I sat in the restaurant in Columbus, Georgia, nervously wolfing my salad and looking for a sign that the tow truck had arrived in the dark parking lot. If he got back to Ft. Benning in time, my son John would graduate from Ranger School the next day. Tough luck that his clutch had burned out just as he pulled into the restaurant parking lot.
I kept telling myself that all would be well. Our party of four had come in two cars, so I could stay and take care of John’s car while the others drove him back. I’d taken rides in a tow truck before, but always in my hometown, where I knew where to go and what to do. Even there, not all the drivers had been pleasant men. One had been downright snarly, nasty. I hoped I wouldn’t get someone like that again, especially here, where I didn’t know my way around.
The man who climbed down from the cab of the tow truck was a big, big man: very tall and very wide. His skin was so dark that it was hard to distinguish his features. I admit that my heart lurched. By the dim overhead light I read the name embroidered on his shirt. Roy. I smiled and thanked Roy for coming. Roy smiled back, and with that smile and a few gentle words, all my fears evaporated.
Several people came out of the restaurant as Roy attached chains to the underside of the car. One of them, obviously drunk, shouted racist and disparaging things. Roy either didn’t hear or ignored the man. Several people offered to give me a ride. One couple told me it wasn’t safe for a white woman to ride in a tow truck with a black driver. I assured them I didn’t need their help, clambered into the cab, and off we went.
Talking with Roy was easy. I told him that I was a teacher, and he shared that his son had dyslexia. We discussed education, parenting strategies, and how hard it was to find the right school for a boy with special needs. Roy praised God for giving him a wife who was patient and level headed. He called his son, a 14-year-old freshman football player, a big, scary-looking kid who was really a teddy bear. It was clear that this man cared deeply about his God and his family, and that the son took after the father.
At the dealership, Roy helped me fill out the information on the envelope for the nighttime key drop. I asked for the number for the local taxi service, but he insisted on driving me back to the hotel himself. As we pulled up, he told me that I could put my feet up and rest: my night of troubles was over.
I told him I had no time to relax. My husband’s schedule had cleared, and he was able to make it to graduation. I was going to grab a cup of coffee, then make the hour and a half drive to the Atlanta airport to meet him when he landed at 1 am. Roy’s smile faded. He warned me to drive in the left lane because deer came out at night. He also told me which exits were safe for a woman alone at night and which were not.
And then we prayed together. Roy asked the Lord to protect me on my drive, and I asked for guidance for Roy’s son’s reading problems. Roy gave me his number and made me promise that I’d call the next day. He wanted to make sure I made it back safely, and he offered to tow my son’s car to another mechanic if the dealership’s estimate was too high.
I drove all the way to Atlanta singing hymns and praising God for bringing me the biggest, scariest looking angel ever. I saw deer – both alive and dead – on the drive, but because of Roy’s advice, I didn’t hit any of them.
Little did I know there were more miracles to come that night.
I kept telling myself that all would be well. Our party of four had come in two cars, so I could stay and take care of John’s car while the others drove him back. I’d taken rides in a tow truck before, but always in my hometown, where I knew where to go and what to do. Even there, not all the drivers had been pleasant men. One had been downright snarly, nasty. I hoped I wouldn’t get someone like that again, especially here, where I didn’t know my way around.
The man who climbed down from the cab of the tow truck was a big, big man: very tall and very wide. His skin was so dark that it was hard to distinguish his features. I admit that my heart lurched. By the dim overhead light I read the name embroidered on his shirt. Roy. I smiled and thanked Roy for coming. Roy smiled back, and with that smile and a few gentle words, all my fears evaporated.
Several people came out of the restaurant as Roy attached chains to the underside of the car. One of them, obviously drunk, shouted racist and disparaging things. Roy either didn’t hear or ignored the man. Several people offered to give me a ride. One couple told me it wasn’t safe for a white woman to ride in a tow truck with a black driver. I assured them I didn’t need their help, clambered into the cab, and off we went.
Talking with Roy was easy. I told him that I was a teacher, and he shared that his son had dyslexia. We discussed education, parenting strategies, and how hard it was to find the right school for a boy with special needs. Roy praised God for giving him a wife who was patient and level headed. He called his son, a 14-year-old freshman football player, a big, scary-looking kid who was really a teddy bear. It was clear that this man cared deeply about his God and his family, and that the son took after the father.
At the dealership, Roy helped me fill out the information on the envelope for the nighttime key drop. I asked for the number for the local taxi service, but he insisted on driving me back to the hotel himself. As we pulled up, he told me that I could put my feet up and rest: my night of troubles was over.
I told him I had no time to relax. My husband’s schedule had cleared, and he was able to make it to graduation. I was going to grab a cup of coffee, then make the hour and a half drive to the Atlanta airport to meet him when he landed at 1 am. Roy’s smile faded. He warned me to drive in the left lane because deer came out at night. He also told me which exits were safe for a woman alone at night and which were not.
And then we prayed together. Roy asked the Lord to protect me on my drive, and I asked for guidance for Roy’s son’s reading problems. Roy gave me his number and made me promise that I’d call the next day. He wanted to make sure I made it back safely, and he offered to tow my son’s car to another mechanic if the dealership’s estimate was too high.
I drove all the way to Atlanta singing hymns and praising God for bringing me the biggest, scariest looking angel ever. I saw deer – both alive and dead – on the drive, but because of Roy’s advice, I didn’t hit any of them.
Little did I know there were more miracles to come that night.
