Proof The Bible Is True

Passengers milled around the platform at Chicago’s Dearborn Train Station. My mother pressed a few dollar bills into my hand.

 

“Your aunt and uncle will meet you at the train station in Los Angeles,” she said. She handed the conductor another bill. “Look after my little girl.”

 

It was 1932, and even at seven years old I knew enough about the Depression to sense the weight of the few dollars my mother had somehow managed to scrape together. Dad had died two years before, and Mom worked long hours as a secretary to support my sister and me.

 

When she could, she sent us to live with relatives. But this was the first time I would be traveling alone. I put on a brave face for Mom.

 

She kissed me good-bye one last time as the train hissed and gave me a boost into the Pullman car. The inside was enormous, and I was instantly swallowed up by the crowd of strangers. I didn’t know where to go or what to do. Angel of God, I prayed, be at my side.

 

Read More: Traveling First Class with an Angelic Companion – Guideposts