Lord, Send the Angels

All I can do is pray. Ever feel like that? I do, often. That’s the way I felt the day of the big crash on the curve near my home. Car wrecks there had become common. I’d prayed for crying passengers and tended cuts, bruises and called police before. “Drivers aren’t sufficiently warned of this curve,” I complained.
This time the sound shook the kitchen, and I went running. A car load of high school students on their way home—the long way. A young driver, trying out his mom’s new car failed to negotiate the curve. He over-corrected himself on the wet pavement and slammed into a tree.

The young driver wandered around the road, dazed. Five girls screamed in pain, jammed into the car. Back to the phone I ran, called 911, called the church prayer chain, put hot tea in a thermos and hurried back.

“Lord, send the angels,” I cried as I ran. “Lord, send the angels.”
Cars had stopped. Someone helped one of the girls out of the vehicle. A lady comforted the crying girls. Another prayed for the one behind the driver who seemed hurt worst. Moments seemed like hours as we awaited the ambulances. Since others were around the car, I stood back and prayed. I prayed for their lives and for their salvation. And I kept praying, “Lord, send the angels.”

Guests from a nearby home brought blankets for those chilling in the Oregon rain. And finally, the ambulance and fire trucks arrived. The one girl was taken by life-flight to the university hospital. Others went to the local hospital.

Days passed before I realized the Lord had answered my cry. Angels had come in the form of people—those who prayed with and comforted the girls, those who brought blankets, and eventually the emergency medical people. Not enough could be done, though, and one girl died, a Christian girl, and the only one using a seat belt.
Shaken by the tragedy, I took around a petition for neighbors to sign asking the roads department to lower the speed limit, put in a speed bump, give better warning. I asked the high school to limit students driving to school to those who needed to drive themselves, and ban passengers in student-driven vehicles. Not much happened, though the roads department did put up an arrow, indicating the curve in the road. I’d done everything I could. Disappointment set in. What else could I do?

A girl lost her life. A family mourned. I didn’t want it ever to happen again. So this time I prayed, “Lord, send an angel. Station him on that curve. Prevent further accidents there.”

And, you know, that was many years ago, and there hasn’t been a serious accident there since, to my knowledge. Praying brings the best results of anything I can do.