The Racer

  Messages from Messengers of Light – Part 3                             

My third (and last!) son was a very dangerous little guy.  I felt that I was saving his life daily, even before he entered the “terrible two’s.”    One day I had even called my husband at work, crying.  “I think Seth’s going to die today!  I just caught him trying to back into the laundry chute holding my biggest butcher knife!”

I was certain that God must have several guardian angels posted on this child, 24/7!

One day, the 2-year-old had escaped outside, and I heard a blood-curdling scream on the driveway.  Running out the back door, I saw that he had somehow rolled a two-wheel bicycle forward, with his little finger now stuck between the bicycle chain and the gear.  I could not roll the wheel forward nor backward to release his flattened little finger.  Screaming for anyone in the neighborhood’s help, I picked up the bike (with him and his finger attached) to try to get anyone’s attention on our short, dead-end street.  NObody seemed to hear, and Seth, the bike, and I were now hidden behind our huge pine tree in the front yard.

Suddenly, from the dead-end end of our street came the most professional bicyclist racer I’d ever seen in person.  He appeared from “no-where”, and rode right to us…the screaming woman and the screaming 2-year-old behind the big tree.  Unzipping his small, professional bag of bicycle tools, he quickly disengaged the wheel gears and released the flattened little finger.  Both Seth and I were crying . . . he with screams of pain, and me imagining my baby losing his finger.  When I looked up to thank the professional racer, he had completely disappeared.  Gone. I didn’t see him go, had no way to thank him, and could not imagine how a professional racer could be riding from the dead-end of a little one-block-long street in Little Chute, Wisconsin.  

Seth’s daddy arrived and we rushed to the ER, with his finger saved through the quick actions of a mysterious Stranger, never seen before nor since.  

Divine interventions were frequently needed in those early years of Seth’s life. . . 

(my last child!) and I definitely had a sense of Angels nearby.  (I think they must have had a rotation schedule just for Seth!)  

But for me, that professional, world-class bicyclist will always be an Angel in my book  (whether divine or not!)!

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