“I’ll meet you down the hill,” I said. Smiling at Jim, my co-worker, I scooted myself off the chairlift bench and pointed my skis to the right. Jim veered off the left.
I was one of the teacher chaperones for the annual, high school ski trip that we took each winter. As an intermediate skier, I was proficient on the green runs, competent on the blue, challenged on the black runs. We had a full day ahead of us to enjoy the variety of runs. As I made my way down the hill, I noticed that the rain from the day before had created a slick covering of ice on the snow. Managing my trajectory was difficult and, before I knew it and without comprehending what was happening, I gradually moved onto a Black treed run. When I realized what had transpired, I struggled to maneuver myself over to an easier slope.
Suddenly, my ski caught on an edge and I tumbled, rolled and flailed down a steep incline. Trees were flying past me. My sunglasses flew, my poles were ripped out of my hands, my skis disengaged and my body careened down the slippery slope like tumbleweed on steroids. Scenes from my life flashed into my mind until – Bam! My body wrapped itself around the trunk of a tall pine tree like a piece of red licorice, stopping my descent instantly and knocking the air out of my lungs. I was toque-less, ski-less and helpless. And, with my body screaming at me, I knew immediately that something was broken.
I wiggled my fingers and toes – all good. As I tried to shift my body, sharp pain shot through my side. I knew it was best not to move. Craning my neck, I noticed that the Black Diamond run I was on looked dangerously steep. I didn’t even attempt to sit up. And so, I lay there looking up through the forest of trees at the tiny opening to the grey clouds above me and cried.
Praying to God to let me live, I thought about my two darling little boys, my husband, my family and friends and wondered if I would survive to see tomorrow. The pain became more acute as I lay on the cold snow. I understood that I was lucky to even be alive. Eerie silence surrounded me and I realized that no one knew I was there.
“Hello?” I managed to yell, but my echoed greeting resounded in the trees.
“Help! Anyone? Help!” were my next pleas to the silent, white world all around me. I knew that I needed medical attention. Prayerful thoughts drifted in and out for what seemed like an eternity. Time stretched on and I didn’t know how long I had been lying in the snow. Thankfully, I still had my gloves to keep my hands warm.
“Help!” was my continued cry. Suddenly I caught a glimpse of movement on the hill. I desperately hoped that they could hear me. Exerting all the strength of my voice to carry through the bare branches, I yelled once more. “Help! I’m in the trees! Help! I can’t move!” I could faintly see a lone figure slowly trudging through the stand of trees.
A deep male voice said, “Is someone there?”
“Yes, I’m in the trees. I can’t move! Please help!”
A man in a toque and a blue ski outfit made his way toward me, carefully choosing each step to inch closer to me. “My name is Derek. Are you okay?”
The fact that he’d made a great effort to maneuver near me, despite the hazardous conditions, caused me to assume that he must be a ski patrol scanning the hills for injured skiers.
I said, “I think I’ve broken something and can’t move. I’m in pain.”
“I’ll go for help,” he replied. As he skied away, I was left again to the vast silence of the forest on the treacherous mountainside.
Eventually, the ski patrol brought their skidoo and rescue sled. Two men untangled me from the tree, strapped me into a toboggan and jostled me down the hill to the bottom, where an ambulance was waiting for me.
When I arrived at the hospital, I was taken for X-rays, poked and questioned. They asked, “Where does it hurt? We can’t seem to find anything. No broken ribs.”
And then one doctor came into the room with a long metal tube, inserted the probe and declared, “She’s bleeding internally. Get her prepped for surgery.”
After a few hours on the operating table, they patched up my spleen, my bladder and inserted a tube for drainage. I was then wheeled to my sterile, white room to recover.
Needless to say, my colleagues, the bus driver and the students eventually learned where I was. My husband was contacted at the basketball game he was coaching and my family was informed about what had happened. Jim, my co-worker, had assumed that I caught up with some other skiers and would see him at the end of the day. When I didn’t show up, the search began. Luckily someone had posted on the ski board by the chairlift that a female was taken to the local hospital. That’s where they found me.
Miles away from my home, I stayed at the hospital for a number of weeks, thankful to be alive. Tubes were inserted in multiple locations on my body and I would fade in and out from the morphine. I learned a number of interesting facts during the time I was there. First, the doctor who performed my surgery had just finished his training under a top-notch surgeon. Secondly, the cyst on my kidney, the size of a golf ball, was removed and my hernia fixed, but most amazing was that one week prior to my accident, a medical doctor had also hit a tree, gone home, and succumbed to his death from internal bleeding. I was so grateful that this scenario hadn’t happened to me and that I received the help I needed in time.
When I became a bit stronger, another ambulance delivered me to my hometown hospital where I spent more days and weeks recovering. I was grateful to be closer to my family and as I grew healthier, I had time to reflect on what had transpired. I decided that when I was released from the hospital I would deliver cards to the doctor who saved my life, the nurses who cared for me and the ski patrol – with a special thanks to Derek.
In the spring I delivered my chocolates, cards and flowers to the hospital, hugged the nurses and doctors who had cared for me and then drove out to the ski hill.
“I want to thank you for saving my life. I was that lady on the side of the hill that hit the tree a few months ago.” I told them my recovery story and asked for Derek.
“Derek?”
“Yes, Derek. He was the one who found me and let you know I was injured.”
“We’ve never had anyone by that name working here.”
Utterly surprised, that’s when I knew that Derek was the angel on skis that God had sent that day to answer my prayer on the side of that mountain. I had assumed he was a ski patrol. I don’t know for sure if Derek was an angel or simply another skier who found me and helped. Either way, God sent someone to rescue me.
And now years later, as I look back on not just my ski accident, but multiple times when my life was in danger from a car accident, airplane situations and near death experiences, I see God’s protection on my life. The angel He has assigned to me has been there every time and will be near me until God takes me home. I am so blessed to be alive. I am so thankful that I had many years to continue my teaching career after that incident and many wonderful moments with my family. I am also very grateful for a grandson to love and I will be welcoming a granddaughter soon.
When your life flashes before your eyes or you have time to reflect that you may not be alive because of circumstances, you get a whole new perspective on life itself. God’s hand, God’s timing, God’s unfailing love continues to be demonstrated time and time again. To Him be the praise, glory and honor. I am blessed beyond measure and alive to tell my story.
Submitted by: Lorrie Morales
*****
Once we get to Heaven and God shows us a reel of our life, we will discover how many times we were rescued, protected or redirected by supernatural means. What a divine privilege it is that, during our time on earth, God gives us snapshots into the supernatural realm, unusual happenings that announce that Heaven is present and involved in our lives.
For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.
Psalm 91:11
If you would like to share a personal story of supernatural protection or angelic activity in your history, please reach out. Private message me on Facebook messenger or email me and I will explain the details. I would love to share your testimony through my newsletter mailout and, if you are willing, on my blog as an encouragement to others. As it says in Hebrews 3:13, “Encourage one another daily, as long as it is called ‘Today’”.
Also, you are welcome to share this story with your friends and family, or with anyone who needs some encouragement.
