My son is learning to drive. I often have him drive me to Church Sunday mornings. The roads usually aren't too crowded. While we were driving, my life was flashing though my mind as happens when one puts ones life at mortal risk.
While in the car with Devin at the wheel, I was remembering when my older brother Tim was a new driver and driving the family station wagon up Ogden Canyon on family vacation. You know the station wagon with the wood panels. The road up Ogden Canyon was narrow, and windy, with a sleep cliff up on one side and a steep ravine down the other side into a stream at the bottom.
I think I was maybe 7-8 years old at the time and seat-belts were almost unheard of. Families typically just piled into the family wagon. On this occasion I was in the way back and not strapped in. A couple of drunk men driving a dodge duster were swerving and coming the other direction. I had been facing forward looking over the rear seat. And I then remember feeling the impression to lay down. I did, and then the next thing I remember is a collision and my mother screaming "my babies, my babies!".
Everyone was okay, except for one of the gentleman in the other car which had flipped over. The passenger had been ridding with his hand out the window resting on the top of the car which had gotten cut up. In the end we went back to Ogden, rented a van and enjoyed the rest of our vacation without incident.
The universe is a violent place, and this small miracle and others like it are reminders that none of us would make it without God's influence and preservation.