It's a good thing most people don't have to go to the extremes Sharon McGinley went through to see, I mean really see, the light.

A near-fatal accident will do that to you.

But you get the sense that McGinley would go through it all again, surgically screwed-together spinal cord and all, if it meant giving her enough courage to start Eddie's House, a transitional program designed to support kids who have aged out of foster care.

"Before," says McGinley, "I would stand at the plate, but I wasn't willing to take a swing."

Before, McGinley, 49, and her husband, Joe, senior vice president of investments for United Bank of Switzerland, lived a good life, a lush life, really. The Ardmore couple worked, played hard, and did their share of good deeds that frequently landed them on the society pages. They hosted plenty of charity events at their mansion and sat on a respectable number of boards.

Then came the accident.

In 1993, the sailboat the couple had chartered in St. John in the U.S. Virgin Islands ran aground, sending Sharon flying and severing her spinal cord.

"I remember going to this awesome place and not wanting to come back. Peace and happiness filled my body," she recalls.

She believes she left the earth, only to return again - with a heightened sense of purpose.

Which propelled her to start Eddie's House.

"Because I wasn't afraid to die, I realized I had been afraid to live," she says. "What was I waiting for?"

Place to call home

Now in its second year, Eddie's House provides apartments, furnishings, and money for young people referred to her until they can independently establish themselves. They're expected to continue their education or look for a job, and have two years to stabilize themselves.

"We're giving them what they need, like our parents did for us," McGinley says. "Don't we want to know that when our car breaks down, we have someone to call? They had no one to call.

"This is like saying, 'I've got your back.' "

McGinley sponsored three people last year. One, Donna Smallwood, now works for her as a life-skills coach.

"My own experiences have helped me help other people," says Smallwood, 30, now a wife and mother of four who helps new residents with settling into their apartments, paying bills, and searching for a job.

McGinley got the idea for Eddie's House (www.eddieshouse.org) through her work with the Support Center for Child Advocates, a Philadelphia nonprofit that does pro-bono work for neglected and abused kids. Over the years, she listened to former clients, as they gathered for monthly meetings, talk about what happened to them.

She already knew what would likely occur once 18-year-olds aged out of foster care: 25 percent wind up homeless because they have nowhere to live, and 50 percent of the young women end up pregnant.

But what stunned McGinley was the feedback Smallwood and others gave her about the unspeakable abuse they suffered in foster care - and the endless shame that paralyzes and prevents them from moving forward even as emancipated adults.

One of the people in that group was a young man named Eddie Lewis. His life was downright brutal.

The abuse started early and often: Lewis and his brother, beaten mercilessly with a bed slat and starved by his stepfather while his mother stood by in tacit approval. Taken out of his birth mother's home, only to endure the same horrific treatment by his foster mom - this time with a stick.

Beaten so ruthlessly that by the time he turned 21, Lewis' kidneys had all but shut down.

Even though McGinley offered to help get him on dialysis while he waited for a transplant, Lewis didn't care whether he lived or died.

He didn't think he was worthy.

McGinley says she named her program Eddie's House "because I thought Eddie was going to die on me.

"I didn't want him to be here for nothing."

Reason to live

Working with McGinley has given Lewis a sense of purpose.

He has spoken to bar associations, Congress members, and schoolchildren, raising awareness about the stigma that comes with being a foster kid - and the potential dangers.

"I don't have words to explain how important meeting Sharon was for me," Lewis says. "If anything, she's letting me live my dreams of helping a child. And you know what the good part is? Whether they know it or not, they [the children] need me."

Now 31, Lewis undergoes dialysis three times a week, five hours at a time. Doctors told him that if he lost 100 pounds, he'd get put on a transplant list. He's already lost 125. On Wednesday, his doctor put him on the list.

Nightline is following Lewis' progress for a future show.

"It will spread a lot of awareness about dialysis," Lewis says. "But I would much rather it be about the [foster] kids. I want to be the voice of the kids, but not so much the face."

He understands now that speaking up for kids who live in the shadow of abuse is his calling.

"I didn't die," he adds, "so maybe it's because I wasn't meant to."

Lewis and McGinley both.

Contact columnist Annette John-Hall at 215-854-4986 or ajohnhall@phillynews.com.

Read her work at http://go.philly.com/annette