by Amy Newmark
I am not sure what happened next, but I felt us climbing the tree trunk with our front wheels and then jerking to the left very hard. So much was going through my mind. Were we going to roll the car or land on our roof? Would we survive? It was all very crazy and it happened in seconds, but it appeared to be happening in slow motion.
Richard grabbed me and I grabbed onto him, so we were both leaning into the middle of the front seat together. Just as we were leaning in, the windows broke on either side of us. We then violently and miraculously landed on all four wheels. The front window then shattered all over us from the force. Fortunately, we had on winter coats, hats and gloves, but our faces were still exposed. After checking ourselves quickly, we didn’t find a single scratch, although we were both shaken and traumatized from our very close call.
We just sat for a couple of minutes to collect ourselves. We were shaking and I was in shock. I guess someone must have called the police, as they soon arrived. The officers looked around at our car and wondered how we survived being in a car with that much damage. They noticed the fire hydrant on the left and the huge old oak tree on the right and commented that it was impossible for a car to pass through the small space between them. We said we knew that and that is why we huddled in the middle of the car in case both sides of the car were sheered off. Our side windows certainly did shatter to pieces and our doors were smashed in on both sides.
The police officers saw bark missing from the tree trunk and also noticed a red paint streak along our roof from the front to the back. One officer pointed out that it matched the colour of the fire hydrant. Our roof must have scratched up against the hydrant when our vehicle was shooting by on its side, with two wheels in the air. We were so lucky that we landed upright on all four wheels instead of on the roof or side of the car.
Since we were only a few blocks from David’s house, we limped our car over there (amazingly it still drove slowly) on that snowy cold night, with all of the cold air coming through our broken windows. We just wanted to get to the closest home and pretty much collapse. We were immediately so thankful to God that we were alive and not hurt in any obvious way.
David and Francine opened their front door to find us getting out of a very battered vehicle. They were shocked at the sight of our car and could not believe we survived.
I tried to explain to them what happened, and could not really explain why we were not hurt given what we had just been through. I had seen that tree coming right at us, and for a moment I thought our lives were over. Sharing the story made me realize how lucky we were to survive and I thanked God over and over for taking care of us.
On the Monday after that awful Saturday night, Richard, a family physician, went to work at his medical office. One of his patients who made crafts of all kinds and had a beautiful store in a neighbouring town came in that day. She said that she did not know why, but a strong feeling had prompted her to bring Richard two white guardian angels to place on our Christmas tree for the upcoming holidays.
When Richard came through the front door of our house that evening, he pulled out those two guardian angels from inside some white tissue. He told me what his patient said and I cried tears of joy, thankfulness and gratitude. We did not say a word at that special moment, because we both knew! We had been saved by our guardian angels because it was not our time. And this gift of two beautiful angels from a patient who knew nothing of our accident was a sign that we are never alone in this world. I had screamed “Oh God, help us!” and He had. It was not our time.
~Karen Vincent Zizzo
The Green Signal
The magnitude of life is overwhelming. Angels are here to help us take it peace by peace.
~Levende Waters
It was an uphill walk as I pushed the pram along in a daze. I blinked with sheer exhaustion. I couldn’t remember when I had last enjoyed a whole night’s sleep. It was so strange that it was deemed normal for new mums of small babies to have sleepless nights. I had lost count of the number of times I had been told by well-meaning people that these were the golden days of my life and I should be grateful for them. Feeling tired all the time didn’t leave any space for feeling grateful. What was wrong with me?
My baby was asleep in the pram and I glanced down to see if the bags of vegetables and sundry groceries were secure. I hoped I hadn’t forgotten anything. I couldn’t go through this uphill climb again, twice in the same day.
It was getting windy again and I could feel sharp droplets of rain as I pushed my hair off my face impatiently. I struggled to pull the rain cover back on the pram, as the gusts of wind were making it tougher. I knelt down to secure the flap of the rain cover. I peered through the hazy plastic of the shield and saw that he was still asleep, his fists tightly closed. I felt an aching tenderness for him and tears stung my eyes. I brushed them away, feeling angry with myself. A flap pulled off as a sharp wind picked up again. I grabbed the hook of the flap and fastened it quickly. It would never do to let the rain go into the pram. He was just recovering from a nasty cold and cough; it wouldn’t do at all if he caught it again.
Satisfied that the rain cover stayed, I straightened up and resumed pushing the pram along the uphill footpath. There was a couple walking ahead who stopped at the pedestrian signal. I stopped and rubbed my eyes in confusion. I definitely needed a cup of hot tea when I reached home. I didn’t think I would clear up the mess in the living room today. If he continued sleeping, maybe I could try to catch a quick nap. I wished I could just sleep for a whole day, maybe two days, maybe forever . . . I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“You can cross now, dear. The signal has turned green.”
I blinked and turned to see an elderly lady smiling at me. Yes, the signal had turned green and was now turning red again. I had been lost in thought and missed it. I could see the couple ahead in the distance, they had crossed on time. I felt close to tears. This was definitely an overreaction. What was wrong with me? Was I losing my mind slowly?
