On December 25th, Christmas Day, 1991, my parents and I were traveling home to Phoenix from visiting relatives for the Holidays in California. I was 6 years old and was not wearing a seat belt. All of a sudden, a U Haul slammed into us going about 70 mph on the freeway near Santa Ana. The U Haul hit right where I was sitting. I remember flying to the other side of the back of our pickup and my head busting out the window. Then everything went black. I later learned that we flipped over off that freeway, rolled down an embankment across another freeway and landed airborne just off the road. My mother and I were thrown out of the pickup during the rolling and I landed on the shoulder.
When my parents and paramedics found me, I was laying in a pool of my own blood, my eyes glazed over like a dead person's. I was rushed to the hospital and learned that I suffered severe head trauma; a multiple skull fracture and a skull puncture to the brain. I also broke my right wrist. Surgery was done immediately as the surgeons rushed to save me. I had to have a blood transfusion from losing so much blood and I had to be put on life support because I could not breathe on my own. The doctors told my parents that they did not believe I was going to make it and even if I did, that I would suffer brain damage, paralysis, disabilities and a host of other problems. They said I would probably be brain dead as well.
My parents called our church and our relatives' churches and asked them all to pray for me.
The next thing I remember after my head busting out the window was waking up after surgery. I woke to see my bed surrounded by lots of people, on both sides and at the end of my bed, all just looking at me with peaceful concern. Some of them were dressed all in white garb and so I assumed they were doctors. I realized that my dad was to my left, and asked him if this was a dream, or was it real? It was hard to talk because I had a tube going down my throat. He choked back tears as he explained to me that no, this was not a dream and that is was very, very real.
I must have fallen asleep after that because I do not immediately remember what happened next. I was in the hospital only nine days as I made an extraordinary and faster than expected recovery. My dad was with me the whole time as my mother was kept in another room. So this was a very special experience that he and I shared together and so it was no wonder that every Christmas we talked about the accident since Christmas Day was the anniversary.
One Christmas, about 20 years later, I was in CO talking to my dad on the phone in TN. We were amazed that it had already been 20 years and we marveled at how the years had flown. We talked about the miracle of it, how God had certainly had His hand upon us. (By the way, I suffered NO permanent brain damage, or any of the other problems they said I'd have if I survived. I came out of the accident and spent my years in school as an A+ student and was even put in accelerated classes for advanced kids.)
The thought came to me to ask my dad who all those people were around my bed when I awoke out of surgery. I had just recently begun to really get to know my relatives and wanted to know which ones of them had visited me? I joked that I wanted to see who “really cared.” (The only relative I remember visiting me was my grandfather, but not on the same day I came out of surgery. I was not close with my mom's side of the family, whom we were visiting that Christmas.) As I expected my dad to answer something like, “Well, it was your aunt so-and-so and your cousin you-know-who,” he shocked me by saying, “Sarah, what people?” I replied, “Oh, dad, you know, all those people who were standing around my bed when I awoke out of surgery, you know, when I asked you if the whole thing was a dream or not.”
My dad said, “Honey I am sorry to tell you this, but when you asked me that, there was only me and one nurse in your room.”
I didn't know what to think. All these years I had just assumed that my dad had seen all those people, because I had seen them, so surely he knew they were there! I said, “But dad-there were a whole bunch pf people, surrounding my bed on all sides and at the bottom.” My dad said, “No, honey, I'm sorry, but there were no people.”
Today, I now know that those people were my guardian angels, perhaps relatives who had passed on before I was born, and maybe even friends and loved ones from a past life. I also believe that the ones in white garb, whom I had thought were doctors, were healing angels and I believe that they were all there to either 1) See me through my surgery or 2) Welcome me Home if I didn't make it.
I had many churches across America praying me for me and I know that the angels came in response to those prayers. I also know that, when it is my final time to go Home, I will see my “Angel Entourage” again!
This is my story
Feeling or being rude
Crying
This is gonna be a long story
