THE WATCHERS

                                                               

          THE WATCHERS -MY HEAVENLY FATHER ALWAYS SENDS HELP

3 flights! One very long one! And a long taxi ride conducted in Spanish! Yup – and me no spring chicken any more: on the way to turning 73 at the time.  Oh, yes, and it was winter, too – New Year’s Day, 4 am to be exact, when I inched my way in the dark from a friend’s house in Sudbury, Ontario to a waiting cab to begin my 2-week trip to Mexico with my family.

It was towards the end of the long flight from Toronto to Mexico City that things began to get scary.  First, I had to fill out a very official-looking questionnaire written in tiny print, whose answers could affect my entry and exit from the country.  Fortunately, I had a small magnifying glass with me because such problems crop up often with my aging eyes.  As I squinted to read each word, a lady across the aisle, speaking perfect English, offered to help.  After she had checked over and approved my answers, we engaged in conversation:

“I wonder if I should have ordered wheelchair assistance.  Hmmm, maybe I should call it off,” I said, feeling guilty that, although able to walk, I sometimes needed such help in large airports.

“You won’t get any medals for NOT taking it,” was her no-nonsense answer.

As we talked, I learned that my companion was a part-time resident of Mexico, spending six months of the year there; fluent in Spanish and experienced in the Mexican culture.  I was so grateful to God for placing her beside me, and to the lady herself for being so willing to help me all the way through.  We became separated as I went to the waiting wheelchair.  My name and middle initial, Frances K. were run together to become “Franceska”, and that is what the proud, dignified Mexican official in charge of wheelchairs called me.  He took his office most seriously, and I was treated like a princess.  Finally, I was put in the charge of a friendly young man who whisked me through all the stations, waving at people he knew, and saying near the end,” Very good service.  Tapes?  Tapes, yes?”  I finally realized that he was trying to say “Tips?”!  My bilingual friend from the plane came along just then and informed me that 50 pesos would be plenty for a tip.  The young man glared at her.  I vowed to be better-prepared for tipping the next time. 

Seeing the vast size of the Mexico City airport, with trains to connect the terminals, I was more that glad to have wheelchair assistance.

On the way home, I sat beside a pleasant young man with glowing dark eyes who helped me with trays and such, and apologized for my seeing the “F” word on his phone.  I felt as if the Lord Himself was apologizing for my having to be exposed to this sort of language all the time.

It does not matter where I go, or what situation I find myself in.  The Lord always sends me assistance when I need it.  I think of the time I spilled strawberries all over the floor, right in the busy doorway of our local grocery store.  A young man came along and picked them all up, saying soothingly that everybody spills things sometimes.

When my late husband and I went for a drive in our van, on Good Friday one year, we got stuck and badly needed help.   We were in the middle of nowhere, in the bush, on a holiday, without a cell phone and just after my recent hip surgery, so that I was unable to walk the many miles to civilization.  Just then, a lone motorcyclist came along.  We gave him the phone numbers and addresses of our daughter, at our house, and our relatives in town. He promised that if these people were not home, he would come with his friends to rescue us.  An angel?  Maybe.  Soon, our pastor and his son came with a truck to pull us out.  Our daughter had telephoned them for help.  Our pastor knew the area like the back of his hand.  We were sorry to intrude upon their Good Friday family dinner, but so very grateful for the help.  Our daughter fed us lentil soup and fresh apple bread when we got home.  What a day!  But, even if we get ourselves into a jam, the Lord is so faithful to send us help.

I will never leave you nor forsake you.

              The Angel of the Lord encamps around those that fear Him.

I always know that I am safe under the Lord’s care.  What a faithful God!  So grateful.

You didn’t need to worry, kids –you really didn’t.  You did an excellent job of planning this wondrous family-and-friends vacation for us all.  You looked after me every minute, bore the heavy end financially, gave me an inimitable 73^rd birthday in Mexico, where I had always wanted to go, and showered me with love and adventure.  And, as you can see, many were watching over me along the way – perhaps some of them had wings.