On a trip from Cleveland to Chicago during the late summer of 2011, my flight was delayed.
Storms in Chicago and storms in Cleveland pretty much the norm this time of year.
When my flight is delayed, I typically get a lot of work done. So, I became engrossed in the project I was working on and ignored everyone and everything around me. I was seated at a very crowded gate.
But, a couple of gates over was a man and two young little girls who appeared to be about 3 ½ years old and 18 months old; they were having a tough morning. When I arrived at the gate, I noticed them and tried to figure out if the man was the dad, granddad, or part-time father. Anyhow, I had plenty of work to do, and I’m pretty good at tuning out children. Besides, it’s not unusual to see a man traveling with young children, typically taking them back home to their mother, so I figured he was a part-time father. And I went on about my own business.
I could hear the girls fussing, and even as I was working, I could tell that he was struggling. But I kept working. It crossed my mind that maybe somebody would or should go over there and help, but that didn’t happen. Still, I kept working and tuning out the noise, or so I thought.
I said, “Can I help you?” He said, a little hesitantly, “Yes….you can”
About 45 minutes later, I looked at my work. Without a thought, I shut the computer down, and out of my mouth came these words “ I’m going to go help that man” I am not sure what the others around me were thinking, but I got up quickly and walked over.
I said, “Can I help you?” He said, a little hesitantly, “Yes….you can” I put my briefcase to the side and sat and talked with the girls for several minutes. The girls were adorable, the most precious little girls you’ve ever seen.
The father told me that the plane they were on had to land in Cleveland because of bad weather in Chicago. The airline gate agent said to him that he would have time to walk around, so he took the girls to get breakfast, walked around a little bit, and when he came back, the plane was gone. On the plane were diapers, bottles, everything he needed to take care of the girls, and with an 18-month-old, you can only imagine the need for diapers, and he was using paper towels from the men’s restroom.
He asked me if I would mind watching the girls so he could go out and look for diapers. When he came back, he looked a little puzzled, and I didn’t know then why he had a look on his face. But, I thought to myself… Well, Ann, you are a total stranger.
All along, the girls and I were playing as I told them little stories and asked them to sing to me. We played with whatever we had to play with. When the Father came back a second time, after being gone for a more extended period, the 18-month-old was incredibly content with me.
I thought to myself, their contentment is probably because they are happy that they have a woman around. When the father returned a 3rd time after taking the 3.5-year-old to the restroom, and this time leaving the 18-month-old alone with me…..he looked at me then rather suspiciously said: “What are you an Angel or something?.”
I must tell you; I felt like he was trying to look through me. He told me that the baby would never have stayed alone with a stranger.
I thought it strange that he asked if I was an Angel. This is not the first time I’ve been asked if I am an Angel. I joke that if I am an Angel, I know I’m a Wild Angel. In my life, the Lord has had a lot of patience with me.
I don’t think I need to tell you the overwhelming pressure in my chest and the swelling in my eyes.
I didn’t know how to answer him, but I said, “No, I’m not,” I asked, “Why do you ask?” He said, as well as he could without letting the 3.5-year-old daughter hear he was talking about their mother, his wife, who died four months earlier.
I don’t think I need to tell you the overwhelming pressure in my chest and the swelling in my eyes.
He told me he sold his businesses, bought a house across the street from the elementary school where he went to school in the small town outside of Chicago. He wanted to raise his children in the same town and give the children the kind of life that he had growing up. How beautiful is that?
We were delayed for another two hours, and so I sat, and we chatted for a while, and I helped to amuse the girls. I enjoyed every minute.
We exchanged email addresses, but as often will happen, I never got in contact with him.
Today, I will send him an email. Sometimes….it takes me a long time to figure things out. Last night, as I was lying in bed, I realized that there was an Angel in Concourse C and the Angel who persisted and inspired me to go to him, and his children must’ve been his wife.
I tell you this story because I have always believed Angels walk among us.
The Back Story
Happy Mother’s Day – I picked this story for Mother’s Day.
As I often do, I wrote this just after it happened. This experience has stayed with me for quite some time. Almost 9 years later, and I still have a hard time telling the story.
This is a memory I cherish. I have heard too many stories of experiences with Angels or the “unexplained” to brush this kind of thing off. I am thankful for the opportunity to have met this family. I will remember this experience for as long as I live.
What to Write About?
- The Hardest Story for You to Tell
- An Experience You Cherish
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