An angel passed by

I have had encounters with angels. How come? That's exactly what I'm wondering — why?
    The first encounter I remember was when I came from Cuba to Miami, Fla., as a political refugee. After a year of inconvenience waiting for my son's permit and mine to leave the island, he finally left through what was called the "Peter Pan Operation" on one of the flights, which added up to 14,000 Cuban children, whose parents worried about a new law in Cuba changing the parents’ rights to the communist government.
    We all tried, of course, to take the kids  off the island before the government had rights over them. That was the previously mentioned operation. Well, my son left on September 23rd, and I couldn't until December the 10th. On my arrival, my son, like hundreds of other children, were in a nicely equipped refuge, but I had to devote two days to the paperwork in order to take him with me.
    The day before, I had to comply with checking out at the FBI, the Immigration Department and the Welfare Department. At the end of the day, on checking on Welfare, an employee asked me for my address. I replied that I didn't have one because I needed my check in order to rent a place, and she said, "But you won't receive your check until we have your address to mail it to you.” When I insisted, she just called, "Next person.”
    I left that office and stood outside without knowing what to do. I felt lost. Suddenly, a voice asked me in Spanish, "What's wrong with you? You have a big problem, don't you?" I told her briefly that if I didn't have an address, they couldn't send my welfare check. That meant I wasn't able to rent a place because I didn't have a nickel — I would say I didn't own a nickel.
    That lady told me she had an efficiency rented for a month in Miami, but she was leaving the  next day for New York, so she wasn't using two weeks’ rent. She wrote on a piece of paper the address and told me to go back to the office and let the Welfare Department know my new address. I did that, took my sack (all that the Cuban government permitted us to bring to the U.S.) and went to my new address. I haven't seen the lady again in my life.
    I don't know her name or any place I can communicate with her. And here is my question: Who was she? An angel?
    Then, already living in Dodge City... and now, a little joke. My husband was teaching at St. Mary of the Plains College, and Sister Grace, Sergio and I were having lunch — chicken, by the way — at the school cafeteria. Suddenly we stopped talking, and I commented that there is a saying in Spanish when all of a sudden people stop talking that means "An angel just passed by,” and Sister Grace said "Talking about angels, let me help myself with another wing." A different, but still the same, subject and story.
    Yes, right after I got an address, I went and picked up my son. We lived in the efficiency until I got a job and could afford an apartment. Today my son and his wife owns a condo in San Marcos, California. And I have lived at the same house — our first property in the United States — for 25 years.
    Two different stories, one subject and a happy ending.