If my last post didn’t convince you of God’s intimate presence in our lives, perhaps this one will. This story comes directly from Phil Bolsta’s blog, http://bolstablog.com
Keep in mind, though, that whether or not this gentlemen listened to what he was being told, he still would have been fine – the outcomes would have been completely different, of course, but HE still would have been fine. Different lessons would have been learned, but HE STILL WOULD HAVE BEEN FINE.
Now … on to the story:
When Christopher Barbour, a clairvoyant intuitive and writer who assists law enforcement with difficult cases, told me these two amazing stories about how his angel saved his life, I knew I had to share them here. Goose bump alert!
As far back as I can remember, I have always felt watched over and cared about by a divine mysterious creator, and what I would call a spiritual support system. Thankfully, this inner life of mine was not foisted upon me by organized religion or well meaning family members—it’s always been there, and always will be there.
When I was seven, episodes of clairvoyance and intuition spontaneously began to bubble to the surface in my life. These experiences always took me directly to the sacred and the mysteries that we all share. That intuitive wiring of mine would eventually become part of my work, expressed via a path of mysticism and service.
If you asked me prior to when I reached my 30s if I believed in angels, I would have said, ”Of course!” I would have answered that question looking through the prism of faith, combined with an inner knowing, as well as through reading accounts in ancient sacred texts, and listening to stories people have shared with me over the years about encounters with angels.
In the fall of 2002, I was dealing with some difficult personal and family issues and was rebounding from the death of a friend who had a long struggle with heroin addiction and eventually died of complications from hepatitis. I was in such a state that no amount of praying, meditation or discussion with my support system was helping. I was in a crisis mode unlike anything I had experienced before, and decided one blustery fall day, to take a long walk in a forest near my home in northern Arizona that many have described as “magical.” Walks alone in nature had become my way to deal with my mysteries and some of the darkness of my work, so it seemed the perfect thing for me to do under the circumstances.
My walk began normally but within about forty-five minutes, I had become so entrenched in my own head and problems that I hadn’t realized that I had veered off the path and was walking through a thicket of small trees and shrubs. I kept walking for several more minutes, approaching a line of low shrubs, when I heard a woman call my name. The voice that called “Christopher!” was female, and though I couldn’t place her, she sounded familiar; she shouted my name as only someone who knew me very well would.
I froze on the spot and looked to my left where the voice seemed to come from, and briefly saw a beautiful woman with long, light brown hair and a light colored diaphanous gown. She disappeared after a few seconds, before I was able to get a good look at her. I looked down and realized that I was no longer on the path, and that if I had taken one more step, I would have fallen forty feet onto jagged rocks below. I stood there, alone in the forest, closed my eyes and said to her, “Thank you, thank you, thank you . . .”
In early December 2004, I booked a trip back to the east coast to see my family in Connecticut for the holidays. I had arranged my trip so that I would return to Arizona on January 4th, after the holiday travel rush. One evening, I got into bed and fell into that state just before sleep called the hypnogogic state.
That is when a profound vision was downloaded into me. I was shown a scenario, seen from my own point of view, of flying back to Arizona from the east coast. It was stormy and raining as the plane landed. I looked to my left and in the seat next to me, there she was again, my angel—beautiful, light-filled, with long hair—the same woman who had called my name that day in the forest two years earlier. She was so light-filled, in fact, that I couldn’t look at her for more than a few seconds for fear that my eyes couldn’t take the brightness.
I was shown myself getting into the car that was to pick me up after my flight home, and then shown the driver and me on the highway north of Phoenix whizzing along. The car hit a patch of ice and I saw myself as the car began to slide off the highway and crash and come apart. I saw the windshield coming closer as I was thrown out of the car. There in front of me, seconds before what would have been my death, was my angel, smiling and radiating peace that I could feel deep within. I awoke with a start, shocked by what I had been shown with such razor clarity. I laid in bed for some time thinking about the vision and pondering canceling my trip east. It was very clear in the vision that I was flying west when this event happened, after I had been to the east coast. As I fell back to sleep, the vision came a second time, exactly as it had played out the first time. It was as if God and my angel didn’t want to leave room for denial or any ”it was just a dream” nonsense. It worked. I awoke the second time with a start and simply said, “Thank you God, thanks guys, I get it, I get it.”
After the visions, I was left with a strong inner knowing that as long as I didn’t return on January 4th, I would not die. I went back east for the holidays and after a few days, I checked the weather reports for Arizona and learned that a series of storms was heading toward the state. In fact, the part of Arizona where I live was bracing for severe floods and storms capable of producing dangerously icy conditions. I called the airline and extended my stay in Connecticut for a week, knowing that it was important, if I wanted to live, not to return to Arizona on January 4th.
