The Hand of God
A Childhood Memory Offers Proof of the Protection of Divine Spirit
By JA
I stood with my mother at the side of a hot, dusty gravel road, waiting for the bus. It would take us to the general store that served our little construction town carved into the wilderness of coastal British Columbia.
We had walked nearly twenty minutes from home to the bus stop to join our neighbors, who were also in search of gum boots and groceries.
Thirsty and impatient as only a seven-year-old boy can be, I stepped away from my mother's side and onto the road to search the horizon for a dust cloud that might signal the arrival of our bus.
To my horror, I had stepped into the path of a huge gravel truck! Frozen with fear, I watched a great gray tire, twice my height, bear down on me.
I was about to be crushed.
Suddenly an invisible hand grabbed me and pulled me from danger. My heart was racing. In a single moment my life had been lost, then won again. I knew I had been saved from certain death.
But who had rescued me?
I looked around for my savior, but no one was there. The folks at the bus stop were still chatting with each other, oblivious to the near tragedy right in front of them.
I turned to my mother, ready to tell her I had faced death and was no longer a child. But she, also, was exchanging pleasantries with a neighbor, blissfully unaware she had almost lost her son.
Soon the bus clattered to a stop in front of us. As we boarded, I tried again to tell my mother what had happened, but I couldn't find the words. The experience had been for me alone.
I realized I had been saved by the hand of God. In that one moment, I received the gift of life and was changed forever. I became the seeker.
I now know that the love and protection of the Mahanta is always with us, long before we recognize him. For me, the memory of that day is proof of that.
Excerpted from the 2008 Eckankar Journal, copyright © 2007 ECKANKAR. All rights reserved. Illustration by David Purnell.
