When I was two years old my maternal grandmother died unexpectedly. It was bitterly cold on that January day in 1969. My mom bundled me up and loaded me into the car so we could to make the half hour drive through the countryside to her mother’s apartment so my mom could start making arrangements.

The roads were icy and the car ended up in a ditch. There was no way for my mom to back the car out. She had already been in tears during the drive because of her grief and now she was panicked, as it was dangerously cold and she was stranded on a remote country highway with her two year old.

Suddenly a farmer on an old tractor appeared. He motioned for her to stay in the car and he hooked up a chain and pulled us out.

He was only wearing a flannel shirt and wasn’t dressed to be outdoors in the bitter cold. There were no barns, garages or other buildings nearby and my mother was very perplexed as to where he came from.

After the car was safely out, my mom stepped out of the car so she could go thank him. He and the tractor were nowhere in sight.

She’s convinced he was an angel. I can’t argue with that.

I posted the above story as a comment in this post about angels on Rod Dreher’s blog yesterday. Check out that post and some of the other angel stories in the comments there if you enjoy that sort of thing.


Filed under: Stories/Storytelling


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