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 canceled 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 slid 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.

Author Unknown