Heaven's Messenger
Barbara was driving her six-year-old son, Benjamin, to
his piano
lesson.
They were late, and Barbara was beginning to think she
should have
cancelled
it.
There was always so much to do, and Barbara, a
night-duty nurse at the
local
hospital, had recently worked extra shifts. She was
tired.
The sleet storm and icy roads added to her tension.
Maybe she should
turn
the
car around.
"Mom!" Ben cried. "Look!" Just ahead a car had lost
control on a patch
of
ice. As Barbara tapped the brakes, the other car spun
wildly, rolled
over,
then crashed sideways into a telephone pole. Barbara
pulled over,
skidded to
a stop and threw open her door.
Thank goodness she was a nurse-she might be able to
help these
unfortunate
passengers. Then she paused. What about Ben? She
couldn't take him with
her-little boys shouldn't see scenes like the one she
anticipated. But
was
it safe to leave him alone? What if their car were hit
from behind?
For
a
brief moment Barbara
considered going on her way. Someone else was sure to
come along.
No!
"Ben, honey, promise me you'll stay in the car!"
"I
will, Mommy,"
he
said
as
she ran, slipping and sliding, toward the crash site.
It was worse than she'd feared. Two girls of high
school age were in
the
car.
One, the blonde on the passenger side, was dead,
killed on impact.
The
driver, however was still breathing. She was
unconscious and pinned
in
the
wreckage. Barbara quickly
applied pressure to the wound in the teenager's head
while her
practiced
eye
catalogued the other injuries. A broken leg, maybe
two, along with
probable
internal bleeding. But if help came soon, the girl
would live.
A trucker had pulled up and was calling for help on
his cellular phone.
Soon
Barbara heard the ambulance sirens. A few moments
later she surrendered
her
lonely post to rescue workers. "Good job," one said as
he examined the
driver's wounds. "You
probably saved her life, ma'am." Perhaps.
But as Barbara walked back to her car a feeling of
sadness overwhelmed
her,
especially for the family of the girl who had died.
Their lives would never be the same. Oh God, why do
such things have
to
happen?
Slowly Barbara opened her car door. What should she
tell Benjamin? He
was
staring at the crash site, his blue eyes huge. "Mom,"
he whispered,
"did
you
see it?"
"See what, Honey?" she asked.
"The angel,
Mom! He came
down
from
the sky while you were running to the car. And he
opened the door, and
he
took that girl out."
Barbara's eyes filled with tears.
"Which door,
Ben?" "The passenger side. He took the girl's hand,
and they floated up
to Heaven
together."
"What about the driver?"
Ben shrugged. "I didn't see
anyone else."
Later Barbara was able to meet the families of the
victims. They
expressed
their gratitude for the help she had provided. Barbara
was able to give
them
something more.
Ben's vision. There was no way he could have known-by
ordinary
means-who
was
in the car or what had happened to either of the
passengers. Nor could
the
passenger door have been opened; Barbara had seen it's
tangle of
immovable
steel herself. Yet Ben's account brought consolation
to a grieving
family.
Their daughter was safe in Heaven. And they would see
her again.
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