Would you pick up a hitchhiker?
I sped by the two hitchhiking women as I left my little mountain town headed toward Reno.
And then it clicked–they were locals, ladies I had seen about town from time to time. So I stopped and put my car in reverse, watching in my rear view mirror as they jogged toward me.
They were on their way back to Reno where they now live — and had come back to town for an errand. An older, weather-worn woman and a younger woman, late 20s or early 30s–pregnant and sunburned. No wonder. They had walked half the forty-two mile distance before they had gotten rides to my town.
“Thank you,” the older woman said. “The winds were something terrible.”
They shared a large plastic bottle of sparkling water back and forth.
We made small talk about the weather. I wondered about their circumstances and reason for attempting such a trip, but I kept my questions to myself.
“You’re an angel,” the older woman said as I pulled to the curb in downtown Reno. “Thank you for picking me up again.”
“You picked me up some years ago.”
Even though I had no memory of picking anyone up before and even though mental red flags were waving about their “errand” and even though I dropped them off outside a casino, I decided our encounter was a divine one.
You just never know what form angels will take.