Sometimes I run into angels. That day I backed into an angel. Pretty sure. “Merry Christmas”. The elderly gentleman just said, “Merry Christmas”!
Last Christmas I had to run to Menard’s for something, and I may have not been paying perfect attention, but as I got ready to back out of my parking space, I did look back, I really did. I thought it was open behind me. I didn’t realize that there was anybody there until I heard an awful crunching sound and felt my car jerk to a sudden halt. I hate when that happens, because I’m just nuts about scrapes and dings on anything I own. I had backed right into the corner of this fellow’s car. I jumped out, profusely apologizing and trying to explain that I never saw him. Well, no kidding, Sherlock. I felt so bad for him, his nice car now scraped up, and for my own damage, and he just calmly said, “Don’t worry about it. It’s really nothing.”
I had an eerie feeling that either he was an angel sent to remind me that I needed to be more careful while backing up, or maybe that he had something seriously much worse than this event going on in his life, because he wanted nothing from me. No contact or insurance information, no exchange of phone numbers. All he said was “Don’t worry about it. It’s really nothing. Merry Christmas.”
An angel. A moment of Grace.