It’s A Miracle: Real Life Inspirational Stories, Extraordinary Events and Everyday Wonders

Rob underwent a remarkable transformation. With a newfound sense of purpose, Rob channeled his energy from motorcycles and parties to starting his own business as an electrical contractor.

Rob said, “I believe that prior to the wreck I would not have been able to handle the business. I would like to say I’m on my way back up and I thank God every day.”

But Rob still wondered why he of all people would be given a second chance at life, and then, almost a year to the day after his accident, Rob was driving past the same intersection when he received the answer to his question.

“I was heading back to the office in a dead run—you know, in a hurry. I come up, and there’s a car wreck right in front of me,” recalls Rob. “I mean, two trucks hit each other right in front of me. I was the first one on the scene.”

Rob ran to the nearest vehicle while calling 911 on his cell phone. Meanwhile, inside the other vehicle, Vicky O’Briant was just beginning to regain consciousness.

Vicky remembers, “I didn’t know anything about how we had flipped over or anything. I just knew that I was upside down, and I really couldn’t get a grasp on where I actually was.”

When Rob was certain the first driver was okay, he turned his attention to Vicky’s truck.

“With truck damage as bad as that, you don’t know what you’re fixing to find. You’re praying that a cop might show up, because I don’t want to do it. I managed to get the driver of the vehicle to the curb. I sat her down on the grass, and the little boy sat down right beside her.”

“That’s when I started screaming about my daughter, Camille,” says Vicky, “that my daughter was hurt very badly.”

Rob rushed back to the vehicle. “I look in, and there is a little girl, upside down, unconscious, and just hanging limp with the seat belt around her neck. Her lips and skin were exactly the same color—she was one solid color blue.”

Worse still, the truck was leaking fluid and the engine was still running. Rob knew that if he didn’t act quickly, the truck would catch fire or explode.

“There was no room inside the truck. It was crushed and I couldn’t get the seat belt unbuckled. At this point, I’m now praying, ‘Please don’t let this truck blow up.’ I’m throwing a double prayer up to God—‘Please don’t let this baby die, whatever you do, please don’t let this baby die. And please don’t let the truck blow up.’ Luckily, I had a small Leatherman pocketknife on me and I was able to use that to cut the seat belt.”

Rob quickly cut the young girl free. But she remained unconscious.

“I had this little child lying in front of me. And I really didn’t want to move her because I thought she might have some internal injuries. So I decided I would stay inside the truck with her and pray that an ambulance or somebody would show up.”

Vicky was beside herself. “I didn’t know anything about what was going on—if my daughter was okay. And I was so scared that I was just screaming. I didn’t know how to help her. I just knew that somebody was in there helping my daughter.”

After ten terrifying minutes, paramedics finally arrived. Luckily, the truck never caught on fire, and the paramedics were able to get Camille out. With the situation finally under control, Rob left the scene without a word. Vicky and her children were taken to a local hospital. Miraculously, no one had suffered any serious injuries, including her daughter, Camille.

“The doctors told me that if someone hadn’t cut her out of that seat belt, she would have suffocated,” says Vicky. “There was no way that she probably would have made it.”

But Vicky had no way of thanking the heroic stranger that had saved their lives that day … until she stumbled upon a clue to his identity.

“A few days later we decided we were going to clean the truck and get our personal possessions out. We looked in the backseat and there was a Leatherman knife that we’d never seen before, and I said, ‘This must be the knife that cut my daughter out of her seat belt.’ So I turned it over and there was a man’s name on it. When I got home, I looked in the phone book and the man’s name was right there. It was the only Rob Gingery that there was.”

Rob was working at home when the telephone rang. Little did he know, it was Vicky O’Briant.

“And she said, ‘Were you at the scene of an accident?’ and I said, ‘Yes.’ Then she said, ‘I’ve got something that belongs to you. We found your knife in the truck.’”

Vicky recalls, “I gave him my name, and I said, ‘Well, I believe you’re the man who saved my daughter.’ And he couldn’t believe that she had made it, and that he had been a part of saving her life. It was a miracle to him, and he couldn’t wait to meet us.”

But it was Vicky who was truly in disbelief when she learned about Rob’s motorcycle wreck at that same intersection just one year before.

“I couldn’t believe that he happened upon our accident at the same site where he had his. I felt like his survival was such a miracle and that God let him live for a reason, and that reason was to help my daughter and save my daughter’s life. He says he’s not a hero, but I believe he’s my hero, and he’s my daughter’s hero.”

Little Camille agrees. “I think it’s a miracle because he saved us and if he wouldn’t have been there, I would have died.”

Today, Rob is a close friend to Vicky and her family, and while it took a year and two near-tragedies to bring them together, the experience they share taught them all the lesson of a lifetime.

“I don’t go to church every Sunday,” says Vicky. “But I do pray to God every day, and thank Him for saving us and saving Rob a year ago.”

“Prior to my wreck, I took the blessings I’ve had in life for granted,” concludes Rob. “I don’t do that anymore. The lessons I’ve had in the last eighteen months have taught me to look at things differently. Even when they seem their worst, look around, because it could be worse. Every day, I take time to say, ‘Thank you, God, thank you for what I’ve got.’”

LADY IN THE LAKE

Ever since he was a young boy, Paul Lessard’s nightmare was always the same.

“I’m in a car, and the car hurtles through the air, and then hits the water. And the water starts coming into the car and we start submerging. And I can feel the water moving up my legs, up to my waist, up to my chest. These dreams began when I was eleven years old, and literally continued three—four times a year, all the way up until I was in my thirties,” says Paul.

His wife, Jayne, a psychologist, was concerned as well, often waking in the night when he had a nightmare to ask, “Honey, are you okay? Did you have another one of those drowning dreams? Baby, I don’t know what’s causing them.” Frustrated, Jayne attempted to help Paul understand his dream, but although they’d “talk through it and stuff, it didn’t ever feel like there was a real resolution to why he was having it or what was going on—and it would keep recurring.”

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