I felt the lady’s gaze on me as I turned back to her, feeling weary and lost. She was clad in a warm lime green duffel coat, a woollen hat covering her grey hair, her kind eyes crinkling at the corners as she stared at me, questioningly. She gazed intently at me and then looked at the pram.
“Lovely baby you have there,” she said, smiling. Her voice was cool and calm like a softly flowing river. I grinned back faintly. Just as I was about to thank her and start walking again, she nodded her head and said very gently, “It will all get better. I know how tough it can be. I have been there. Believe me, it all gets better. Just hang in there, love.”
And with that, she smiled at me once again and walked off. I stood still, staring after her. The wind lessened. A kind of calm stillness took its place.
It was like a great weight had just been lifted from my shoulders. I felt something like . . . dare I call it hope? I began to cross the road with my pram as the signal turned green. “You can cross now. The signal has turned green.” Her words echoed in my mind. I realised their significance now.
It was like she knew. She had read my mind and knew my despair. It was like an angel stepping in and holding my hand. Just in time.
Sometimes that is all it really takes. In life’s daily paths, we suddenly come across a kind word from someone who understands. I believe angels connect to us through real people, right on this earth, who are different from others in the most important way . . . they possess kindness and empathy. They see beyond themselves and care enough to stop and help.
My angel turned out to be right. It did get better. I had postnatal depression, which slowly wore off. Life returned to normal. I began to live again, cherishing the joy of being a mum to two such lovely kids. I never forgot my angel. She created the turning point. She helped me find the ray of hope at a time when all I could see was the endless dark tunnel. When all else fails, when we feel we are at the rock bottom level of anguish, I believe our lives can get touched by angels. A miracle can happen. The signal can turn gre
en after all.
~Roopa Banerjee
Reflections of Hope in the Snowstorm
It only takes a thought and your angels will be there . . . for although you may not see them, you’re always in their care.
~Author Unknown
I was homesick. My husband, Keith, was attending Utah State University in Logan, Utah. We lived eight hundred miles away from my parents and family back home in Northern California. We couldn’t afford to go home for Christmas. We would just stay home in Hyrum, and have a simple Christmas with our baby, Ann.
Then a most unexpected gift arrived in a Christmas card: enough money for gas for the eight-hundred-mile drive home. We were so excited. Keith took time off from his part-time job and we packed the car. We had family prayer, asking humbly for safety and good traveling conditions.
We drove all day through Nevada, over the Sierras, to the west coast of California. Everything went well and we finally drove up the familiar driveway, honking the horn to signal our arrival. My family rushed out to greet us, welcoming us with love and Christmas cheer.
We celebrated Christmas in my childhood home, all of us together again for the first time in three years. My family rejoiced when we announced that we were expecting our second child in the spring.
All too soon, the time came for us to return to Utah. My parents gave us some money for gas. With tears and hugs, we started on our way. Hoping to make good time, we drove steadily through the day.
Toward evening, we arrived in Wendover, on the border between Nevada and Utah. Snow flurries swirled around the car. We stopped just long enough to fuel up the car. With no credit card and very little cash, we did not even consider staying overnight in a motel.
If the road and weather conditions were good, we had about two hours of driving to get to Salt Lake City. We thought if we could just make it to Keith’s parents’ home in nearby Bountiful that night, we could rest. Then we could go on to Hyrum in the morning, and he would make it to work on time.
We drove into the darkening night. Frantic flurries of snow swirled wildly about the car. Keith was having trouble seeing the road, as the headlights seemed dim. He pulled over, and got out to brush the snow away from them.
Then he climbed back into the driver’s seat and told me the bad news. “We have only one headlight.” A simple statement, but loaded with dread.
With another heartfelt prayer for safety and protection, we felt we had no choice but to head slowly out onto the nearly deserted freeway. Our car bravely slogged through the snowy darkness. We desperately tried to keep our eyes on the white line in the road, but it was vanishing quickly in the accumulating snow. We seemed to be all alone on that dark stretch of freeway. There was no traffic in either direction, and the visibility was near zero.
We knew that our parents were praying us safely through the night. We prayed too, for traction and safety.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a semi-truck appeared, gaining quickly upon us. It splattered a spray of snow onto our windshield as it passed. Then it pulled into our lane, directly in front of our car. Our meager headlight reflected off the shiny silver doors on the back of the truck.
The driver could have sped ahead. Instead, he stayed right with us, lighting our way. The steady flurry of relentless snowflakes dashed against our windshield. The wipers could barely keep them brushed away. The white line of the road was no longer visible. We cautiously crept along, following the truck.
In those anxiety-filled moments, I felt our unborn baby kick for the first time! The miracle of new life growing within me filled us with wonder. We felt that there were angels protecting us that night, and there was a curious peace in our hearts.
Hours later, we reached the welcome streetlights and plowed roads of Salt Lake City. To signal our gratitude, Keith blinked our one headlight at the semi-truck driver in front of us. This man had stayed with us for more than 120 miles on that drive between Wendover and Salt Lake City. Our one headlight had reflected off the back of his truck as he had lighted our way in the dark night.
