- Special Sections
- Public Notices
Having grown up with great-grandparents who were long-standing members of a holiness church, my childhood was peppered with stories of miracles and occurrences that could only have been wrought by God.
My great-grandmother told of a time when, due to a broken leg, she attended prayer service in a wheelchair.
After being prayed over, the cast was cut from her leg and she danced across the platform, demonstrating to all the miraculous healing that had taken place.
I would sit wide-eyed, listening to stories of encounters with angels in disguise; men who came along for a short time and ministered to my grandparents in one way or another, and then disappeared into thin air.
One such story involved someone who stopped to help when their car had broken down.
Another time, one came right to the front door, wearing a snow-white shirt, and my grandmother showed him hospitality.
After all, you never know when you might be “entertaining angels unaware”.
Obviously, my memories of these stories are a bit sketchy, but I have never in my life doubted their veracity.
I wish I could remember more details, but I definitely remember the conviction with which my great-grandmother shared these experiences.
I always wondered if I would recognize an angel, and what circumstances would require one to put in a physical appearance in my life.
When we planned our recent trip to Belize, we were all supposed to come home on the same day, so hubby left the car in the parking garage with the kids’ coats inside.
Originally, the plan had been that when we returned, he would pull the car up and come in with the coats.
Since business dictated that he must stay in Belize a few extra days, I arrived at our home airport with two small children, two large bags, three carry-ons, and a useless stroller.
And I wasn’t entirely sure where the car was parked. It had been such a long day, and it was so cold outside.
I gave the kids their hooded bath towels for a bit of warmth, and tried to maneuver everything to the elevator.
It was fairly late for a weeknight at the airport, so the place was pretty dead. I figured I’d just take it slow and steady and pray the babies didn’t suffer too much from cold.
As we approached the elevator an old man with a luggage cart was coming out.
He took one look at us and said, “Ma’am, do you need some help?”
Now, I have been in this airport at every time of day and night, and on every single day of the week, during every season of the year, and I have never seen a luggage porter near baggage claim, especially at an hour when the airport was practically a ghost town.
I said, “Well, sir, I could use some help, but I have absolutely no cash on me right now, so I would not be able to tip you.”
He wasn’t wearing anything that identified him as an airport employee.
In fact, if I hadn’t been so desperately tired, I probably would have been suspicious.
But instead, I was so thankful when he loaded up our luggage, freeing me to help the kids along since they tend to wander in opposite directions when we walk.
He took us all the way to the parking garage, and waited patiently while I located the car.
I told him I would just set the luggage on the ground so he could go on. Instead, he waited for me to put the kids’ coats on, and take their car seats out of the suitcases.
He then loaded everything for me.
In 10 minutes we had done what would have taken at least a half hour of struggling by myself.
I had watched for an ATM, and then dug around in the car hoping to find tip money, but had nothing. I shook his hand and said, “I desperately wish I had something to give you, but may the Lord bless you greatly for your kindness tonight.”
He replied, “The Lord blesses me every day! I was very happy to help you, ma’am.” And then he disappeared.
Probably I was distracted by the kids and didn’t see where he went. I thought I’d wave as we pulled around the aisle and headed to the exit, but he was truly gone.
Now, I have my own story to tell. God saw my need, and sent an angel in the form of an elderly luggage porter.