I was a bright and shining 16-year-old emboldened with a bright and shining new driver’s license and a car I purchased with my own summers wages. As a sophomore in high school I no longer needed to bum rides, I could drive all by myself.
One morning, as the bright sun streamed through my windshield, I was turning into the high school parking lot, only to ram into the front of a vista cruiser station wagon. My chest hit the steering wheel, and because seat belts were not issued with cars at the time, I was launched through the glass of the windshield and onto the hood of my now obliterated Volkswagen Beetle. The station wagon driver was a shocked mother who had just dropped off her son at school, and she expected the worst. But by an incredible miracle, not a scratch was on me.
Not a scratch!
It was as if the angel of the Lord deflected all the shards of glass away from me and onto the hood of the car and surrounding area. Perplexed, the relieved mother exclaimed, “What were you thinking turning in front of me, I could have killed you!” Looking directly into the sunrise I couldn’t see her vehicle. Causing a traffic jam, leering students and horrified parents watched as we exchanged insurance information and waited for the police to come write out a report. Imagine the scene; early part of the new school year, I had my own car and I thought I had freedom! Instead, I had a lump on my forehead, a bruise in the middle of my chest, a destroyed car, and extreme humiliation. It was like being in a fishbowl!
They pulled what was left of my car to the sidewalk while I went inside to call my parents. I went into the attendance office and asked to use the phone. The staff there said students were not allowed to use the office phone. The adrenaline was beginning to ebb in my system and I was starting to feel the effects of the substantial concussion my brain had endured. Bewildered, I went down to the locker room where I knew there was a phone in the Physical Education office. I asked Mr. Meisner, the baseball coach if I could use the phone.
“No problem. Sorry about your car,” he said as he watched me fumbling trying to dial the numbers.
After several tries, I could not reach either of my parents. Young people reading this will think I was raised in the dark ages, but no one took a photo of the car with their phone. It took the police a while to get to the scene because no one called it in from their mobile phones. This was 1972! I finally got a hold of my Dad’s brother who lived in our little town of Arvada, Colorado. He said he would be right over. I passed out in the locker room next to the office before he arrived. To this day I don’t remember how I got to the hospital nor ultimately back home.
This was the first of six near-death experiences I’ve had in my life; that I’m aware of anyway. Makes me wonder if there are, in fact, angels. Angels assigned to each of us; intervening according to Heaven’s design. I personally believe there must be. What do you believe?
Do you have an angel assigned to you? What’s their name? Do you believe there could be, and you never knew it?