My Christmas Angel

This is a true story that happened to me and my family one Christmas Eve about 15 years ago.

My Christmas Angel

Every Christmas season the television is filled with magical shows about angels. Hallmark and Lifetime movies schedule shows almost continuously that play out that theme, almost to the point of being numb to their messages. I used to think that some of those story lines were ‘hokey’ but a few years back my mind was forever changed and now I see things differently.           

Everyone has an angel. At least that’s what I’ve come to believe. There was a time in my life I never would have believed in angels, or at least would be a die-hard skeptic but one Christmas Eve about fifteen years my whole take on angels changed drastically.

          I live in Texas, about 1500 miles from my Canadian family and my wife Lynda’s family. We hadn’t been able to go back to Ontario, Canada for Christmas for the past three years for various reasons. My dear old blessed mother was suffering from Alzheimer’s and we didn’t know how many more Christmases we would be able to have with her. I needed to be home to see her.

With that in mind we decided to purchase tickets to Detroit where we would rent a car from Thrifty Car Rental, head across the border into Windsor and then drive to our home town of Aylmer, Ontario. With that accomplished we packed our suitcases and with a high level of excitement and anticipation my wife, our daughter Deanna and myself drove to the San Antonio Airport.

          Things were going well. We got to the airport on time, actually early, and got checked in. That was easy since it was pre- 911. We found ourselves sitting in the waiting area directly across from the food area in the San Antonio Airport. The smells of aromatic fresh coffee and baked bagels were infiltrating our senses so my wife got up to get me a coffee and she and my daughter a hot chocolate. She returned to our not so comfortable seats with two rich steamy hot chocolates, a large hot cup of coffee for me and three bagels with cream cheese on the side.

          We ate our small but delicious breakfast and the lady at the Continental desk announced that Flight #4053 to Houston was ready for departure. We got up, hurriedly got together our carry ‘ons’, which were full of Christmas presents and souvenirs of Texas to give to our friends and families back home and then took out our tickets. Our tickets told us that we would change planes in Houston and then head to Detroit.

          Unknown to me my wife had downsized her large brown purse she usually carried and changed it to a small blue one that held her cash, credit cards, identification and most importantly her ‘green card’, her way of crossing the border. In her haste she left it on the seat where she was sitting.

          We hustled down the gateway into the plane where we conveniently found our seats about one third of the way down the plane, a Boeing 707. We sat down in our assigned seats, all of us occupying one row in seats DEF on the right side of the plane. It was at that moment my wife realized she had left her purse on the seat. Everything about this day was drastically going to change.

“I can’t find my purse. It was with me when I was in the waiting area...when I got us our breakfast. I think I left it there.”  She was frantic.

“Are you sure? Is it in your carry ons?” She quickly searched her small piece of luggage she had brought on with her. She shook her head. It wasn’t there.

“What are we going to do? We can’t leave without it. It has all my important papers in it.” Her voice was trembling. A green card to an ‘alien’ is like blood to our bodies. Without it you are literally ‘dead’.

“I’ll go out and find it.” I championed the cause. Should be easy, I thought, since I pictured it lying on or next to her seat.

I rushed out against the flow of passenger traffic telling the stewardesses that I had to get back in to the waiting area where my wife thinks she had left her purse. They allowed me to go but only with a caution to hurry back because the plane was ready to depart, and being the day of Christmas Eve, they wanted to make sure people made their connections.

          That I understood so I rushed to the area where we were sitting in the waiting area, the smells of coffees still lingering in the air. After a cursory search there was no purse to be seen. At that moment ghastly thoughts entered my head and it was not of the ‘fairy plum fairy’ variety. Had someone stolen her purse or was it just picked up by the airline personnel? I left all our pertinent information with the pleasant and understanding lady at the airline desk. I then I decided to return back to the plane, not wanting it to take off without me.

           Since this was pre-cell phone I couldn’t immediately call the special number in order to cancel the cards so someone wouldn’t fraudulently use them. Could I do that when we arrived in Houston? Did I need to take out ‘handfuls of cash’ from the ATM machine when we arrived in Houston so I could pay for our car and all the other things we needed on our trip? I had, thank God, brought some extra cash with me as had my daughter. Could we get my wife across the border and back without her ‘alien card’? Too much confusion clouded my brain.

          With all those thoughts rushing through my head I re-entered the jet and we headed to Houston. I explained to the family my plan for when we arrived there. We had ample time to accomplish it if all went well. After our short hop the plane touched down, taxied to the jet way and we disembarked, looking everywhere in the concourse for a pay phone and an ATM machine.

Both were in sight and I hurriedly ran to them while Lynda and Deanna went to the next departure gate to wait for me. I made my call and immediately all our cards were cancelled.  I then took out the requisite amount of money from my bank, as much as they allowed me. I felt a deep sigh of relief when that was over as I pictured some crook already in North Star Mall, maxing out our cards. The cash that she had in the purse, I knew, was long gone and never to be recovered. I met them at the gate.

          Take off, flight and landing went smooth. We all were more relaxed as I sat in my seat, my wallet full of cash, some of it also divided between my wife and daughter. There was nothing I could do about the border. Surely they had her information on a computer file and if nothing else, perhaps I could bluff our way through it. Our thoughts returned to visions of cooked turkey, pies, candies, cookies and of course my mother’s welcoming smile.

