An angel with ski poles?

One of the things Ken and I love to do when we go to NM is hike. Each year we have found someplace new and exciting to discover as a family and we all really enjoy it. So this year, in spite of sick children, we decided to continue the tradition and chose to visit Dripping Springs. With water bottles and baby carrier in hand we set off to find the trail. When we got there, 3yo was already crying and whining about sore legs and no energy. He was the sickest of the bunch, and unbeknownst to me was battling a stomach bug that had not quite made itself known on top of the flu he was fighting. 1yo was also crying and whining-so he went right into the carrier. But he wanted Ken to carry him, and I needed Ken to carry the heavier 3yo, so 1yo was not happy for most of the hike. Then 6yo was also feeling under the weather...are you getting the picture? 3 mostly unhappy young children in the hot sun trying to climb a hill on a trail made of very soft gravel-kind of like sand, only lumpier--very hard to walk in...takes you 3 steps to actually move the distance of 2. Step, slip, step, slip....Needless to say I was really questioning my sanity and the wisdom of continuing to the top. I finally decided I should head back down with the three youngest and told Ken I was giving up...to which he declared, "We will persevere!" So on we walked. At this point Ken was carrying 6yo, I had 3yo in the carrier on my back, and 13yo had 1yo. And I began to cry. And pray. This whole experience on the trail felt so much like my life right now. Hard going. Young children needing much care. Fatigue and discouragement threatening to overwhelm me. And as I was telling this to the Lord, I looked up and saw an elderly gentleman coming down the hill. I saw him walk by Ken, but was too far away to hear if he said anything. He looked like he was wearing a park ranger uniform, and he was carrying ski poles....in the desert...with no skis. Maybe he uses them as walking sticks, I thought. He must have been close to 80 years old. I was a little afraid he might tell us it was too late in the day for us to continue and we should head back down now. Okay, part of me would have been relieved had he said that, but it would feel like defeat and deep down it was important to me to finish this hike, so when he stopped to say something to me I was holding my breath. He said, " You sure don't let young children slow you down!" We chatted about family and hiking for a few seconds, and he wished me good day and continued down the hill. I continued walking up the hill, but with a little more strength in my step, and hope and faith welled up in me. I thanked the Lord out loud for this obvious answer to my cry of despair. Through the words of this ski-pole toting park ranger God whispered in my ear, "You're doing just fine. Don't give up. Keep putting one foot in front of the other. You're going to make it, and you're bringing your kids with you!" Words of life for my weary soul, with meaning that went far beyond my need to finish this hike. We reached the top, enjoyed investigating the ruins of buildings from the 1800's, and happily started our trek down the hill, satisfied by our accomplishment and relieved that the hardest part was over. I shared with Ken what the gentleman had said to me, and how it was such a direct answer within seconds of my cry to God. With tears in his eyes he shared with me what the man had said to him. "You carry a heavy load." The truth of those words is impossible to fully express. An affirmation of the immense responsibility Ken carries day after day, and a reminder that God wants him to exchange that heavy load for his lighter and easier one. I know that man was sent there to say those words to us at this particular time in our lives. Ken thinks he was an angel. I think so, too. ;>)