ANGELS ALL AROUND ME

 In September 1960, I woke up one morning
with six hungry babies and just 75 cents in my
pocket. Their father was gone. The boys ranged from
three months to seven years; their sister was two.
Their Dad had never been much more than a
presence they feared. Whenever they heard his
tires crunch on the gravel driveway they would
scramble to hide under their beds. He did manage
to leave 15 dollars a week to buy groceries. Now
that he had decided to leave, there would be no
more beatings, but no food either.

 If there was a welfare system in effect in southern
Indiana at that time, I certainly knew nothing about it.
I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand new and
then put on my best homemade dress. I loaded
them into the rusty old 51 Chevy and drove off to find
a job. The seven of us went to every factory, store
and restaurant in our small town. No luck.The kids
stayed, crammed into the car and tried to be quiet
while I tried to convince whomever would listen that I
was willing to learn or do anything. I had to have a
job. Still no luck. The last place we went to, just a few
miles out of town, was an old Root Beer Barrel
drive-in that had been converted to a truck stop. It was
called the Big Wheel.

An old lady named Granny owned the place and she
peeked out of the window from time to time at all those kids.
She needed someone on the graveyard shift, 11 at
night until seven in the morning. She paid 65 cents an hour
and I could start that night. I raced home and called the
teenager down the street that baby-sat for people. I
bargained with her to come and sleep on my sofa for
a dollar a night. She could arrive with her pajamas on and the
kids would already be asleep. This seemed like a
good arrangement to her, so we made a deal. That
night when the little ones and I knelt to say
our prayers we all thanked God for finding Mommy a job.

And so I started at the Big Wheel. When I got home
in the mornings I woke the baby-sitter up and sent her
home with one dollar of my tip money-fully half of what I
averaged every night. As the weeks went by, heating
bills added another strain to my meager wage.

The tires on the old Chevy had the consistency of
penny balloons and began to leak. I had to fill them
with air on the way to work and again every morning before
I could go home. One bleak fall morning, I dragged
myself to the car to go home and found four tires in the back
seat. New tires! There was no note, no nothing, just
those beautiful brand new tires. Had angels taken up
residence in Indiana? I wondered.

I made a deal with the owner of the local service station. In
exchange for his mounting the new tires, I would clean
up his office. I remember it took me a lot longer to scrub
his floor than it did for him to do the tires. I was now working
six nights instead of five and it still wasn't enough.
Christmas was coming and I knew there would be no
money for toys for the kids. I found a can of red paint and started
repairing and painting some old toys. Then I hid them in
the basement so there would be something for Santa to
deliver on Christmas morning.

Clothes were a worry too. I was sewing patches on top
of patches on the boys pants and soon they would be too far
gone to repair. On Christmas Eve the  usual customers were
drinking coffee in the Big Wheel. These were the
truckers, Les, Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper named Joe.
A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the
Legion and were dropping nickels in the pinball machine. The
regulars all just sat around and talked through the wee
hours of the morning and then left to get home before
the sun came up.

 It was still dark and I couldn't see much, but there

                                              appeared to be some dark shadows in the car or
                                     was that just a trick of the night? Something certainly looked
                                         different, but it was hard to tell what. When I reached
                                      the car I peered warily into one of the side windows. Then
                                     my jaw dropped in amazement. My old battered Chevy was

  full - full to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes.

  It was still dark and I couldn't see much, but there
appeared to be some dark shadows in the car or
was that just a trick of the night? Something certainly looked
different, but it was hard to tell what. When I reached
the car I peered warily into one of the side windows. Then
my jaw dropped in amazement. My old battered Chevy was
full - full to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes.

I quickly opened the driver's side door, scrambled inside
and kneeled in the front facing the back seat. Reaching back,
I pulled off the lid of the top box. Inside was a whole
case of little blue jeans, sizes 2-10! I looked inside another
box: It was full of shirts to go with the jeans. Then I peeked
inside some of the other boxes: There were candy and
nuts and bananas and bags of groceries. There was
an enormous ham for baking, and canned vegetables and
potatoes. There was pudding and Jell-O and cookies,
pie filling and flour.

There was a whole bag of laundry supplies and cleaning
items. And there were five toy trucks and one beautiful
little doll. As I drove back through empty  streets as the
sun slowly rose on the most amazing Christmas Day of
my life, I was sobbing with gratitude. And I will never forget
the joy on the faces of my little ones that precious morning.
Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long-ago December.
And they all hung out at the Big Wheel truck stop.

 I believe in angels! They live next door, around the corner,

work in your office, patrol your neighborhood, call you at

midnight to hear you laugh and listen to you cry, teach your

children, and you see them everyday without even knowing it!

Author Unknown

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