The Research and Writings of Donna Higbee
Donna Higbee, CHT
It was a lovely spring day and I couldn’t resist the urge to get out in it, even though I was supposed to study for college exams. I knew the exams were critical but the day begged to be explored and I couldn’t resist. I was living in Pasadena, California at the time, so decided to drive to Mt. Wilson and find a little private turnout where I could enjoy the day and study at the same time. Obviously quite a few others had the same idea, and the winding road to the top of the mountain was filled with people out for a drive. When I got almost to the top, I parked off the road and walked back into the hills. With extremely steep hills on three sides of me and only the opening towards the road allowing access to this little secluded spot, I knew I had found the perfect place to stop for the day. The air was still chilly up there in the mountains, so I found a huge, warm, sunny boulder to sit on and read. My day passed too quickly but at least I had accomplished what I set out to do. After the sun had left my boulder and gone down, and little gusts of cold air were sending the message that it was time to go home, I walked back down to my car. I couldn’t believe it …the battery was dead. I thought there would be no problem flagging down someone to help me, but people just drove on by. I lifted the hood so they could see I needed help and then I waited. It was getting darker and fewer people were coming down the mountain. I was cold and getting scared at the prospect of having to sleep there all night in my car.
Just when I had given up hope of anyone else coming down the mountain, I saw an old car slowly making its way along. It slowed to a crawl, then pulled off the road alongside mine. Slowly an old man got out and came towards me to ask if I needed help. I explained the situation and he nodded and asked if I had jumper cables for the battery. I had always meant to get some cables but just had not found the time to do it; now I was sorry. When I told him that I did not, he smiled and said that it was not a problem. As I watched in amazement, he walked towards the steep side of the hill and then began climbing it like a mountain goat. I couldn’t believe my eyes — here was an elderly man climbing effortlessly up that part of the steep hill that even I wouldn’t have attempted. He got part way up, then reached down and pulled a long piece of heavy wire out of the bushes. He then retraced his steps until he was back at my car. I was instructed to get in and start the car. As I watched in silence, he held one end of the wire to my battery and put the other end of the wire on his car’s battery. I couldn’t have been more surprised when the car started right up, albeit coughing and sputtering a bit. He told me to leave immediately and not to stop for anything until I had made it all the way home. I thanked him and carefully pulled out onto the mountain road heading for home. As I looked back, he was just standing there, off to the side of the road, looking at me.
Driving home, it began to dawn on me that something very extraordinary had occurred. Many things just didn’t jive. For one thing, you can’t start a car with only one piece of wire, you need two wires (one for each of the positive and negative posts on a battery). For another thing, you can’t hold bare wires in your hands without some kind of insulation between you and the wire, such as rubber handles. He used nothing like that. And how did he know where the wire was, up there on the mountainside in the bushes? Nothing made sense, but I put it out of my mind and concentrated on just getting home.
As I pulled into Pasadena, I decided to drive to the gas station two blocks from my apartment and leave the car there. When I reached the station, the car died. No amount of coaxing would get it to start again … it was just dead. But I had arrived home and the car was safely at a gas station; now I could breathe with ease.
As the days passed and my thoughts drifted back again and again to that wonderful man, I began to realize that it couldn’t have been an ordinary man who stopped to help me. Too many things didn’t make sense. I have since come to believe that I had an encounter with an angel. I have always prayed for protection, and I think my prayer was heard and answered that day on Mt. Wilson.”