Who believes in Guardian angels these days? According to a new survey by Baylor University's Institute for Studies of Religion More than half of all adults, including one in five of those who say they are not religious, believe that they have been protected by a guardian angel during their life.
My analytical mind tells me that such things are nonsense…angels and spirits and santa claus. Yet…there are times in our lives when some primitive part of the cerebral cortex is triggered by some startling event…and suddenly these things become quite real to us.
It was a few years ago, in early December when I took my son Noah skiing for the first time that season…to Bolton Valley, right here in Vermont. The previous winter he was getting pretty good for a 7 year old....going down some intermediate slopes and skiing in control at all times.
We go over to the beginners slope, which has rope tow lift and is a 100 yard run from top to the bottom. At the lift line Noah in good spirits; excited to be out on skis again since he did so well last year.....but....he asks me as we approach the lift line...."Daddy, now how do you stop again? Do you put your skies together like this…?" He then demonstrates the correct beginner’s method for stopping on skis, known in some circles as the "pizza slice" position for effective halting of forward progress. I say..."Yeah! You’ve got it! Great…you remember what Barbara Anne taught you last year, right?"
Barbara Anne is Barbara Anne Cochrane...local ski legend and a bit of an angel herself. She won the gold medal in woman's slalom in Sapporo Japan at the '72 Olympics. Noah had the privilege of learning how to ski the previous winter from her. Given the pedigree of his instructor, Noah’s spirited mood…I had at that moment an overwhelming false sense of well being.
At the top, Noah gets off flawlessly and skis to the side about 5 yards and comes to a gliding stop. I schuss over to him and start to tell him how things are going to proceed....how he is going to wait for me to ski in front of him, and how we will take wide gentle turns down this very short, very non-steep (but slick and icy) slope. I am in the middle of this windy dissertation, looking at him and talking to him ...well...not exactly looking right at him....I was....OK, I admit it.....I was distracted by an attractive female gamely trying to learn how to snowboard a few feet away from us. Lecturing Noah, while looking in her direction, I continue on "....and then, … I want you to stop at the end of each turn when I stop....do a pizza slice, ya know, and then we will start into the next turn together and......"
This is when I stopped gawking and talking because it had come to my attention that my son was 10 yards ahead of me, headed straight down the hill at high speed. I took off after him as fast as I could but he was not catch-able.
At first he was making what appeard to be seamless, stylish turns through the maze of beginners sprawled in various positions of agony over the hill....so for the briefest moment I thought..."My God, he really is a pretty good skier!". This thought was quickly replaced with this one …."Holy Crap! Noah!! Stop!!!" He was accelerating down the hill at an alarming rate ….out of control and headed towards a bad outcome.
He had two directional choices to consider in his panicked little mind and about 15 yards of solid ice slope to make it in:
To the right was a short steep hill leading down to the ski lodge ending abruptly at a solid, unmoving wall.
To his left lay a small warming hut. The door into this shack was closed.
Noah chose the shack.
The impact of Noah and Shack was stunning. As he violently hit the door I convulsed with a reflex scream "PIZZZAAA SLIIICCCCEE!!!""..... Thankfully the door wasn't shut tight (or an angel propped it open). His skis hit the wooden entrance at the foot of the door and his bindings released, skis staying put outside of the hut while my precious Noah was launched like a missile into the air, through the door of the shack, flying...no kidding....7 feet across the structure and striking the opposite wall - helmeted-head first. I was 3 seconds behind him, picking him off the floor carefully. Surely something was snapped or mangled or concussed or broken. He was screaming ...people came running...people were yelling...it was chaos
We sat there, him crying and crying in my lap,. He was inconsolable...... but, unbelievably, whole. He was in one piece, safe, unbroken.
While airborne he must have been snatched up by his protector spirit and then, carried on angel’s wings, safely deposited on the wooden floor of the shack….it’s really the only possible explanation.
You can now include me in that 50% that believe in guardian angels.
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