When I called the hospital, the woman had already delivered a healthy baby girl. Two days later, dressed in my civilian clothes, I visited the new mom in the hospital. She didn’t recognize me at first. “My name is Stan,” I said, “Stan Kid.” Her face brightened.”They told me what you did” she said. “I can never thank you enough. You saved our lives.”

She had hit a patch of black ice and skidded off the highway. Her door was pinned closed when she hit the tree and the other wouldn’t open from the inside. The car was dead, so she couldn’t use the lights or heater or roll down the electric windows. She was trapped.”I blew the horn for hours,” she said, “and then the first contractions came. I just lay there praying God would send an angel to rescue me.”

I thought of my decision not to turn off at my usual exit. And then the command to stop right at the spot where she went over. “He was listening,” I said. “But God didn’t send you an angel. Just a cop.” She smiled at that and asked me if I’d like to see her baby. We went down to the nursery together, and she introduced me to her beautiful, bright-eyed little girl. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said, “but I named her after you.”

I stared at her in astonishment. A girl called Stan? “No, not Stan,” she said. “Angela, for my angel of a cop. “Maybe she had a point. When I find myself in the right place at the right time it’s because God put me there. — Beliefnet.com (Concluded)