THE HAND    (thank you, Tim!)

My daughter, Kathleen, was 15... too young to
seriously date but she had a boyfriend.  One evening,
when I was leaving to pick up my son, Paul, from
baseball practice, she asked if she could just go
with her boyfriend to pick up his little brother at a
friend's house.  She said they would come right back.
I said, "All right, just make sure you wear your seat
belt, and come right home."
It was my father's birthday and my youngest daughter,
Therese, was already at my father's house waiting for
us to come over with the cake I had yet to pick up at
the store.  I left to pick Paul up at school, but
decided to take the highway, rather than the shortcut
along the back roads.
After leaving the school, Paul and I ran in the store
for the cake and some last minute goodies.  As we were
getting into the car, we heard and saw paramedics,
fire trucks, three ambulances and of course a
multitude of police cars.  I got a sick feeling in my
stomach and said to Paul, "Somebody needs our prayers,
I wondered if there was a fire or a bad car accident.
At one of the intersections I had to stop to let more
emergency vehicles through, and prayed, "Lord, those
people need you right now, go to them and place your
protective hand over them."

We stopped at my parents to drop off the food, before
going home to pick up Kathleen, but my father met me
at the car and told us to postpone the party because
Therese had fallen asleep.  "Which way did you go to
the school?" he asked, "Because there was a bad
accident on the back road, I heard someone was killed.
It happened just about the time you had to  pick up
Paul at the school and I know you always go that way.
I was so happy to see you pull in, I had a  gut
feeling it was you."
As Paul and I drove the short distance home, I could
see our house was dark and when Kathleen is home
alone, she always burned every light.  As I turned off
the ignition, tears fell, "It was Kathleen," I told
Paul, "I know it."
I ran in the house and checked our answering machine,
no one had called.  I breathed a sigh of relief,
thinking that someone would have called by now.
"Paranoid," that's what Kathleen always called me,
and that's what I was telling myself, "You're just

Then, the phone rang.  It was her friend's mother, who
worked in the emergency room of our local hospital.
She only told me that the three of them were in an
accident and were being transported to the hospital.
I didn't call my husband at work, nor my parents.
Paul and I just left for the hospital.  As I pulled
into the parking lot, one of the paramedics, someone
we have known for years, met us at our car.  I'm
sorry, I'm so sorry," he said with tears streaming
down his face.
The next thing I remember after was talking to the
doctor in the hallway of the ER.  He asked me if I
believed in God, and with that my knees gave way.
"No," he said, "you don't understand, do you believe
in divine intervention?"  I stammered, a weak, "Yes."
Not having a clue what he was talking about.
He smiled at me and asked, "Do you know what shirt
your daughter is wearing, tonight?"  Nodding no, he
told me to go down the hall and look. "Your daughter
is blessed with angels and so are you.  From what the
emergency personnel told me, there is no way that your
daughter should be alive, let alone only have a few
Kathleen was laying on a cart, waiting for more
x-rays.  When I got to her, we both sobbed.  As I was
hugging her I had the urge to check her shirt,
unzipping her jacket, I read the words, "Jesus Saves."
I knew then, what the doctor had meant.  All  three
were treated and released.
On the way home that night, Kathleen told this story:
"It was really weird, about a quarter of a mile before
the accident, I said, 'Wait, we forgot to put our seat
belts on, my Mother will kill me.'  Then a car was
coming towards us in our lane, he swerved, and I knew
we got hit on the passenger side of the car, where I
was sitting.  We got hit a total of three times
because the car kept spinning in a circle.  I felt his
little brother's hand on my shoulder, holding me
tightly in place.  "But Mom, after it was all over, I
could still feel the hand on my shoulder.  I looked
and his little brother had flown out the back window
of the car, as we later found out, on the first spin.
"It was an angel, Mom, I know it!"
I knew it too, especially when we went the next day to
look at the car, it had been split in half, right
underneath my daughter's seat.  The driver of the
other car, witnesses said, was traveling 90-95 miles
per hour and the point of impact at that speed was
directly at Kathleen's door.
The police report stated that the car door was found
fifty feet away from the accident scene, with the seat
belt attached.  So when the door broke loose, "the
hand" was the only thing that saved my daughter's

The Lord, knew, long before I did that my child was in
trouble, and I will always praise Him for saving her
life and restoring mine.  I have been meaning to write
this story for the past couple years.  Kathleen just
turned 21.  While I was writing this I smiled and
cried, but it's all true.
  -- Barbara