Healer/Communicator Asia Voight on how tragedy put her back in touch with her intuition and the healing power of love.
Photographed by Skip Resenhoeft, sharpexposurephotography.com
"Watch out, Mia!” I shouted. Sensing danger, I leaned forward from the back of my 1980 Chevy van as we flew down the highway. Craning my neck to see the busy road ahead, my heart pounded in my chest as I braced for impact.
“Hold on everyone! I’m slamming on the brakes!” Mia yelled as she gripped the steering wheel. Focusing intently on the cars slowing at the bottom of the hill, her foot slammed on the brake pedal. As the tires reverberated, we held our breath and hoped they had one more stop in them.
It was December 28, 1987, the second day of driving from Wisconsin to Florida. There seemed no other choice for me than to drive away from the pain of rejection. Seconds after I said the words, “I’m a lesbian,” the dream of my mother’s acceptance died as she clutched the Bible to her chest instead of me. The freezing Wisconsin winters, like the hearts of my family, compelled me to spur my three comrades into driving through the night. And yet all I could hear was my mother’s shrill response, “God will punish you and you will go to Hell. I’ll pray for you.”
Here on the road, I wondered, How will I ever be free of this internal struggle to be okay with who I am without my family’s acceptance? I feel trapped inside my shell of fear and shame. Does God really hate me?
Falling onto her captain’s chair, Mia’s stocky body finally rested. The van’s bumper had managed to stop within an inch of the car in front of us.
“Good job, Mia!” We cheered. I turned and smiled to my girlfriend, Lisa. We were an unlikely couple. She was a punk with street smarts and I was a cheerleading honor roll student. We’re going to be okay, I thought, as I collapsed in relief. I so appreciate this moment. However, it didn’t last.
The windowless van hid the site of the oncoming semi barreling down the hill like a rolling tsunami. His stone-filled trailer sped with uncontrollable momentum. Slamming into our van, the whiplashing power propelled me into the floorboards. Flinging clothes, bedding, and suitcases off of me, I managed to stand. Lisa and I frantically tried to open the van’s doors. The metal, gnarled and twisted, would not budge.
I heard Mia screaming, “Hurry! Get out! There’s fire!” Urgency turned to panic as I watched the van’s interior fill up with smoke. Startled, a figure appeared before me. I looked in awe as this glowing being adorned in robes of maroon, grays, and blues stood urging me on. “To the front of the van and hurry,” he said in a deep strong voice. “Out the window,” he continued. Without him saying so, I knew this was my guardian angel.
I made my way through the flames, and we were all rushed by ambulance to the hospital. In the intensive care unit, with massive burns on 72 percent of my body, lacerations, and a fractured collarbone, I reluctantly gave the nurse my parents’ phone number. When they arrived, the doctor told them that with severe muscle and nerve loss, I would most likely never walk again. My legs were completely paralyzed. Given a 3 percent chance to survive, it was unlikely I would make it out of the hospital alive.
“We’re starting a prayer chain for you,” my mother stated at my bedside. A tracheotomy with a respirator kept me unable to speak. My eyes grew wide and my brow furrowed. What will they pray? That I stop being a lesbian? Or will they ask God to lock this lesbian in Hell?
On the threshold of death for months, every breath became precious. Behind closed eyelids, I imagined myself as a deep-sea diver plunging through the waters of my congested lungs looking for life. I insanely feared death and the haunting afterlife that waits for a lesbian like me.
The day I feared arrived. The alarm on my respirator blared out through the halls as the entire staff dove on me. “Code Blue!” A web of tubes and arms collided in front of my face. My breath gone, my eyes frantically searched for a way out. A door that did not exist a moment before appeared. Crossing the threshold of the ethers into a stunning starlit universe, I could stand and my body was healed. Three teachers who called themselves “ascended masters” warmly greeted me. In this beautiful tranquil expanse, I began sobbing. Remembering my family’s vehement disapproval, I instinctively thought, They must not know I’m a lesbian or I wouldn’t be here in this lovely space.
Smiling and telepathically knowing my thoughts they said, “We know you and your heart. It is not an issue for us that you love another woman.”
“Really?” I said as I stopped crying in amazement.
“What about all the Bible passages that this is a sin?”
They gently shook their heads saying, “They’re missing the point.”
“Oh, well, what is the point?”
“What we and God desire to know is: How have you given?”
“I don’t know. What does true giving feel like?”
They sent me a shimmering, glowing, white and pink light that filled every cell of my being with love and joy.
“That was incredible! Compared to that amount of giving, I’ve been sharing this much …” I held up my thumb and forefinger with an inch of space in between them as I scrunched up my face in embarrassment.
“You’ve been living in fear. Return to earth and choose love. The angels, spirit guides, animal helpers, God, and we are with you. You will have many moments of remembering and forgetting that you are loved. Practice awareness, and your moments of living in love will increase.”
The wondrous giving energy that I had felt moments ago was instantly replaced with immense apprehension when I thought about returning to Earth. Because of my deep religious upbringing, I had doubts that God loved and accepted me unconditionally.
Smiling, my spirit teachers knew what I needed. Beside them appeared a brilliant cascade of greens, purples, and whites more spectacular than the Northern Lights. The light was God. It said, “My child, let us dance and play. Rejoice in the splendor all around you.” I was shown what resembled the glowing red, orange, and burnt yellows of the Grand Canyon, when the Light said, “You are this beauty. You are everyone and everything. I love you.” My heart opened in joy and I knew this to be true.
Finally at peace, I returned to the spirit teachers. Their recommendation was to re-awaken my childhood ability to talk with animals and to use my intuition to help others find their direction in life. Reluctantly, I hugged them goodbye and returned to my painfully wounded body.
Back in my bed, I felt the prayers of giving people thinking of me. I no longer feared this support. Their prayers and affirming words gave me the energy to continue to improve. Miraculously, I healed and within weeks walked out of intensive care proud and immensely grateful.
Asia Voight is an internationally known Intuitive Life Guide, Animal Communicator, Intuitive Business Strategist, Teacher, Inspirational Speaker, and Author. Asia connects with animals on a soul level to help resolve emotional and behavioral issues and assists them in deepening their bond with their human companions. She also helps people reconnect with their own intuitive and healing abilities, potential, and life’s purpose. Asia’s work has been featured on ABC, NBC, and Fox TV. She recently had her own successful Hay House Radio Event reaching thousands of people all over the world. She has graced the covers of publications such as Brava and Women Magazine, and the front page of the Wisconsin State Journal. Asia is a newly published author in four soon-to-be-released books. Two of them were written with New York Times best selling authors, Jack Canfield and Dr. Brian Weiss. For more information, go to AsiaVoight.com