Describe a random encounter with a stranger that stuck out positively to you.

There was a time I believed I had to carry everything alone. That strength meant managing the weight of the world quietly, especially as a new mother. But one moment, tucked in the middle of an ordinary day, cracked that belief wide open and let the light in.

My daughter was six months old, her stroller my steady anchor as I navigated the maze of a crowded mall. I remember feeling proud, strong, even as we approached the steep escalator. With careful confidence, I stepped on, balancing her and the stroller, riding down with a quiet sense of victory.

But at the bottom, something went wrong. The wheels caught. The stroller jammed. And in an instant, my pride turned into panic. I felt the world tilt beneath me. We were about to fall.

That’s when it happened.

Our eyes met, mine wide with fear, his calm and unwavering. A stranger, modest in size, but filled with something greater than muscle. Without hesitation, he rushed forward and, with astonishing ease, lifted me, the stroller, and my baby, all at once.

It felt like time slowed. Like we’d stepped into some still, sacred place in the middle of the noise.

I was stunned. Grateful beyond words. I turned to thank him again, to lock eyes with the man who had just saved us. But he was gone.

No trace. No name. Just gone.

For a moment, I stood there in silence, heart pounding, soul stirred. And something inside me shifted.

It was as if God had whispered through that man’s hands: You are not alone. You have never been alone.

I think of him often, not just the way he helped, but the way he appeared in perfect timing, like grace itself had stepped in wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Was he an angel? I’ll never know for sure. But I do know this:

Some souls walk this earth as messengers. They show up in the exact moment we forget we’re held. They remind us that the divine isn’t always thunder and fire, it’s sometimes the quiet strength of a stranger who sees your fear and answers it with love.

Since that day, I’ve come to believe that we are guided, surrounded, and deeply connected, even when we can’t see it. And that maybe, just maybe, heaven sometimes walks beside us in human form, lifting us up when we forget how to stand.