It turned out that this storm deposited eighteen inches of snow in twenty-four hours, closing the Salt Lake City airport for twenty hours. But we had traveled safely through the massive storm. We offered a heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving for this miracle.
As I gratefully closed my eyes at last that night, the images of the steadily blowing snow drifted before them. More importantly, though, my mind’s eye fixed upon the reflection of the unseen angels and the semi-truck driver who had stayed with us, giving us hope through the darkest hours of that snow-filled night.
~Valaree Terribilini Brough
Angel with a Silver Belt Buckle
The wings of angels are often found on the backs of the least likely people.
~Eric Honeycutt
I was riding in a car full of giggling, gossiping girls. It was a scorching hot July morning, the kind where the air sits on you like a heavy blanket. My friend’s Oldsmobile was wheezing down the highway as usual, but the oppressive heat made “Gurtie the car” struggle. We had just crossed the border from Illinois into Wisconsin. Gurtie was giving the “take me out Coach” signal, but we were distracted by all the signs for cheese. Gurtie did not want to go on our annual canoe trip this year. She didn’t care that we had been planning it since January. She decided to give up the fight.
We first lost control of the ability to accelerate and knew we had to pull over. It was one of those moments when time seemed to slow.
Nicole was able to pull the car over to the right shoulder before it totally died. All five girls piled out of the car to take a look under the hood. It was laughable, almost like it was scripted. You couldn’t get a better scene of people pretending to know what they were doing. Nicole, familiar with Gurtie’s temperament, grabbed a gallon of water from the trunk—she seemed to think the car was just overheating. It was at that moment that I suddenly felt compelled to bend down and tie my shoe.
Down at that level, I glanced under the car and noticed that Gurtie was actually on fire!
Flames licked upwards from the ground and the car’s engine started to catch fire. I yelled to all of my friends, “The car is on fire!!” Nicole ran and attempted to get inside the car and move it. She thought that if she moved the car it would no longer be on fire. Kathryn grabbed Nicole’s arm, trying to persuade her that the car was in fact on fire. Jenny hadn’t moved or said one word—she froze in place watching it all unfold. And I was already way down the highway. I’d seen a lot of action movies—I wasn’t waiting for the explosion. I ran far down the highway with my friend Sandy. I actually picked her up and carried her down the highway with me.
Nicole, Kathryn and Jenny were in serious danger at this point. Flames and smoke poured out from both sides of the hood. I remember saying, “Oh my God, Oh my God, someone please help.” Not that a teenager saying “Oh my God” is anything new, they tend to say it every other sentence. But this time I was actually saying, “Oh my God, please help.”
That was when God sent an angel to take care of us. I watched the orange semi-truck pull over on the southbound shoulder. The driver jumped out of his rig and crossed the road. He jumped the median, bobbing and weaving through the northbound traffic, and delivered a fire extinguisher.
He wasn’t dressed in a superhero costume or flecked with gallant bits of gold. He wore a pair of cowboy boots and had a silver belt buckle. But he was definitely our guardian angel. God sent him to run across eight lanes of highway during the morning rush hour, and dive under the car to put out the flames.
After the fire was out, he wiped himself off and simply said. “Okay, be careful ladies.” He saw that a car in our caravan had caught up to us and that we had people to help us. He gave us a wave and then ran back across the highway. We yelled thank you to him, but I doubt he heard us.
We would later be told by the insurance company that we were indeed very lucky that the car didn’t explode and injure my friends standing next to it. God was there that day
. God sent an angel.
~Kristen Margetson
Aunt Jeanne
Don’t be dismayed at goodbyes. A farewell is necessary before you can meet again. And meeting again, after moments or lifetime, is certain for those who are friends.
~Richard Bach
Sometimes, if you’re very lucky, you’re blessed with a real-life guardian angel. For me, that angel was my Aunt Jeanne. Only ten years my senior, she was like the perfect big sister. For as long as I can remember, Aunt Jeanne was a vibrant, fun-loving, abiding presence in my life. She was my babysitter when I was a child, the person who helped me navigate the stormy seas of adolescence over tea and angel food cake, and the one who became a treasured friend as I grew into adulthood. She showed me how to put on make-up, shave my legs, and do the Locomotion. A whiz at crossword puzzles, she taught me her secrets. She nursed me through broken romances and fractured friendships, giggled with me over the latest schoolgirl gossip, and shared my frustration when things didn’t go my way. She rejoiced in my accomplishments and propped me up when I failed. Aunt Jeanne was someone I could always rely on, as constant as the North Star. And, like a star, she lit up my life with her special light.
When the phone rang one sun-drenched morning in late spring, I had no way of knowing life was about to take an unwelcome turn. I saw Aunt Jeanne’s name on the caller ID and realized that I hadn’t talked to her in a while.
“Aunt Jeanne! It’s so good to hear from you,” I said, looking forward to one of our “catching up” chats.
