By Louie Ferrera

How long does a second last? As long as it takes for a hummingbird to beat its wings 70 times, as long as it takes for you to blink your eyes. The difference between winner and runner up in the Olympics is one second, it could also be the difference between life and death.

Were angels watching over my son when that huge redwood tree narrowly missed crushing him to death inside his car? Do angels even exist? And if so are they always benevolent beings who look out for our well being and keep us safe from harm? 

Sam’s car was a 1994 Mazda Miata, a tiny bug of a sports car with a convertible fabric roof. The redwood tree was at least 50 feet tall. A couple of weeks ago Sam was driving home from work down a narrow side street a few miles from our house, it was the night of that nasty “atmospheric river” winter storm. It had been pouring all day and high winds were whipping tall trees around like blades of grass. The redwood came down without warning, striking the front bumper of his car just below the headlights, stopping it dead in its tracks. We figured it was a matter of one second. Had Sam arrived at that exact moment in time one second later, that tree would have come down on a very different part of the car. One second. The blink of and eye, 70 beats of a hummingbird’s wings.

When Carol and I got home with Sam that night, we were all in shock. I think he realized how close he came to being seriously injured or killed, but in the moment was more upset about his car being totaled. When you’re 19 years old you’re bulletproof and can’t imagine your own demise.

On my way to bed I could hear wind and lashing rain outside as the storm was still going strong. I went by Sam’s room to say goodnight. When he came to the door and I pulled him close, hugging him as if to take in his entire being. I breathed in his scent, feeling the muscles in his back and the outline of his collarbone against mine. I hugged my son like I’ve never hugged him before, the gratitude I felt at that moment was overwhelming. I didn’t know who or what to thank. “I love you more than anything in the world” I whispered. 

Sleep did not come easily for me that night but when it did I knew that Sam was safe and sound…and alive. When I awoke the next morning, I walked into his room and did something that I hadn’t done since he was a baby: I stood beside his bed and watched him as he slept.