Although not necessarily a religious person, I maintain a child-like faith in God. This faith was an integral part of my persona from toddler age until around age 12--and has been again from about age 27 to the present day.
The following is essentially the story of how God Himself chose to save me (on three different occasions) from certain death. Although He knows how much I appreciate these "Miracles of Intervention," documenting them here is intended to serve as "proof" of that appreciation.
I was approximately 19 years old, and driving my vehicle eastbound and down a Highway 9 hill (in the nearby Santa Cruz, California mountains), at around 11pm, along with three friends.
Speeding too fast, the front-end of my car (a 2-door sports coupe) "locked-up" on a particularly treacherous section of road. I then lost control of the vehicle, and we shot off the the edge of the hill. I braced myself for the inevitable crash that would soon occur at the far-away bottom of the slope..
A powerful, unseen force though boomeranged the car back onto the road, and I instead plowed into the side of the foothill.
The car was damaged, but my friends and I walked away from the wreckage unscathed. Shortly thereafter, a pleasant middle-aged couple--Good Samaritans, for certain--gave us a ride to the base of the road (in their newer model sports car), some 15 kilometers away, into the town of Los Gatos.
My three friends made exclamations such as "WHOAAA!" and "THAT WAS COOL!"--but I remained silent, still in awe of the invisible power that saved us. They had no clue as to how close we all came to dying that night.
During my early 40's, I slipped into an apparent coma. It was broad daylight--on a day off from work--and I was busy passing the afternoon in my Las Vegas, Nevada home office, doing leisurely work on the internet.
Suddenly, my left hand began to rise and shake--seemingly all on its own. The shaking quickly became violent and uncontrollable, and I blacked-out.
Luckily, my roommate (a man close to my age, who rented the upstairs room) was home and immediately called paramedics, who then transported me to the nearest hospital. This roommate later told me that he was made aware of my dire condition when he heard a loud bang (the sound of my body falling to the floor) and saw that I was unconscious.
FOUR DAYS LATER...a nurse held me close and repeatedly whispered, "You're at the hospital, you're OK now. You were unconscious for a few days." I felt extremely well-rested, peaceful, and somewhat "reborn." My last memory was that of my shaking hand..
No physician was ever able to explain what exactly happened to me on that sunny, dry, and otherwise peaceful afternoon. But that wasn't at all surprising: The causes of most illnesses (along with their accompanying cures) remain elusive to medical doctors of my era.
During my "blackout period," a close friend (a devout member of the Church of Latter Day Saints)--and members of his local prayer group--offered me a "Deathbed Blessing:" the LDS equivalent of having been read the Last Rites of the Roman Catholic Church, so hopeless was considered my fate.
By the next day, I considered myself to be fully recovered, and was eager to leave the hospital. My life then resumed as if the event had never occurred.
I was in my mid-40's--just a few years ago--and found myself having to traverse a rather large (about 20 meters around) patch of parking lot black ice, during a particularly cold (about -2 degrees celsius) Las Vegas winter morning. Having grown up and lived (for over 30 years) in the comparatively moderate San Jose, California area, black ice and below-freezing temperatures had never presented themselves even once during my early years.
Having no option but to walk across the frozen blacktop, I lost control of my footing, slipped, flew mid-air for a second, and fell hard--right on the back of my head. I just knew in my heart that I'd soon be dead, as I was certain that my head was cracked and that its organic, bloody debris was spread all across the icy pavement. Despite this anguish, I felt a profound sense of peace and calm.
However, there was not a drop of blood to be seen, and (after the longest two or three seconds of my life) I somehow got up, composed myself, and went about my way. A nearby dry cleaners worker saw what had occurred, and asked if I was OK. I politely nodded "yes" and proceeded to ever so slowly walk back towards my vehicle, which was parked on a nearby street.
God has chosen to save me on many other occasions, but a day has rarely passed when I didn't think about at least one of these occurrences.
It wouldn't surprise me much if one day an angel appeared to me, took my hand, and explained that my physical life ended on one of these three dreadful days: And everything that has transpired ever since has simply been the result of my lingering, wandering, and over-active imagination.