Angels Among Us: Getting Through One of Those Days (9-5-25)

Sometimes, things happen for a reason. Sometimes, people and things seem to drop into our lives at an appropriate time.

Angels among us? I’ve certainly had some encounters over the past year that loudly echoes the Bible verse of Hebrews 13:2 saying “some have entertained angels unaware.”

For example, in July 2024 in Brooklyn, New York, Dorinda and I met a stranger inside a restaurant. My wife – my Bear – was in the midst of chemotherapy. A trip to New York was a welcome respite, but she was tired that hot July day. In line for the single restroom, the stranger noticed she had lost her hair – a side effect of the chemotherapy – and waved for her to go next ahead of him. While waiting, I talked with him and learned he was a cancer survivor. Dorinda joined us a few minutes later as we continued to talk. He encouraged her to keep fighting, to not give up.

“Everybody ultimately wants the same thing, to love and to be loved,” he said as we hugged goodbye. An angel among us?

I’ve written more about encounters with angels on my Facebook page since losing Dorinda to cancer in April. Today, I’m writing about a couple more possible encounters during a trip to North Alabama last month. Maybe they weren’t angels, but I do believe they most certainly were people who were dropped into my life at the right time.

My trip to Florence was made for several reasons, chief among them a visit with my 4-year-old grandson, Rhys. I wrote more about him in last week’s column. I also had some business to take care of, including selling my car to an old friend.

But travelling north along I-65, problems seemed to start snowballing. It always seems to happen that way, doesn’t it? First, the SUV I drive started shaking rigorously. I thought it simply needed an alignment. Then I get to Florence and discover issues with the car I was selling. The AC had quit working. And the front grill guard was scraping the road. I didn’t want to sell my friend a car with any known issues – especially one with an AC not working in August. In Alabama.

So, I made back-to-back trips to a Florence garage. Remember what I said about problems snowballing? Turns out the problem with my SUV wasn’t the alignment. Nope. It turns out the band on the right front tire had split, giving me an extremely rough ride. The other tires were worn as well, so more good news there. It was quickly turning into an expensive road trip as a new set of tires were needed.

While waiting, I met a woman who also was having one of those days. We started talking and I learned she had recently lost her brother. I told her about my loss and we wound up having a good conversation. Like me, she was having a difficult day, managing grief and sitting in a garage waiting room most of the morning. I talked some, but mainly listened. Sometimes all we need to do is listen. Maybe we sensed each other’s loss, the problems snowballing.

Our cars ready for the road again after a couple of hours, I said goodbye to Ms. Judy. But you know, even after having to splurge to buy four new tires, and have AC work completed, I felt better leaving. I was reminded most of us have different types of problems we’re facing. And like my friend in Brooklyn said, ultimately, we all want the same thing: To be cared about and to have someone to care about.

After what had been a day, I wound up my trip that evening having dinner with another old friend. And one more chance encounter. After dinner, I went to Swampers, a bar and grill and music venue in Florence my wife and I had visited on anniversaries. If you’re ever up that way, check it out. It features a lot of memorabilia tracing the history of music in the area. After all, as Lynyrd Skynyrd sang, “Muscle Shoals has got the Swampers.”

I went alone that night, a poignant visit in that it was my first time there since losing my Bear. The guest artist that night was a talented musician playing an acoustic guitar and singing. Through the bustle of the crowd noise, I enjoyed listening to him for an hour or so. I was about to leave when he played the opening cords of one of my wife’s favorite songs. It’s a “deep” album cut, not something you would normally here someone play or even on the radio.

I stopped after hearing that song and sat down closer to the musician. I wanted to meet him and tell him how much that song meant to me. When he had a break, I introduced myself, and told him our story, as my voice cracked a bit. He listened. The artist, Christian Turner, told me how much he appreciated my kind words. That I had made his evening. I told him I looked forward to hearing him play again one day, maybe even around Gulf Shores.

As I left, I couldn’t help but wonder: Angels among us?

Sometimes.

, With Dorinda, outside Swampers in Florence, Alabama, after an anniversary dinner in December 2018.