his breaks and waved for me to go. 

After a few of these happenings I told my aunt that I thought my guardian Angel drove an old white pickup and she laughed at my description.  I might have been offended except she told me a similar story- when she was in DC with her two eldest, one asleep in the stroller, and the other toddling next to her.  She got stuck on the escalator and couldn't get the stroller off while her toddler tried to keep up.  A man appeared on the seemingly abandoned subway station, lifted up the stroller and helped her off and then grabbed her toddler and set her down safely on the ground.  He asked her, "Are you alright?" and when she said "yes" he disappeared. 

A week ago I was driving with Tio and the blue truck stopped working at the top of the hill.  I climbed into the drivers seat and he got in front of the truck trying to guide it back down the hill so we could park it out of traffic.  Someone cut me off and I had to slam on the breaks- therefore losing all momentum.  I was wondering what we were going to do since Tio was having trouble moving it before when I suddenly realized that we were moving again.  I looked in the rear view mirror and saw Tio and a blue collar worker pushing the truck.  I asked him later and Tio said the man had just appeared and said, "Where do I push?" I meant to thank the kind stranger but he disappeared as soon as the truck was in a parking space.

All these instances weren't really miracles per-say- or if they were they could only be classified as little miracles.  Even so I don't think we live for the parting of waters or the banishing of demons- cause really, how helpful is that in day to day life.  I live for the little miracles- remembering my keys before I lock the door, making the yellow light before it turns red, slowing down and not hitting the deer in the road I didn't see.  I live for the little miracles because it is further proof that God is with me, my Angel is with me, even when I forget to look for him. 

Then he took them both apart, and said unto them, "Bless God, praise him, and magnify him, and praise him for the things which he hath done unto you in the sight of all that live. It is good to praise God, and exalt his name, and honorably to shew forth the works of God; therefore be not slack to praise him. It is good to keep close the secret of a king, but it is honorable to reveal the works of God. Do that which is good, and no evil shall touch you."

Tobit 12:6-7