I began to think of the driver who was to pick me up at the airport on January 4th and drive me home. As he was driving me to the airport in Phoenix at the beginning of my trip, he said that he would be dropping someone off at my airline around the time of my return, so it would be he easy for him to pick me up and drive me back home. I attempted to tell him about the visions I had but I was unable to get through to him. I learned early in life that when it comes to visions, people are either open or they’re not-—many, especially men, are unreachable until an experience actually happens to them.
As I sat in my mother’s home in Greenwich, Connecticut, I wondered, Should I call the car service to warn them, not caring if I sounded like a goofball? I decided to do that, and though I tried to call the number at least a dozen times over the course of several days, my call would never go through. It felt to me as though Heaven had something up their sleeves and it was not my business to mess with it. As January 4th neared, I sent the driver grace and prayers for his safety and greater good.
I returned home to Arizona completely intact. I had missed what friends and neighbors would eventually call “the 100-year flood.” A few weeks after my return, I was catching up with a friend who works in law enforcement and she told me that in early January, while I was away, there had been a terrible accident on the highway north of Phoenix. I froze as she said, “Thank God, no one was in the car with the driver. He lived, but there was virtually nothing left of the rest of the car.”
Several weeks after that, in a synchronicity that only the gods could arrange, I ran into the man who would have been my driver that day—the man who survived the crash. He proceeded to tell me that on January 4th, after dropping a woman off at the airport, he had a very close brush with death as he made his way north on highway I-17. His car hit a patch of ice on the highway north of Phoenix and there was a devastating accident. He told me that the police could not believe that he lived. Only the cage around the driver was intact, the rest of the car was tangled, jagged metal. When the police found out that he worked for a car service, they said, “Thank God you didn’t have any passengers. There’s no way they could have survived.” Then he told me something that I found both fascinating and chilling. The accident occurred in the exact spot where he had pulled over years earlier, to pick up a dead owl and give it a respectful burial.
That driver was scheduled for a close brush with death for reasons known only to God and that man’s spiritual support system. This God we experience and speak about knows the tiniest details about our lives. It was known that this brush with death was scheduled and necessary, and that I was “accidentally” scheduled to be in that car. It was somehow necessary in the whole scheme of things that I was not to reach the car service or the driver to give them a heads up. It felt as if God and my angel were saying, via the visions I was sent
We want you to know this is on the horizon. You can come home if you want, but we think you are needed on that bedeviled planet and have more work to do. It’s up to you, you can come home or stay. The choice is yours. We will be watching very closely.
Needless to say, I chose to stay. What I have learned through these two experiences is that we are more closely watched, and watched over, than we could ever imagine. I often wonder, “Just what is this unseen world that exists and cares so much about us within the vastness of time and space?” I am humbled, and I often cry, when I think about how much this mysterious creator and my angelic companion care about me.
I have never taken one walk in the beauty that surrounds me since without thinking about my angel and the day she called my name with such compassion, saving me from breaking my body in two. Her beauty and light is hard to describe and my love for her knows no bounds. She was there, right beside me in the visions of the car crash, letting me know that she would walk with me to what lies beyond the veil of death, where our lives really begin.
The visions themselves came from the One who created all visions, and wired us with intuition and spiritual gifts and skills and the stamina to not care what others think, the One who waits for us to awaken from our human slumber, who longs for us to remember what we already know.
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This story was taken from Triumph of the Spirit, Phil Bolsta’s blog. To learn more about Phil or to read other great stories (including a couple of mine) go to: http://bolstablog.com
ABOUT PHIL BOLSTA
Phil is the author of Sixty Seconds: One Moment Changes Everything, a collection of 45 inspiring, life-changing stories from prominent people he interviewed, including Joan Borysenko, Deepak Chopra, geneticist Dr. Francis Collins, acclaimed sportswriter Frank Deford, Dr. Larry Dossey, Wayne Dyer, Dan Millman, Caroline Myss, Dr. Christiane Northrup, Dr. Dean Ornish, Dr. Rachel Naomi Remen, Dr. Bernie Siegel, James Van Praagh, singer Billy Vera, Doreen Virtue, Neale Donald Walsch, and bassist Victor Wooten.
Here is a three-minute video that introduces you to Phil and his book. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bic0j4QqFbI
Reading this book is like spending a few minutes face to face with each of the contributors and listening to their personal stories. Click here to read unsolicited testimonials from readers. Learn more by visiting the official Sixty Seconds website.