Divine Intervention
Jan 13, 2023 18:56:34 GMT -5
Post by Radrook Admin on Jan 13, 2023 18:56:34 GMT -5
As mortal fallible humans, we all have our close-calls with disasters sooner or later. Unfortunately some persons are in the habit of almost always considering their close-escapes from serious harm as evidence of divine intervention.
However, not all close-calls can be attributed to divine intervention. Some can easily be explained simply by coincidences. For example, we might arrive moments after a disaster has occurred because of an unforeseen traffic jam, and in that way avoided being among the victims. What exactly prevented us from being there at that exact time? A bout of indigestion? A child perhaps needed to be taken to the ER? Surely, many who narrowly escaped the 9/11 disaster of the Twin Towers in that fortunate fashion, might have attributed their escape from harm to divide intervention.
However, other experiences can only to be explained via divine-intervention since any other explanation simply does not work. The childhood experience that I had at approx. age four, which I will describe below, is one in which I feel that divine intervention prevented my death, or else, prevented very serious injuries that could have made my future life a veritable living hell.
Here is the way that it happened. I was approx. four years old at the time, and we, my father, mother and I, were visiting my aunt Julia who lived with her husband Alfonso and my grandmother Kiteria, in this five-storied apartment on 25th Street New York City, in Manhattan approx. two blocks away from where the elevated trains continuously stopped or passed by.
Now, this was back in 1951, and 25th street below, was a veritable frenzy of incessantly honking cars and trucks and bus horns since no law prohibited it at that time. No, they were not just honking because they needed to honk, but honking just to hear themselves honking, and everyone, including the residents of all the adjacent apartment-buildings, seemed to accept the constant bedlam as perfectly normal.
This entire frenzy of the congested traffic, was visible from the apartment window which was being kept wide open. So as the adults in the apartment were engaged in an animated conversation about all sorts of trivial matters, such as the profit of betting on the horses, or the most popular Spanish song on radio, in the bedroom approx. 24 feet away, I was at that living-room window totally engrossed in observing the traffic, and listening to its constant, and senseless bedlam of noise.
But what had especially caught my undivided childish attention, was the rattling sound as the elevated-subway-train went by three blocks away. It could barely be seen in the distance if I leaned out the window and looked towards the right. Since I wanted to repeatedly catch a glimpse of it, I began leaning my upper body on the windowsill with my tummy acting like a fulcrum. Each time I heard the train passing, I would lean a little further out in order to get a better look, when suddenly, and to my horror, I felt myself slowly sliding head-first out the window.
The shock and the intense fear of what I considered imminent death, were so great, that I was rendered voiceless and found that couldn't cry out for help even though I desperately wanted to. Instinctively, I began struggling not to fall by trying to force my lower body into lifting my torso back up into the apartment. I began flailing my little legs and hoping that someone, either, my aunt, her husband or my mom or dad, or my grandmother would see what was happening and help me.
After all, they were all gathered in the opened-door bedroom that faced the window, and could surely see that I was in deep trouble. Right? But to my utter dismay, all that I kept hearing was their accursed animated conversation, as if totally oblivious to my predicament, while my frantic efforts to stop the slow sliding seemed useless since the bulk of my weight was outside the widow and gravity was having its mindless and unmerciful effect.
Finally, as the sliding gradually and relentlessly continued, very slow centimeter by slow centimeter, I felt that I had only moments before the rapid and lethal, bone-shattering descent to the hard, concrete-pavement below would start. Seeing that nothing that I did was stopping it, I had actually given up all hope and resigned myself to my fate, when I suddenly, and inexplicably, felt that my former balance restored. It was as if my legs had been suddenly rendered more massive, and could once more easily tilt my upper body away from danger below. Finally, I moved myself away from that danger, and I was safe once more.
It had been an extremely harrowing experience, and I sat by that window for a while heart pounding, and extremely shaken. It still seemed very weird that everyone there never noticed how close I had come to death. There they still were, carelessly, and very calmly engaged in the same animated conversation in the bedroom, from which the window, where I had almost plunged to my death from, was in full-view from their vantage point. Yet they had remained totally engrossed in their own private world as my precious, childish world had been about to come to a violent end. As if somehow, I had been totally invisible.
I have always considered that very strange indeed whenever I recall what happened and almost happened, and doubts about whether I had been seen or not, and if I had, the question of why any of them would have chosen to ignore my plight, keep cropping up.
Just one thing and one thing only remains certain during such moments, that my survival had been the result of divine intervention, and most definitely not mere luck. That there was no way on this Earth that I could have recovered my balance without any assistance. That the bulk of my weight was outside the widow, and that the descending process had started, and that my frantic efforts to tilt the balance in order to prevent the fall, were having absolutely no effect.
