77: Highway Rescue

77: Highway Rescue

From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Miracles Happen

Highway Rescue

Nurses are angels in comfortable shoes.

~Author Unknown

It was to be a girls’ weekend like none other. My daughters and I loaded the car, happily waving goodbye to my husband Barry, who’d promised to hold the fort down while we were away.

Soon, we were on I-95, leaving Virginia and headed toward sunny Florida where Mom awaited our arrival with great expectation.

We spent the first several hours sharing happy memories and singing “oldies’ at the top of our lungs. When my muscles began cramping, my older daughter, Autumn, offered to take her turn behind the wheel.

We’d just entered North Carolina so it was the perfect time to pull over and exchange places at the welcome center. Soon we were heading down I-95 once again.

Suddenly the heavens opened up, sending a torrential downpour to earth. How was anyone supposed to see in this?

“Get off at the next exit,” I begged, gripping the door handle with all my might.

Too late.

Trucks barreled by, sending us hydroplaning across several lanes of traffic. We crashed into something parked alongside the road.

I felt my chest being crushed and heard myself screaming.

“Mom,” a voice cried from somewhere, “you’ve got to get out now!”

I stumbled out the door and onto the wet ground. I could see my girls hovering over me. Amber had a bleeding gash over her eye. Autumn was crying into the cell phone begging for an ambulance.

I felt weaker and weaker as my chest continued to throb.

Out of nowhere, a colorful umbrella appeared above my head. A warm afghan was placed over me. A woman took my pulse, reassuring me that she was a nurse. Another woman attended to my daughter’s eye. “I am an eye specialist,” her calm voice soothed. “Why, I’m a nurse as well,” another voice cried.

As an approaching siren sounded in the distance, I attempted to speak.

“Girls, I love you so much. I want you to remember that God is with you always. He’s all that matters…”

We arrived at the hospital as the rain ceased, immediately wheeled into the emergency room for various scans and examinations. Miraculously, we were all fine, other than extensive bruising and lacerations.

“Your car slid six feet under a parked motor coach. You’re lucky to be alive,” an officer explained.

My husband arrived the next morning to take us back home. I spent weeks recuperating from bruised ribs. One afternoon, as I sat in the warm sunshine, a colorful afghan folded across a nearby ottoman caught my eye. Reaching for it, I suddenly envisioned the kind face placing it over me as I lay on the wet highway median. Tenderly, I unfolded the blanket. That’s when I spotted it—an enormous angel with outstretched arms.

I’d relived the entire accident countless times over the past few weeks. How had I overlooked that blanket?

I still couldn’t comprehend how two nurses and an eye specialist could instantly appear in the middle of a horrific storm. Clutching the afghan a little closer, I closed my eyes. Suddenly it wasn’t just the afghan warming me through and through.

“Thank you, Lord, for sending your angels to our rescue,” I whispered.

~Mary Z. Whitney

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