Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.
~Hebrews 13:2
There was a time in my life when I wasn’t so sure that angels existed. Oh, I know that the Bible says they do, but since I had never had an angelic experience, I wasn’t so sure.
Fast-forward to several weeks ago when my husband and I decided to buy a cabin at Pinecrest Lake. We had been looking for just the right place for a while and we liked that area, mostly because we had great friends who already owned a cabin there.
We were supposed to receive a telephone call from the real estate agent who was to show us a cabin. Cell phone coverage is sketchy in that area, so we had to drive to a main road in order to receive the expected telephone call. As it turned out, we sat there longer than we had anticipated. She never did call at the appointed time, so I eventually phoned another agent.
As we waited just off the main highway, an older-model car pulled up on the driver’s side of our pickup truck. In it sat an old man who rolled down the passenger window of his car and asked my husband if we were okay. My husband told him that we were fine and were waiting for someone. The old man paused for just a second and then asked my husband if he had served in Vietnam. Since we have a couple of stickers on the back window of our truck that indicate he had indeed fought in that war, I didn’t think it particularly unusual that someone would ask that question.
My husband told him that he had served in Vietnam, and he mentioned the dates of his service there. The man then said, “Stay right here. I have something for you.” I don’t know if it’s because of the part-time work I do with the sheriff’s department, or if I’m just naturally suspicious, but I told my husband to be careful in case the man had a gun. Now I realize it sounds pretty weird, but in that moment, my mind just went there.
The old man pulled in front of us and got out. He took something out of the back seat of his car, walked over to my husband’s side of the truck and pushed forward an olive drab jacket that was neatly placed on a wooden hanger. He proceeded to tell us the story about a dear friend of his who had once owned the coat. This friend had told the old man that he should find a deserving person to give it to one day.
You’re probably wondering why this jacket was hanging in his car. Well, I asked him that, and he said that local authorities had him and the rest of the community on alert to evacuate because of the Rim Fire that was raging at that time. What he did not realize is that the evacuation notice had been lifted two days earlier. But with the anticipation that he and his wife might have to flee at any moment, everything he valued most was in his car, including this jacket.
On that day, the old man found the deserving recipient his friend spoke of. As the man was speaking, my husband held the coat, and I noticed that the jacket was authentic Army issue. On the hooded portion, there was an insignia. It was the insignia of the division my husband served with while in Vietnam in 1968: The First Infantry Division; The Big Red One.
I began to cry.
This dear man, a seventy-eight-year-old veteran of the Korean conflict, told us about his life. He experienced a debilitating heart attack several years back and was currently recuperating from yet another surgery. He told us about losing his first wife to cancer when she was only in her mid-thirties, and his eyes misted as he recalled the heartbreak of that loss. He thought he couldn’t go on, he said, that his own life was over as well. But he had three girls to raise, and somehow, by God’s grace, he mustered up the fortitude to go on alone.
Alone, that is, until a woman appropriately named Joy came into his life. She was widowed and had six children. With a twinkle in his eye, he said they married, and together they raised nine kids. I don’t recall how many grandchildren they have, but suffice it to say, they have a bunch.
“I believe in the biblical Acts where it says that it is better to give than receive,” he told us. His words pierced my heart in the most profound way. I got out of the truck, walked around to where he was standing, and asked if I could give him a hug. He said something sweet and endearing while I very gently hugged him, remembering that he had only recently had surgery.
I got back in the truck and reminded my husband that we were late for our appointment.
The gentleman spoke for a few more minutes. We exchanged names and addresses, and then my husband and I sat there and silently watched him walk back to his car and drive off. We both had lumps in our throats and could hardly speak. I think I said something silly about there being no angel wings on his back. My husband smiled, but had tears in his eyes, too.
We both realized pretty quickly that something extraordinary had just happened.
Did we encounter an angel along the highway? I just don’t know, but I do know that my husband received a treasured gift from a special person. But even more than that, our collective souls connected with someone extraordinary. And that is by far the best gift of all.
~Sunday Pearson
