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Episode 12: "Stepping Back In Time"

My next assignment was an unusual one. Time and space didn’t have too much relevance now but I seemed to go into the future as well as the past. You cannot argue with Him about where He takes you or what He wants you to do and see. Even though I am an angel, He still is teaching.
In the year 1959, a seasonal snow was falling in Colorado and a man named Mr. Morrison was traveling in his ‘49 Chevy truck. He as a World War I veteran who lived alone in Houston. His wife had passed away 10 years before. He was still driving and had a clear enough mind for it. His children would always try to talk him into moving in with them. He still wanted his independence. He lived in a one bedroom downstairs apartment. The usual nagging of the landlord, Miss Harper, who lived in the front house, seemed to be his only complaint. She would always accuse him of wasting too much water while he was watering his inside plants.

He seemed to be a tough old bird, so to speak, but he had a tremendous love for people. He’d seen a lot of tragedy, both at home and abroad. Waking up every morning and putting on his khaki uniform is how he would start out the day. Coffee with breakfast would be a delight when someone would come by and share it with him. But there weren’t many of those episodes. Not too many people were interested in having breakfast with an old man who could tell stories as quickly as you would ask for them, especially to children as they would come around sometimes just to hear about the war. He would always have some apple juice to serve any guests who would show up at his doorstep. That would always quench their thirst in the summer heat.

Sometimes he would be reluctant to tell them about the war because it would bring back sad and tragic memories. But he would turn the thing around and only tell them about the great lands he had visited in the past and how wonderful people were even though they spoke different languages. And that to have friends, you had to be a friend, with no paid to the differences. The neighborhood children somehow loved and confided in him like the grandfather most of them never had. A lot of problems that the children had were often solved on his front porch just by listening to them while sipping on some cold apple juice. Sometimes parents would call Mr. Morrison to make sure their runaway children were ready to come home yet.

Morrison would phone back to secretly report and say, “Give us a little while and they’ll be home directly. They’ve asked for more apple juice.” Yes Mr. Morrison was quite a guy. All these wonderful moments would be ringing in his memory while he was driving in Colorado on that snowy evening. All of a sudden a stranded car with a flat tire in need of replacement appeared on the side of the road and like a good guy, he stopped to help. It was a high mountainside road with a 500 foot drop. He knew they needed help. There was only a four foot guardrail and a strong snow wind blowing. Two men appeared from behind a tree and before Morrison could say anything, they jumped him like a pack of angry wolves guarding their cubs. It was a quick attack. The final scene was seeing Morrison on the ground as they stomped on his back and left him for dead.
I thought I was sent to be his guardian angel, yet I wasn’t allowed to intervene. Forty-five minutes went by and Morrison was still unconscious in the snow. The killers were long gone. To my surprise Morrison was still holding on. I was allowed to appear to someone in the middle of the road and they followed me but never saw me again. This Good Samaritan found Morrison and somehow felt that this was a supernatural guidance.

I created a small avalanche in a distant mountainside. The two killers were caught in that same avalanche. They seemed to have been buried alive and weren’t found until the next spring. Needless to say they now reside in a lower existence.
The next thing Morrison remembered was waking up in a hospital room. The doctor finally came and spoke to him.

The Doctor said, “Mr. Morrison, you are quite a lucky man. When they brought you in, you were almost dead. We put you back together again in more ways than one.”

Mr. Morrison said, “What do you mean by that doctor?”

The doctor explained, “We had to operate and we found broken ribs that had punctured your lung and a ruptured spleen. Not to mention your broken legs and broken hip. But as we explored a bit more, we found an aneurysm in one of your main arteries of the heart. This would have been your total demise within a week or so. I believe that someone up there really loves you Mr. Morrison. You are a fortunate man.”

Well He doesn’t let me in on everything, even though I am an angel. But when it is revealed, it is always by surprise. Needless to say, Morrison felt as if he had been given a new lease on life. He lived on earth another 25 happy years. And at the age of 105, he finally made it beyond the hill. And I was there to say to him, “Welcome home Mr. Morrison.”

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