My mom was driving our old Minivan down the highway, but it was raining and really hard to see in front of us. We came up to the light that we both dreaded because it was really steep and had red light cameras, so she stepped on the brakes to slow down, just in case. SQUEAK! Nothing happened, and we were accelerating. “Mom!” She stomped on the brakes, over and over. “Megan, pray!” I started to pray that we would slow down. We were both frantic. I knew I was going to die. Only once before had I ever come that close to dying, and I was scared out of my mind. The light turned yellow, and then red. The pickup in front of us stopped at the light. We were forty feet from slamming into him, going 60 miles an hour and accelerating downhill. I held on to the door handle so tightly my knuckles were white. Still downhill, the van started to slow down. The light turned green, and the truck went through. We stopped right at the light and my mom pulled over onto the grass median. It didn’t register to me until later that the light couldn’t have possibly turned that fast. Within 30 seconds of stopping, an off-duty policewoman pulled over and asked us if we needed help. This was before cell phones, or at least before we had any. How could we have stopped downhill, in the rain, with absolutely no brakes? How could the light have turned green within seconds of turning red? What are the chances the policewoman would stop and help in the rain, let alone be in the right place at the right time? God’s grace is the only explanation. God’s grace is the only reason I am alive today. I believe in grace, and I believe in miracles. I am living proof of them.
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