          After retrieving our luggage we walked out into the arctic blast that met us and shivered in it until the tiny blue van marked “Thrifty Car Rentals” made its way towards us. It seemed like an eternity as we stood there in our ‘not so winter’ wear, hands in pockets and puffs of white frosty air puffing out of our noses and mouths. It was cold, even for a native Canadian. Had the years of living in Texas thinned our blood that much?

          Finally the van picked us up and drove us off the airport to the rental ‘hut’. We got out, bags in hand and I went up to the desk to get our car. It was now about 4:00 pm. I took out my driver’s license and cash and spoke to the agent at the desk.

“Reservation for Mark Elley” I stated. I handed him my license.

“May I have your credit card Mr. Elley?” He barked at me from behind the desk.

“I don’t have one that is presently functional but I do have cash.” I sheepishly said this as deep in my heart I hoped he would believe me and allow me to pay in cash as I planned.

“We don’t take cash Mr. Elley. Are you sure you don’t have a card?”

“No, I had to cancel our cards in Houston since my wife had her purse stolen this morning as we boarded the aircraft in San Antonio.” I explained to him loud and clear but in a pleading voice what had transpired.

“I’m sorry but I can’t rent you a car without a credit card.”

I thought for a second. “My daughter has a card. Will that do?”

“How old is she?” he queried.

“She’s twenty...will be twenty one in January.

“Too young” he said in a scolding voice as if I was supposed to know better.

“Then what shall I do?” I asked.

“I’ll call some other agencies and see if they’ll rent you one.” My spirits began to perk up with this faint glimmer of hope. He got on his phone and made some calls. It soon faded as he announced.

“No one will rent you a car, Mr. Elley. Most of them have no cars available. It is Christmas Eve, you know.” I shot him a look of disgust as if to ask him if he thought I was a moron or something. Of course I knew it was Christmas Eve. Wasn’t that the whole point? What kind of Scrooge was he?

“You could try the bus to go across the border but you’ll have to go back to the airport to catch it.” He looked at the bus schedule he had taken from the long counter between us, rolled his eyes and said “I’m sorry the last bus to go across to Canada just left.”

“Then what am I to do...we are to do...” I pointed at my wife and daughter who were sitting there on their plastic blue chairs with a sullen look on their face and with a small tear ready to roll down their cheeks.

Deanna cried out “Dad what are we going to do? What about Grandma and Christmas?”

“Mr. Elley, you need to get out of line. There are others wanting to get their cars.” What about my car, I thought? I would try one more tactic as I was running out of options.

“Could I leave the cash here and then you can let me have the car? Please...I need to be at my brother’s house in three hours. I haven’t seen my mother in three years and she’s dying of Alzheimer’s disease. I need to be there. There might not be another Christmas for her. Please let me have a car. We have no other way to get there; we are out of options!” I had gone from rationalizing to pleading.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Elley...next person please!”

Then from a corner of the small room a voice rang out. “Wait a second here. I’ll rent him a car. Use my credit card. Put it in my name.” A man dressed in a long winter coat held up a credit card in his left hand.

I turned to the voice. “Are you sure? You don’t even know me. I’m good for it but are you sure?”

“Yes, my wife and I have been listening to your pleas and your story. We thought losing some luggage for a short time was unpleasant but what you and your family are going through right now is horrendous. I’ll rent you this car and you can pay me back later.” I was taken back by this ‘saviour’s’ behaviour. I was a total stranger to him. Why would he do this for me?

Again I asked. “Are you sure? We need the car for a week.”

He looked at his wife and she shook her head in agreement and he went over to the desk and handed the agent, who was only doing his job, his credit card.

“Thank you” my wife insisted.

“Thank you so much...you have saved Christmas for us” added Deanna.

          We all shook hands with our benefactors. I wrote down my name, address and phone number and gave it to the man. He was from Boston, Mass. and worked for Coca-Cola there. I took down all his particulars also. I made a mental note to write the Coke Company and tell them what a wonderful and generous employee they had. The transaction was completed, documents signed and I gave my cash to the agent and watched him place it in an envelope and seal it in his safe. I had insisted that he figured out the rental to the penny before I accepted the man’s generosity.

Before we left we shook hands and said our “Merry Christmases” to each other and in my mind I determined I would never rent from Thrifty again.

          When we got in our rental car I turned to my family and said “This might seem crazy but I think God just sent us an angel this Christmas Eve. That has to be the only explanation that this man and his lovely agreeable wife were in that rental office when we were there. God works in extraordinary ways and this was one of them.” There was no other explanation. Why would a perfect stranger risk his credit and his money to give me this Christmas gift on that cold and snowy Christmas Eve?

          We crossed the border without problem and God rewarded me with another blessing as my dementia stricken mother’s eyes lit up when I entered my brother’s house that Christmas Eve. I held her in my arms and she mouthed words that I hadn’t heard for years... “I love you Mark”. This time I wiped away a tear on my now moistening cheeks.

          To this day I believe in angels and the marvelous works that our Lord and Saviour bestow on us. Your own angel is out there waiting to help you in your time of need. Hopefully there is a little angel in every one of us. It was an angel that guided Mary and Joseph. It was my angel at Christmas that saved us that evening.

          So now when I watch those Christmas movies with the angels in them I flash back to my Christmas angel experience and wonder who he’s helping now. Somehow I think he’s still with me.