my Christmas Miracle 2010

in my inbox this morning...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Today At approx 3:30 PM, while returning from a visit with family, my wife and two week old daughter were involved in a head-on collision at an intersection within one mile from our home.

When somebody thinks about a car accident they really only deal with two possible points of perspective, that of a relatively neutral bystander, or one of the people actively involved in the incident. But today I experienced this event in a way in which few others have, a way that is beyond all odds. Today, I watched what I honestly believed to be the death of my wife and child.

In a barely believable twist of fate, I was the first car stopped at the red side of the intersection. I saw my wife coming down the road, I saw her begin her turn. I saw her recognize me. Her eyes met mine and she smiled, and just as I smiled back, a pickup truck hit the front of her SUV with such force that it sent it spinning out of my field of vision. She was gone.

There was no time to be sad, there was no time for fear, there was no question of what needed to be done. I jumped out of my car, and ignoring the smoke and the noise, I started to run after them. As I came upon the driver's side door I frantically started to bang on the window and pull at the handle, but it was locked. It was then that I realized I had never stopped moving, never stopped running; her vehicle was still skidding away under the power of the tremendous impact. As the vehicle finally began to stop, my wife was able to pull herself together enough to hit the lock button from the inside. Fighting my way through the side airbags and the acrid smoke of their deployment charges, I was able to finally see my wife's face again, though it was not the same face I remembered from just seconds before. She was in pain but more than that, she was terrified. Because of the many noises that surrounded the two of us in what was left of her vehicle, the crying of our daughter was not one of them.

If you had asked me yesterday how if felt to be a father, I would have laughed it off and said I hadn't really gotten adjusted to the thought of being a Dad. Worse, I might even have said that it didn't have an effect on me at all, and I felt pretty much the same as I ever did. But now of course I know that's wrong. I have very little memory of what happened between the time my wife started to scream my daughter's name and the time I got back to her car seat, but the memory of looking down at her and seeing her chest slowly rise and fall is as vivid as any painting I have, or will ever, see. It was a miracle, she was sleeping peacefully. Somehow she made it through the accident without even waking up.

After this, things begin to blur again. I remember calling my wife's mother, but I don't remember exactly what I said. I remember a man taking my car keys and moving my car out of the road, I remember a woman taking my daughter from the wreck and holding her in my car where it was warm and quiet. I didn't know these people, I will probably never meet them again, and up until a few hours ago I would have said they no longer existed, but there they were: "good people". I thanked them, too many times for me to remember, but still not nearly enough. I wish I asked their names, I wish I could have made them understand how it felt to know that there are still decent people out there who are willing to help absolute strangers in their time of need, but there was so much going on that I could barely keep up.

I didn't feel scared until my wife and daughter were in the ambulance and being rushed to the hospital. Once they were out of my sight and reach, I suddenly felt sick. My mind was clouded with irrational thoughts; I was sure they would never make it to the hospital, that the cruel joke fate was playing on me today was not yet over, somehow my family would survive the wreck only to disappear as if they never existed.

But they made it to the hospital, and so did I. Now it is some 8 hours after the event, and I feel compelled to put this ordeal down in writing. My wife suffered a broken arm from the force of the airbag deploying, but nothing else. Her arm took the brunt of the impact, which in the end saved her from more serious injuries. My daughter, as incredible as it may seem, slept soundly throughout the entire event. Only waking in the hospital, curious as to why her normally scheduled bottle had not yet arrived. She's lucky that she will never remember this day, but unfortunately I can't say the same.

Of all the emotions I feel, guilt is now the strongest. Even if I know it to be irrational, I can't help but feel partially responsible for the event. Was it me sitting at the intersection that took her concentration off of the road? Had I not been sitting at that exact point at that exact time, would my family have been spared this trauma? Or should I instead look at it as a blessing, that of all the places I could have been at the moment of the accident, I was by their side? It is the kind of question I don't think I will ever be able to answer, at least, not to my satisfaction. Good or bad, the events of today will be with me for the rest of my life.
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This was written by my 26 y.o. nephew who just became a new father 2 weeks ago.
God is truly great yes? Hold your loved ones close and Merry Christmas to us all.