What Would an Angel Do?

  "I prayed, and God sent you. You are His angels. But I can't change."
     Two missionaries faced a lady half out her mind, but sober. It was supposed to be a simple contact, but looking back, it was a tragedy of "what should we have done?"
     The line on the sidewalk marked a choice: to the liquor store, or to go home. With a little change bag in her hand, the lady was marked by the two boys who were so concerned about a battle she had already lost.
     "I know I'm addicted. Hope is gone, and I can't quit." She would retort at every attempt to turn her back home. They reminded her of her daughter, the desire to overcome addiction, heaven and hell. All these things, she said, were useless. She had already lost hope, and boy was she stubborn.
     Yet she stayed, listening to two strangers testify of Christ and love, of repentance. How long were they there? Were they late to an appointment? Was this a waste of time, or was this a battle they could win? Street conversations with Christ's representatives can get intense quickly.
     The impression came to both the missionaries: throw the money bag, and send her home. Neither one made a move.
     "This line" thought one missionary, "is one she will not cross."
     "It's wrong to throw the monetero. I'll not be impulsive. Better it is to show kindness, and let her make her choice." The other missionary said to himself.
     The internal battle stretched on. How long had they been standing there? Then one missionary suggested, "alright, we'll walk with you then." Thinking to set an appointment for later. She bought her liquor, walked back to that terrible sidewalk line, and said something that caused cold shivers for the young elders. The kind that an innocent child gets after doing something bad. "You two are angels... Thanks for trying."
      "Could we have stopped her?" The elders eyes filled with tears. The smoke had cleared. The lady was gone with her bottle. Who had won this battle?