I believe in guardian angels.
I have had many mishaps in my life that others deem unfortunate. They won’t even begin to think about the possibility of a guardian angel. I, on the other hand, wholeheartedly believe in their existence. As a baby, I had retinoblastoma (cancer of the eye). If the surgery that saved my life had been delayed by two weeks, I wouldn’t be alive today. At the age of six, I fell onto an old-fashioned heater with metal blades and sliced my leg open from thigh to ankle. If I hadn’t twisted while I flew in the air, I would have landed on my neck, and quite possibly could have cut through my jugular. Two years ago, my horse kicked me in the chin, and I escaped with only a swollen jaw. That same year, my belief in guardian angels confirmed itself when I was in a car accident.
Late on my way to school, I lost control of my car on the gravel road. I could feel the car rock back and forth, and I knew from my science classes that the momentum of the rocking would make my car roll. I trembled, terrified, because I knew the inevitable. I knew that if my car did indeed roll that the chances of making it out of the car with no harm to myself (if I made it out at all) were slim to none. I knew in my heart that I would be just another statistic the next morning, and this thought crushed me.
As my car careened out of control, I put my life in God’s hands and I began to pray. I knew that He would hear me and help me if He could. As I finished my prayer, I counted my blessings and thought of all the wonderful people that had come into my life. I was still terrified of the fact that I could die or get seriously hurt, but a sense of peace settled over my mind at the same time. If Fate deemed it my time to go, I had no right being selfish and literally hanging on for dear life. I would be remembered, not just as a statistic, but as a person who lived and breathed and had an impact on everyone I met.
Then the impossible happened. My car stopped rocking and rolled gracefully to a complete stop. I unbuckled, rolled out of my car, and hugged myself as I cried. The pain in my body screamed at me, but nothing could compare to the mind-numbing horror as I looked at my car. How could I have not rolled my car? The tires sat on their rims dug into the gravel, I could see scratches on the side where I slid along the barbed wire fence, and parts visibly hung from the bottom of the car. Nothing that looked as bad as my car could have wrecked and not manage to roll. I couldn’t figure it out.
Then, it hit me: God had intervened. Nothing else made any sense. The car should have rolled, anyone could see that. The mechanics who later worked on my car believed that, my parents believed that, and I even believed it. So why didn’t it? Then I got to thinking of those other instances when I should’ve been hurt. Why did my doctors rush to operate two weeks early, instead of waiting? Why did I twist in the air and land on my leg instead of my neck? Why didn’t I have head trauma from the horse kicking me, instead of a hurt jaw and a memory blank?
Others tell me that I’m crazy when I tell them that I have a guardian angel watching over me. I don’t mind because they wouldn’t understand. Even my close friends cannot make the connection. “Coincidence,” they say. I don’t believe in coincidence. That doesn’t matter, though, because no one can make me stop believing. I believe in guardian angels, and no one can take that away from me.
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