Do You Believe in Angels? Things They Can’t Say

My name is Lourie. I am a wife and mother of three. I go to school online and try to manage my crazy life. If you have uttered the phrase, “Nobody would ever believe my life!” You and I are cut from the same cloth.

Do you believe in angels? I do. I am not talking about white gowns, wings, halos and harps. I am talking about the ones who walk amongst us. I am talking about ordinary people who do extraordinary things. I would classify them as angels.

What classifies them as angels is these people don’t see themselves as such. They just see their acts as what any person would do in that situation. Is it though? To fully appreciate my meaning, I need to take you on journey back in time. It’s not a long journey since I am not that old. My children might roll their eyes at the thought of another tale of when I was a “kid” or when I was “their age.” However, to grasp my belief in angels walking the earth I need you to come with me back in time.

It’s the fall of 1988 and I am a senior in high school. I beg of you to please refrain from math at this time for that is not the purpose of this story. I didn’t have a car like some kids did. My parents believed if I were to obtain a car it was to be on my own through good old fashioned hard work. In other words, I had to get a job and save my money. Since I didn’t have a car and school was two miles away I had to either ride the bus or I could ride my bike. I chose the latter as I could control the schedule and I didn’t have to sit next anyone I felt who was “less than desirable.” This comes from a person who is extremely introverted as well as having a high phobia about germs.

I don’t remember if the day was hot or cold. I do remember I didn’t have a book bag and that I opted to carry my books in one hand and handled the bike with the other. I remember doing this daily to and from school without incident. I even had a shortcut of sorts. I was on my way to school just like any other morning when I came to my first big intersection.

I hated this intersection as it was only a two-way stop. The major street had the through way and it was a struggle to get across whether you were a pedestrian, a bicyclist, or a motorist. I saw my opening and rose on the pedals and with fury and speed got across the street in record time.

Then in a flash, I have no idea how it happened. I just know that it happened. Somehow I flew off of my bike and landed; hard beside it. It could have been a rock in the road, a misjudgment of direction of handle bars, or it could be that I lost my footing on the pedals. The point is I do not know what happened. All I know is I was airborne and landed on my left leg.

The pain was agonizing. At least to my knowledge of 18 years it was the worst pain I had yet experienced. The pain I felt in my leg brought tears to my eyes. I screamed a scream I wouldn’t scream again until I gave birth to my third baby.

I was in trouble. I couldn’t see for a long time. At least that is how it felt. All I could think about was the amount of pain I was in. I could not stand up at all. Thoughts were racing through my mind. How do I get help? I scooted myself to the nearby curb the searing pain in my leg making it impossible for me to bear any weight on it.

As luck would have it, a friend of the family just happened to live very close by to where I fell. Further luck for me was that he worked graveyard shift and he would still be awake after coming home from his shift. All I would have to do is crawl to his house. Remember, this is 1988 before every person had a cell phone and we did what we had to do because that notion was ludicrous.

Just as I was figuring out exactly how to crawl, how to position my bike, and where to leave my books a middle school girl was walking by on her way to school. I caught her attention and asked her to help me. I must have hollered and waved. It was so long ago that this part seems fuzzy to me. I probably terrified this poor child who was warned not to talk to strangers, but in my weakened state she must have figured she had a fighting chance.

Somehow I managed to describe the house where our family friend lived; since I could not think of the address. The house was literally two houses from where I fell down. I was simply on the adjacent street and out of sight. The little girl nodded, ready to march over this stranger’s door and tell them to come and get me. I might have stated my name, but honestly don’t remember. It all happened so quickly, and the pain was getting worse by the second. I just wanted to go home.

At that precise moment, a car turned down the street that I was on and the driver pulled over. I was thankful and not at all concerned for my safety. My rescuer had come. I sent the girl on her way, but not before I thanked her for her willingness to help. I am certain that if the grown up stranger had not arrived this young girl would have done what I asked. She was ready to help me, or so it seemed.

A woman emerged from the tiny vehicle. She was middle aged I guess. When you are 18, you are not a very good judge of age. I decided though that she was my mother’s age or maybe older. She acted very much like a mother. The very first thing she did after asking me if I was okay was pile me into her car. She gathered my things and handed them to me. Then she somehow managed to cram my bike into the trunk of her car. She asked me where I lived, and I told her. It never once occurred to me that she would have cause to hurt me.

When she brought me home, she didn’t just open the door and tell me, “Here you go kid.” This sweet woman took my bike out and parked it on the porch, and then she helped me into my house. Fortunately for me, my mother was home that day. However, her car was in the shop and we required the assistance of a neighbor for a ride to the hospital. We thanked the woman, whom we had never met and would never see again for rescuing me that day.

I did in fact break my leg. I don’t know what I would have done without my rescuers. For I believe the little girl was an angel in training, and the woman was an angel indeed. For you see, the woman, the girl both showed up within seconds of me falling off of my bike. I was otherwise alone and helpless. I had a broken leg and could not move myself. Perhaps the little girl was there long enough only to let the motherly angel get to me. I will never know. I do know that on that day I was watched over despite the fact that I broke my leg.

I was taken care of through the kindness of strangers, or through angels among us. Do you believe in angels? I do.