Well, I already wrote about my first miracle which was being born in the first place to a mother with a severely weakened heart.  As I previously wrote, the fact that she and I survived the delivery was a miracle.   While talking to my 89-year-old Uncle George last week,  I happened to mention this particular incident.  He didn’t remember it,  so after I related the whole story to him, I thought it was worth writing down.

I was 9 years old and in the fourth grade, so it must have occurred in the early fall.  It was still fairly warm outside, and it was a rainy day.  I wanted to wear to school these linen type shoes, and my step mother said the bottoms might be too slippery for a rainy day.  But I talked her into saying yes and off I went.  We lived at the end of the street, and the cut off for buses was a mile at the beginning of the street.  So technically, I hiked a mile to school everyday.

You must remember this was a suburb of Cleveland and that hike was not pleasant in bad weather.  In those days, for example, they never closed schools even with lots of snow.  I remember walking and plowing through snow practically taller than me and having to rest by the curb on a pile of snow to keep on walking.

The trip to school was uneventful but the trip home could have killed me.  Like a lot of Holasek’s before me, we didn’t just walk; we practically ran through life, and I was running home with a friend.  A block from the school was a gas station, and my friend yelled stop, “a car is pulling in.”  I came to a screeching halt but my shoes slipped on the wet pavement, and I slipped under the wheel of a car pulling in.  It was a 54 Plymouth of all things.  Those cars were huge and heavy, and all I remember was having that car run half way up my skinny abdomen and roll back.

Then I saw all these people including a policeman getting gas surrounding me and the people were yelling, “She’s dead; She’s dead. ” And I yelled back, “I’m not dead.”  The ambulance came and took me to the hospital. My friend was so shocked and so upset she ran all the way home to tell her mother, and she didn’t know if I was dead or alive either.

While this was happening, they called my home to tell my step mother I was hit by a car, and didn’t say whether I was dead or alive.  She practically fainted.  When she got her wits back, and found out I was alive, she called my father at work on the other side of town, and told him in a gentler way.  I can’t imagine what went through my father’s mind rushing to the hospital, because he had lost my mother 9 years before.

They xrayed me from one end to the other.  I had no broken bones.  Then they observed me for hours, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with me except the tire marks on my abdomen so they let me out of the hospital late in the evening.

As a child, I didn’t mind all the extra attention.  Every relative (and I had a big family) paraded through our house praising God, and seeing those tire marks.  The poor man driving the car called constantly to check to see how I was doing. I had to go to court and there was a small settlement.  I frankly remember nothing about that because we certainly had not consulted a lawyer.

At the time, I just didn’t realize just how much a miracle it was.  But once I studied anatomy, I was absolutely stunned.  That car ran onto my pelvis without breaking it.  It ran up on half my intestines and didn’t rupture them.  (There had to be very little gas in them at the time for this to happen)  Imagine if it had been my chest or my head.  My internal reproductive organs were intact.  It’s almost like angels protected me from harm when harm was almost certain in this situation.

Since both of these miracles happened to me as a child, it took years to come to terms with the significance of both events.  To this day, I don’t know how I survived without injury from that accident.  However, both incidents had a huge effect on how I viewed my life, my faith, and my responsibilities.   By age 9, I already had 2 miracles, and little did I know, there were more to come.

If anyone wonders why there are angels all over the house, they are right at home here.  And they will be with me forever.  Written on Stacy’s and my grave is this:  “Be an angel to others as a way of thanking God for the help angels have given you.”DSC_0917