We stood outside the suburban Chicago motel, my wife and I, in our early sixties, waiting for our cab. To our left was a couple in their thirties, who, I discovered were also waiting for a cab.

I eyed them suspiciously, and asked what cab company they had called. They didn't know. Well, after all Ann and I had been through the last 24 hours, "these people," were not going to get OUR cab!

We had been up in the middle of the night before last, driven three hours to the Seattle Airport, waited two hours for our takeoff, and then had had a surprisingly smooth, on-time flight to Chicago's O'Hara Airport.

It was a clear and beautiful late afternoon when we had arrived, and the thought of not making it home to Columbus, Ohio, did not enter our minds. However, as the hours passed, and delays mounted, we became more concerned. Thunder storms were reported in surrounding states.

Around 8 am, the storms arrived at O'Hara; with heavy rain, thunder, and awful flashes of lightning. The airport ground crews were called in, and then all flights cancelled. The airport was shut down for the night.

A rushed call to get a motel not far away; the scramble to the area of waiting for the motel shuttles followed. Water was leaking from the airport ceiling, walls, and floor! Outside, the road were flooded as hundreds impatiently waited for their hotel shuttle.

Finally, after more an hour, our shuttle arrived. We rushed to squeeze in, soaked by the downpour. I forgot to let my Ann in, and she had to squeeze in; the last one to get aboard. More than an hour followed, as our nervous driver plowed through the flooded streets and intersections. Cars were seen floating in the water, police cars closing roads.

Soon after our cab began its journey to O'Hara, the driver turned around and in a heavy accent said, "You'll have to excuse me, this is only my second day on the job." "Oh no!" We thought, now what? Twice he had to turn around and go back in the opposite direction. The time for our flight was creeping closer. He kept checking his map. In desperation, and even with some humor, I pointed to the sky and the direction incoming flights were taking.

Well, we arrived at our terminal, and I mentioned I would need to pay by credit card. The driver had a puzzled look. The "stranger" and his wife then interrupted with, "We'll take care of it, you're going to be late." They knew that it take too long for the driver to process our card.

We rushed out of the cab, with a "God bless you," and hurried to our distant gate; arriving as passengers were boarding. It was only hours later that we turned to each other and realized those strangers had been angels in our midst.