On a cold December morning in 1956, a thirteen-year-old boy named, David, huddled close to his mother aboard an elevated train bound for Manhattan. Just one week before, they had left their difficult life in Hungary to start anew in America, in a place called Brooklyn.

David settled into the rattle of the train and pressed his cheek against the cool of the window, marveling at the towering buildings. “Good morning,” said an elderly gentleman jolting him out of his reverie. The man stood before him in a long woolen coat and imposing fur hat. David’s eyes drank in every inch of his elegant demeanor. He liked the warm gaze of his eyes most of all.

“Are you new to this country?” The distinguished stranger directed his question to David’s father. “ Only one week ago we come,” he answered. The stranger leaned over, making sure David felt included as he spoke to his parents. “When I came to America it was in the late 1800s. I was a little boy like you.” His eyes latched onto David’s open gaze. “Back then, I rode on a trolley car. An old man, about my age, came over to me. He said that he also immigrated to the United States when he was a little boy. He explained to me that back then he had not a penny to his name. Then the same old man held out a silver dollar and placed it in my hand, saying: “Here, my boy, this coin brought me great luck in my life. I’m now passing it on to you and hope it will bring you great luck, as it did for me.”

The stranger leaned his face close to David’s and scooped a silver dollar out from his pocket. He opened David’s hand and placed the silver dollar firmly on his palm. David closed his hand and held the coin tightly. The next day, David examined the coin against the morning sunlight seeping through his window. “This is no ordinary coin,” he thought. “It dates all the way back to the 1800s! Yet, it shines like one freshly minted.”

Over fifty years have passed since that memorable train ride. The small, frightened immigrant boy has grown into a distinguished, older gentleman. Happily married, David and his wife raised four children, all of whom have gone on to raise families of their own.

David keeps the precious, silver coin with him always. “One day,” he told his wife, “when I am older, I’m going to look for some young boy, clutching onto his mother’s coat, gripped by the gnawing fear of living among strangers in a strange country. I’ll look for that scared little boy and reassure him, as I had been, that the life ahead of him will bring fulfillment and joy.”

Sometimes a stranger is more than just another person to us. He or she may be fulfilling God’s purpose for us as an angel in disguise. God’s ministering angels are all around us, and they minister to us in marvelous and unexpected ways as David, the frightened, little boy, discovered when he first came to America. America is an immigrant country. Our ancestors may have got here on different ships, but now we’re all in the same boat. There are many immigrants in our country today who live in the shadows for fear of being rejected and possibly deported from this country. How do you treat them? Do you see them as children of God in need of His mercy?

Take to heart the words of scripture: “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” ( Hebrews 13 : 2 )

—Story provided by Judith Leventhal, David’s cousin.