In 1986, on my 19th Birthday, my parents and my brother went to a basketball game. I smoked a joint, grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a beer and went out the garage. I made sure all of the windows were shut tightly, pulled my car into the garage, shut the door, rolled down my car windows and started it up. I sat calmly drinking the beer and smoking, waiting for the carbon monoxide to do it's magic. I was done.

Ten minutes later it was hard to breathe and my vision was going. I grew more and more disoriented as the fumes filled the garage. Suddenly I found myself in a place that was a pure, featureless white. A musical, lilting woman's voice to my right said "Young man, what is it that has made you so unhappy that you wish to die before you have lived?"

I looked for the source of this voice and found that it had come from the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She had long, dark, beautiful hair, obsidian black eyes and was wearing a white sari. I looked at her unbelievingly and said "I'm a white boy from Illinois. I was kind of expecting Jesus".

She laughed and replied "Things are not always what we expect, are they? Your inability to accept that is why we are here". I looked away and before my eyes two teenaged boys appeared, one tall and husky, one shorter and thin. "If you choose to die now", she said, "these young men will never be. To raise these boys is why you are here in the first place. Look at them and tell me, do you still wish to end it now?"

I started crying and said "No. No, I can't." As soon as I voiced the decision my vision started coming back slowly, first just shades of gray, light and shadow, then details. I was still very disoriented but I managed to take the keys from the ignition, crawl to the front steps, unlock the house and drag myself the rest of the way to the phone.

I was told by the doctor who treated me at the ER that the, considering the level of carbon monoxide in my blood, there was no way I should be alive, much less able to make it to the phone in the first place. He refused to believe that nobody had found me and dragged me into the house. I was not prepared to tell him who had REALLY helped me.

Seven years later I was married, had adopted one son and had another on the way. I was getting ready to go out of town for my job and I had nothing to read while I was stuck in the hotel(unacceptable). On the way to the office I stopped at a bookstore that had more giftware and greeting cards than books on the off chance that they would have something interesting to read on my road trip. The only thing I found was Paramahansa Yogananda's "Autobiography Of A Yogi". I grabbed it and left.

A couple of days later, after I got home from my trip, I was reading in bed when I came across the famous photo of the Yogananda standing next to Sri Anandamayi Ma. I nearly fell out of bed in shock. It was the woman from the garage. I got online and began to research her and it was true: every photo I saw served to confirm my belief. It was her, in my garage, four years after her physical death.

This event served two purposes: 1) It woke me up. I was no longer an atheist. 2) It started me off on a spiritual quest that has never ended. Every time I am with my sons (who are now in their late teens and look EXACTLY as they appeared in the vision) I think of and thank this remarkable woman. I have seen her since, especially when I work with my Heart Chakra and Pranayama. She is there with me, breathing, and when I am granted the sight of her I am filled with such joy that it is indescribable. Her photo is on my altar to this day.