Scripture Reading:
ACTS 27:13–26
Are not all angels ministering spirits sent to serve those who will inherit salvation?
HEBREWS 1:14
DR. DEIDRE GIVENS WAS EXHAUSTED. After fifteen years of neurological work in Boston, the single woman had developed an extensive list of patients and an equally impressive reputation. But Deidre—who found her strength in a strong faith in God—paid a price for her success, especially on days like this.
The hospital had been overcrowded because of the cold weather that January, and the accompanying increase in illnesses. In addition to helping tend to the swarms of people, Deidre had performed several burdensome examinations and two tiring surgeries.
At home that night, Deidre had just poured herself a cup of coffee when there was a knock at the door. Not now, God. Please. I’m tired.
It was nearly nine o’clock, bitterly cold, and snow had been piling up outside. Deidre headed toward the front room. She opened the door. “Yes?” There stood a little shivering girl dressed in a tattered coat and worn-out shoes, perhaps five years old. She was crying and she turned her huge brown eyes up at Deidre.
Deidre felt her insides melt with concern for the child. She had the sweetest, purest voice that cut through Deidre’s tired body and caused her to spring into action. She grabbed her coat and her medical bag and took the little girl’s hand. Then the two headed into the storm.
Less than two city blocks away, in a section of tenement apartments, the little girl turned into a doorway and led Deidre up two flights of stairs.
“She’s in there,” the little girl said, pointing toward a bedroom at the end of a narrow hallway.
Deidre moved quickly toward the bedroom and found a woman who was very sick, nearly delirious from a high fever and close to death. A quick listen to her chest told Deidre that the woman was suffering from pneumonia and that her fever needed to be reduced if there was any chance to save her life.
For more than an hour Deidre worked over the woman, soothing her hot, dry skin with compresses and arranging for her to be transported to the nearest medical facility. Finally, when the woman’s fever began to subside, she slowly opened her eyes, blinking because of the light. Deidre continued to work tirelessly, sponging her head and trying to cool her body with wet rags.
Struggling to speak, the woman thanked the doctor for coming. “How did you ever find me?”
Deidre smiled. “Your little girl saved your life. I would never have known you were up here otherwise. Thank her. Sweet little child, braving the cold, stormy night and walking the streets until she found me.”
A look of pain and shock filled the woman’s eyes. “What are you talking about?” she asked.
Deidre was puzzled. “Your little girl,” she repeated. “She came and got me. That’s how I found you here.”
The woman shook her head and her hand flew to her mouth as if she were trying to contain a scream.
“What is it, what’s wrong?” Deidre took the woman’s hand in hers and tried to soothe her sudden panic. “Your little girl’s all right.”
“Ma’am…” Tears streamed down the woman’s face as she fought for the strength to speak. “My little girl died a month ago. She was sick for weeks and…”
Deidre stepped back, shocked by the woman’s story. “But she knocked on my door and led me here! I held her hand until she showed me where you were.”
The woman’s tears came harder and she pointed toward a closet in her cramped bedroom. “There, that’s where I keep her things since she died.”
Deidre walked slowly toward the closet. There was the coat worn by the little girl only an hour earlier hung completely dry. The same shoes sat neatly on the floor.
“These belonged to your daughter?” Deidre’s heart pounded. It wasn’t possible.
“Yes, ma’am.” The woman wiped her wet cheeks with the sleeve of her nightgown.
“The girl who led me here wore this coat and those shoes.” Her mind raced, searching for understanding. Then finally it dawned on her that the little girl had to be somewhere in the apartment. But after searching for several minutes, Deidre returned to the sick woman’s bedside. “She’s gone.”
The woman nodded, fresh tears filling her eyes. “I told you. My daughter’s dead.”
Deidre’s heart still pounded, her mind still searched for an explanation. But then it dawned on Deidre.
“It’s a miracle.” Deidre took the woman’s hand and shrugged. “I can’t think of anything else to call it.”
The woman nodded and suddenly her face broke into a smile, the tears replaced by a strange, peaceful look. “Her angel came back to help me. There is no other explanation.”
Deidre nodded, feeling the sting of tears in her own eyes. After the ambulance had taken her patient off to the hospital, she walked home slowly through the snow, pondering the impossible and wondering about life. There was so much she did not understand or know.
Years later, Deidre would tell the story about the little child who, although dead more than a month, had somehow appeared on the steps in search of help for her dying mother. And Deidre would still feel the same sense of amazement she had that cold, wintry evening. She believes with all her heart that medical technology cannot always explain the ways of life.
And to this day she believes the girl must have been an angel. The littlest one of all.
He sends from heaven and saves me, rebuking those who hotly pursue me; God sends his love and his faithfulness.
PSALM 57:3