Here’s another coincidence that makes you really wonder if we’re not all connected to each other in some way.

When we were married in 1971, my wife Karen and I lived at 140 Elmridge Drive on the 15th floor in Toronto. 140 Elm Ridge Drive is a 20 storey block of apartments overlooking what is now the Allen Road, a four lane divided route opening out onto Eglinton Avenue.

In those days the apartments were very popular with newly married Jewish couples. There was underground parking and to gain access to the apartments the caller had to press the apartment intercom button and be “buzzed in”. It even had a shabbos elevator.

One Saturday evening, while preparing to go out with friends, Karen and I got into a heated “discussion”. There were raised voices as we each defended our position. You all know the kind of argument I’m referring to. The type of argument where facts don’t matter and in order to support the argument Karen was bringing up events from before we were married. I remember saying “why stop there? Let’s go back to before we even met.” It’s hard to argue with any woman who’s dressed only in her underwear.

Karen was putting on her make-up in the bathroom with her glasses off. I was wearing a dressing gown. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. We stopped “discussing” and looked at each other. Who could be knocking on our door on a Saturday evening? Must be a friend from the apartment block. I opened the door and what I saw made me start to laugh so hard that I couldn’t catch my breath and I thought I was going to pass out.

Standing at the door, with a broad smile, was this beautiful black “Angel” wearing a “Jesus Saves” button.

The angel looked like Butterfly McQueen in “Gone With The Wind”.  Butterfly had come to save our marriage. She was our Angel. I was overcome by the irony and humour. It was too much for me. I was rolling on the floor laughing hysterically and waving my hand trying to explain to this lady why I’m laughing and I’m trying desperately to indicate to her that it’s not her I’m laughing at. Karen, meanwhile, is squinting at me laying on the floor. She can hear me gasping for breath but she can’t do anything about it in her underwear. Tears are rolling down my face. The Angel is standing at the door. She’s laughing, Karen is laughing and neither of them know why.

Eventually I got myself under control and was able to explain to her the irony of the situation. She left confident that Jesus did in fact save.