We Survived a Crash That Should Have Killed Us

About two months ago, Avishag R., a 22-year-old mother from central Israel, was on her way to a family celebration in the north with her husband and children. Her husband was driving, the children were asleep in the back, and everything felt calm. She and her husband were chatting peacefully when in an instant, everything changed.

Out of nowhere, a car coming from the opposite direction crashed into them. It later appeared that the driver, an Arab man, may have done it on purpose. “My life flashed before my eyes,” Avishag recalls, her voice still filled with emotion. “The children woke up screaming, and I was terrified that they had broken bones or worse. I didn’t even want to look at the back seat.”

No words can fully describe what a mother feels in that kind of moment.

“I felt the front of the car crushing into my body. The pain was overwhelming, but I didn’t care about myself. When I saw that my six-month-old baby had flown out of her seat and was lying on the car floor, something inside me gave me strength I didn’t know I had. I somehow got up, opened the door, and pulled the kids into my arms.”

Soon, a crowd began to gather around the accident. “They were all Arab men,” she says honestly. “I was terrified they might harm us. But my husband stayed calm. He reassured me and said we would be okay.”

Moments later, Avishag collapsed onto the sidewalk in pain and shock, waiting for the ambulance. “My body was screaming. Every part of me hurt. I didn’t want to think about how badly I might be injured.”

But let’s go back a little, to the day before the accident. Avishag had been celebrating her son’s chalakah in Meron, a special ceremony traditionally done for a boy’s first haircut at age three, near the resting place of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai. “We had a big meal, and the joy was immense. I davened (prayed) with all my heart by the tzaddik’s (holy sage’s) grave. I even took my little boy with me and taught him how to pray. Looking back, I realize now how Hashem placed the exact words I needed into my mouth.”

Those prayers weren’t the only merit they had on their side. “Before we started the trip, we gave tzedakah (charity) as we always do before a journey and said out loud that it was for the elevation of the soul of Rabbi Akiva from Amsterdam. My father always taught us to do this. And this time, even though I don’t always remember, we gave and we said the Traveler’s Prayer too.”

Hashem listened.

At the scene of the accident, after what felt like forever, the ambulance arrived. The whole family was rushed to the hospital. “We were so afraid. We didn’t know what to expect. Who do you even call at that hour? What would happen next?”

At the hospital, they underwent a full series of tests. And then came the news that left them stunned: no broken bones. Just bruises. “Dry injuries,” the doctors said. Nothing life-threatening. “They told us we should be grateful because based on the condition of the car, it was clearly a miracle.”

The next day, a traffic inspector arrived. He looked at the completely crushed front end of their car and told her husband the vehicle would be taken off the road. “He also told us directly it’s a miracle you all walked away from this alive.”

So what saved them?

“I have no doubt,” says Avishag, “that it was the power of prayer and tzedakah. That day in Meron, the tefillot (prayers) at Rabbi Shimon’s grave… Hashem was with us. He protected us.”

And what about the fear and trauma?

“Only emunah (faith) helps me cope. I try to look at what happened through eyes of gratitude. I accept that this was how Hashem chose to wake me up and if this is the test He gave me, then it’s the best one for me. Before the accident, I wasn’t careful about prayer. I wasn’t turning to Hashem as much as I should have. Now I understand everything is from Him. And when something happens, the only place to turn is to Him.”