That there had been no powerful updraft to lift me to safety to account for my ability to suddenly escape. That the only logical possible reason for my survival had been divine intervention and not mere luck. Of that one fact I am always absolutely sure.
However, not all close-calls can be attributed to divine intervention. Some can easily be explained simply by coincidences. For example, we might arrive moments after a disaster has occurred because of an unforeseen traffic jam, and in that way avoided being among the victims. What exactly prevented us from being there at that exact time? A bout of indigestion? A child perhaps needed to be taken to the ER? Surely, many who narrowly escaped the 9/11 disaster of the Twin Towers in that fortunate fashion, might have attributed their escape from harm to divide intervention.
However, other experiences can only to be explained via divine-intervention since any other explanation simply does not work. The childhood experience that I had at approx. age four, which I will describe below, is one in which I feel that divine intervention prevented my death, or else, prevented very serious injuries that could have made my future life a veritable living hell.
Here is the way that it happened. I was approx. four years old at the time, and we, my father, mother and I, were visiting my aunt Julia who lived with her husband Alfonso and my grandmother Kiteria, in this five-storied apartment on 25th Street New York City, in Manhattan approx. two blocks away from where the elevated trains continuously stopped or passed by.
Now, this was back in 1951, and 25th street below, was a veritable frenzy of incessantly honking cars and trucks and bus horns since no law prohibited it at that time. No, they were not just honking because they needed to honk, but honking just to hear themselves honking, and everyone, including the residents of all the adjacent apartment-buildings, seemed to accept the constant bedlam as perfectly normal.
This entire frenzy of the congested traffic, was visible from the apartment window which was being kept wide open. So as the adults in the apartment were engaged in an animated conversation about all sorts of trivial matters, such as the profit of betting on the horses, or the most popular Spanish song on radio, in the bedroom approx. 24 feet away, I was at that living-room window totally engrossed in observing the traffic, and listening to its constant, and senseless bedlam of noise.
But what had especially caught my undivided childish attention, was the rattling sound as the elevated-subway-train went by three blocks away. It could barely be seen in the distance if I leaned out the window and looked towards the right. Since I wanted to repeatedly catch a glimpse of it, I began leaning my upper body on the windowsill with my tummy acting like a fulcrum. Each time I heard the train passing, I would lean a little further out in order to get a better look, when suddenly, and to my horror, I felt myself slowly sliding head-first out the window.
The shock and the intense fear of what I considered imminent death, were so great, that I was rendered voiceless and found that couldn't cry out for help even though I desperately wanted to. Instinctively, I began struggling not to fall by trying to force my lower body into lifting my torso back up into the apartment. I began flailing my little legs and hoping that someone, either, my aunt, her husband or my mom or dad, or my grandmother would see what was happening and help me.
After all, they were all gathered in the opened-door bedroom that faced the window, and could surely see that I was in deep trouble. Right? But to my utter dismay, all that I kept hearing was their accursed animated conversation, as if totally oblivious to my predicament, while my frantic efforts to stop the slow sliding seemed useless since the bulk of my weight was outside the widow and gravity was having its mindless and unmerciful effect.
Finally, as the sliding gradually and relentlessly continued, very slow centimeter by slow centimeter, I felt that I had only moments before the rapid and lethal, bone-shattering descent to the hard, concrete-pavement below would start. Seeing that nothing that I did was stopping it, I had actually given up all hope and resigned myself to my fate, when I suddenly, and inexplicably, felt that my former balance restored. It was as if my legs had been suddenly rendered more massive, and could once more easily tilt my upper body away from danger below. Finally, I moved myself away from that danger, and I was safe once more.
It had been an extremely harrowing experience, and I sat by that window for a while heart pounding, and extremely shaken. It still seemed very weird that everyone there never noticed how close I had come to death. There they still were, carelessly, and very calmly engaged in the same animated conversation in the bedroom, from which the window, where I had almost plunged to my death from, was in full-view from their vantage point. Yet they had remained totally engrossed in their own private world as my precious, childish world had been about to come to a violent end. As if somehow, I had been totally invisible.
I have always considered that very strange indeed whenever I recall what happened and almost happened, and doubts about whether I had been seen or not, and if I had, the question of why any of them would have chosen to ignore my plight, keep cropping up.
Just one thing and one thing only remains certain during such moments, that my survival had been the result of divine intervention, and most definitely not mere luck. That there was no way on this Earth that I could have recovered my balance without any assistance. That the bulk of my weight was outside the widow, and that the descending process had started, and that my frantic efforts to tilt the balance in order to prevent the fall, were having absolutely no effect.
That there had been no powerful updraft to lift me to safety to account for my ability to suddenly escape. That the only logical possible reason for my survival had been divine intervention and not mere luck. Of that one fact I am always absolutely sure.