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I’m not an angel

David Duerksen


At 7 p.m. on Thursday, January 6, 2000, in the light rain, I was strapping down and tarping 48,000 pounds of garage door frames and hinges. They came from Helton Industries in Abbotsford, B.C. and were to be delivered to Able Manufacturing in Houston, Texas by the 10th of January.

My wife Marion picked me up at 8 p.m. We drove home, and I had a shower and a sandwich. At 9 p.m., she drove me back to the truck. I kissed her goodbye and headed for the US.

Friday and Saturday were spent driving steadily. Nothing new or exciting was happening – I was just cruising for many miles.

On Sunday morning, I fueled up in Amarillo, Texas, then drove southeast on Highway 287. I noticed the ditches were full of white stuff that looked like snow. When I drove through Lelia Lake, I saw a cotton mill and realized that this white stuff was cotton. Further down the road, I noticed a green field of winter wheat with cattle grazing in it. In Wichita Falls, I encountered road construction.

On the open road east of Jolly, I noticed a car parked in a picnic area off the highway. A lady was kneeling at the left front wheel, with two children beside her. She had a flat tire. Deciding this lady needed help, I applied the brakes and stopped the truck, manoeuvring it to park behind her car.

I got out of the truck and walked to the lady, who was trying to loosen the nuts from the wheel. I said, “Lady, can I help you?”

She looked up at me, and I could tell she was crying. She said that two guys had just left – they had stopped to help her, but when she had told them that she was going to a church, they had sworn at her, thrown the wrench down, gotten into their car and driven away. She went on to say that there was an anniversary celebration at her church that afternoon, that a lunch was being served, that she had all of the desserts in her car and that she should have been there over an hour ago. She had two children, a four-year-old girl and a one-and-a-half-year-old boy. They had dropped off her daughter’s friend before going to the church, and this had put them on a different road. If her husband or any of the church people came looking for her, they would not find her.

I could see the fright in her eyes, so I said, “My name’s Dave, and I’m a Christian.”

She smiled through her tears and replied, “You’s not only my friend; you are my brother” – to which I agreed.

I removed the wheel and got the spare tire out of her car, but found that it was flat as well. She had told me that her name was Mary. I saw her hopes fade when she saw the flat spare. I told her that my truck had a large air system and that I could pump up the spare (the original tire was ruined). I pumped up the spare, but it leaked and soon lost its air.

Mary looked very dejected. I took both of the flat tires and chained them to the headache rack on my truck. Mary said, “I don’t think that the tire shop in town is open today.” I then walked to her car, picked up a large box of desserts and put it in the truck cab behind the seats. I got the second box and put it in the same place.

Mary looked at me with a puzzled expression. “What are you doing?” she said. “You can’t do that!”

I said, “Mary, I want you and the kids to get into the truck. You said you are late. We are going to the anniversary, but first I need to know if I can turn this contraption around at the church and how far it is.”

She told me where it was and where to turn – it was about five miles. I asked her the name of the church, and she told me it was Calvary Baptist Church.

“Oh,” I said, “I attended a Calvary Baptist Church in Killarney, Manitoba for a time many years ago.”

When we got to the church, I found I could drive right through the yard and out the back, so I pulled up in front of the front door and stopped.

Mary and the children went ahead of me into the church, and I followed, carrying the boxes of dessert. I noticed the whole congregation was black. Questions came from the people waiting: “Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick. We’ve been looking for you, and we’ve been praying that God would send His angels to protect you.”

Mary answered, “An angel did find me, and he protected me. He was driving a big white truck, he brought us here, and there he is.” She then told them everything that had happened. She asked the people at the church what time they had been praying for her protection. When they told her, she said that it was the same time that I had stopped to help her.

One of the men came over to shake my hand. His hand was so huge that my hand felt small in his. He said that his car was the same as Mary and Howard’s (Mary’s husband); he had checked his spare tire, and it was OK. He would put his spare tire on their car so that they could go home. This same man said that he had heard of angels helping out before, but did not know if it was true or not. He looked at me and said, “You are living proof that it’s true.”

I had some dessert with these folks and enjoyed their fellowship, but I could not stay long, for I had many miles to drive. Many at the church prayed for me; it was a blessing. When I went out to leave, I took the two flat tires off my truck, laid them on the church step and was back on the road again.

After a few more hours of travelling, I was getting close to Houston, but then ran into dense fog. I knew I was close to a truck stop, and when I saw its flashing amber lights, I turned off the highway. It was around 9 p.m. Sunday night. I was both tired and relieved, and thanked the Lord for guiding me safely through the fog. I phoned Marion and told her where I was, then went to bed in the sleeper and immediately fell asleep. The alarm was set for 2:30 a.m. When it woke me, there was still a dense fog, so I set it for 3:30 and went back to sleep. At 3:30, it was clear, so I bought a cup of coffee and headed for Houston.

I drove into the city on the freeway for several miles, and got off at 34th Street. At the first red light, I noticed a semi-truck at the green light, not moving. When I got the green light, I drove through. The semi-truck made a right turn and followed me as soon as I had cleared the intersection. When I turned onto a different street, he followed me. If I slowed down, he slowed down. When I turned, he turned. I decided to ignore him. When I came to my destination and drove into the yard, the truck followed and stopped right behind me. It was 6 a.m. on January 10.

I got out of the truck just as the chap in the truck behind me did the same.

He was a Hispanic man. He had a big grin on his face as he walked over to me, put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Thank you. You have helped me very much. I couldn’t have done it without you!”

I answered him with a question: “What did I do?”

He told me that he was from Tennessee, that he had arrived in Houston about the time the fog had closed in and that he had become disoriented. He had been driving around for a few hours, not knowing where he was. When he saw my truck drive by, he decided to follow it, thinking it might take him to an industrial area.

I noticed a sticker on the passenger door window of his truck that read “God is Awesome.” I read it out loud and agreed that God is awesome.

He replied, “Praise the Lord!” He then raised his hands and thanked the Lord for answering his prayer and sending an angel to guide him to his destination. He said that when the white truck went by the intersection, he knew that that was his angel. The thing that shocked him, he explained, was that he was led right to where he was to unload: Able Manufacturing.

We parted ways. It had felt good to share a little bit of fellowship and praise with this brother. How wonderful it is to be part of the family of God.


David and Marion Duerksen are members of Northview Community Church in Abbotsford, B.C.

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Last modified July 16, 2000.

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