The American Frontier pioneers were amazing people. They often left everything behind them, family, friends, and often even a continent. Many of them came propelled by faith in God. My family walked that very, very long, tedious, frightening walk.
Many of these pioneers were too poor to afford a wagon, forget oxen or horses to pull that wagon. So handcarts were used instead. The handcart was like a giant wheelbarrow. Into that handcart would go all of the things needed for survival, food, clothes, medicines, anything and all things that they could afford to purchase.
Imagine now that not only are you walking every single, exhausting day across an entire country, now you're doing it with possible hundreds of pounds of belongings? Going up hill would be exhausting, but going downhill? You are now not only proxy for horses or oxen, but for brakes as well.
One of my favorite stories to come from this amazing bank of stories is in regards to a young man. He later told others that on a specific day, in a specific time he was so weary that he didn't think he could move another step.
He was startled when he felt someone behind the handcart pushing it. His ability to pull the handcart became very light. Astonished he turned to see who was helping him. He couldn't see anyone, but he knew that someone was helping him. He ascribed that assistance to angels.
Angels, have a long history. There are many different beliefs about who they are, what they are, but to me it's quite simple. Angels are beings of love. They lighten our burdens when they become insufferable. Angels sometimes protect us from others or sometimes from ourselves.
When I was 16 or 17, I was crossing the street to my home one day. Being a teenager I was in a hurry. Aren't ALL teenagers in a hurry...often not knowing what they are hurrying to? I heard the screech of tires on a car going far too fast for our residential neighborhood. I looked up and saw a car barrelling towards me. I truly had the deer in the headlights experience. I could not move. I knew that I needed to run, but somehow I was frozen watching my probable death racing towards me.
Suddenly, there was a hand in my back, firmly it pushed me safely to my home. I knew that some kind person had seen the situation and helped me. I looked back to thank them. There was nobody there. My Mama, out in the yard watering, witnessed the entire event. She said, "You ran rather rapidly didn't you?"
I try my best not to do the all too human thing and explain that situation away. It is all too easy when confronted with something that you can't understand to look for explanations of reasoned intelligence. Faith is the evidence of things hoped for, but not seen. I choose to believe that I was blessed. To this day, 46 years later, I can still feel that hand in the small of my back pressing me to safety. My friend, waiting in her car for me witnessed the entire thing. My Mama witnessed the entire thing. Neither one of them saw anyone behind me.
Today, do you need an angel pushing your handcart as you climb up and down the hills of mortality? Remember that there are angels that we can't see with our all too limited vision. There are also human angels that we CAN see.
My Father was dying from cancer. I was traveling on a train in coach with two small children through the agonizingly long night. When I arrived at the destination I was exhausted, so were our children. My ride was not there. I called my Mother to see what was happening. She informed me that my Father had passed the night before. I was despondent. My Papa was one of my very best friends. I could not bear the thought that I didn't get to kiss him one more time, thank him in person for all the sacrifices that he made for me. I didn't want to come unglued in front of a waiting room full of strangers.
I took the kids and went in the restroom. There didn't seem to be anyone in there. I explained what had happened to the kids. They were far too young to really understand anything but that Mama was sobbing, and having a hard time speaking.
One of the stall doors opened. There had been a woman in the restroom that I had not noticed due to my extreme grief. She didn't say a word, she just wrapped me in the arms of love. The next words she said were, "I lost my Father a few years ago. I know how much this hurts. I'm so sorry!"
That was exactly what I needed at the time. Somebody who understood and cared. She enfolded me in the warmth of that hug for a few moments while I sobbed freely. Finally we both stepped back. She offered to get us food, asked if we needed a ride, She truly was an angel of mercy in human form.
Our ride came then. They had been at a different railroad in the town (Who knew there WERE two stations in the town)? I thanked our human angel and we went our separate ways.
We are NOT alone. Even in moments where we feel that nobody cares, nobody will help us, WE ARE NOT ALONE. Sometimes we have to be the ones to reach out for that love, that help, but we are not alone.
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