Random Acts of "Kindness"


I have received “help” from the other side for years. But I was not aware of it. My mother and brother passed over when I was four. I’ll credit my mother as the primary force but I have no real information to back it up. I thought I lead a rather normal life until my father passed over and shared the secret. Looking back, I remember when I was in the country, driving on a lonely back road when my tire went flat. From nowhere, a young man pulled up in a truck and stopped to help. He had no trouble jacking up my car, and getting the tire off and the spare on. Luckily it had air. The young man wouldn’t take any money for his assistance and remarked he was a member of a race crew when I complimented him on his ability to change the tire so quickly.

Another night, driving out to our camper alone in the winter, the road turned to black ice and I lost control of the car, ending up in a ditch. Another man in a truck stopped to help, borrowed a chain from a nearby farm house and pulled me out.

I’m sure other things happened when I was traveling while my father was still alive. These two stick out in my memory. When my father’s memory deteriorated from Alzheimer’s disease, there where many instances when I received help and even became more or less aware of it. Learning sometimes comes slowly.

The past week I attended the wake of my son’s ex-mother-in-law. We live on the North side of Chicago. The wake was at 193rd street and Wolf Road. Far on the south side. I took the expressways to the funeral home but at 2:30, traffic was already a challenge. There was no way I wanted to take the expressways back home.

Since we live on the North side, I’m able to wander with some confidence on streets or expressways depending on the trip. I was lost on the South side. So I asked for help. Luckily there was a person who was knowledgeable and offered advice on an alternate. When I mentioned my planned route home, the husband of the deceased expressed concern for some of the neighborhoods I would be traveling through. “That’s alright,” I remarked. “I travel with angels.” And thankfully, I do. I was amazed at the words that had come out of my mouth. I just don’t always remember. Which is why I’m sharing with you.

At the funeral, I searched for the person and thanked him. It had been a pleasant drive, through the forest preserves, stress free,  — about 2 hours — but it wasn’t bumper to bumper traffic.

Short postscript: I shared this story with my middle daughter. She was concerned that I had received a warning and did not pay attention. In my defense I wish to mention that I’m not extremely brave, I don’t depend on my friends in high places to keep me from harm . I try to use common sense to the best of my abilities and am thankful for their assistance when challenges occur.

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