By Morgan Hill
Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.
~Proverbs 3:5
I was twenty years old in 1973, living in Kansas City and working two jobs to support myself while attending college. A year earlier I'd been forced to quit Stephens College in Columbia, Missouri due to lack of funds. When an invite came to return to my former college town for a party, I jumped at the chance to reconnect in Columbia.
It was November and I got on the road after Friday's work shift around 8 or 8:30 p.m. for the two-hour drive. The plan was to spend Friday night in Columbia at a local hotel, look around town the next day, and attend the party Saturday night.
My 1963 Corvair convertible was not air tight, so turning on the heater really helped with the outside cold. Ironically, I'd have to roll down the windows to let fresh air in because the smell of gas fumes permeated the car once the heater was on.
It had snowed earlier that day, but roads were clear and driving was nothing out of the ordinary. I had the radio cranked up loud, singing along, enjoying a beautiful moonlit night. About an hour into the drive, I hit an unseen patch of ice that seemed to take complete control of the car.
My high school driver's ed training had taught me to gently pump the brakes when in a skid (anti-lock brakes were nonexistent), but to no avail. The car spun. Then it swerved head first into a ditch dividing the four-lane highway. Simultaneously, the engine died and I was sitting in a car resting headfirst down a forty-degree angle, in utter silence. I was terrified. I was in the middle of nowhere and there were no other cars. I tried a few times to restart the car, but it was dead.
It was freezing cold and all I could see was an empty highway lined with trees, moonlight reflecting on the surrounding snow. To say I was scared was an understatement. I didn't have enough warm clothing to withstand spending the night out there. Cell phones didn't exist at that time. The night could get better or much worse, depending on who (if anyone) stopped to help this lone female stuck in a ditch. To add to my dilemma, I realized no one would even know I was missing for several days.
I sat in the car watching the highway for what seemed like an eternity, hoping a police car would drive by. Nothing. After a while, one or two cars drove past going in the opposite direction. No one stopped. The wind picked up as it made a whistling noise through the slightly tattered convertible top.
I decided to get out and see if there was any place close enough to walk for help. As I opened the car door and carefully stood up on the frozen ground, I looked in every direction to see nothing but snow, trees and a darkened, empty highway.
I didn't have snow tires and would not be able to grab enough traction to get out of that steep ditch, even if my car started. I got back in the car, berating myself for being so stupid. Why did I drive so late in the day? Why did I risk an old car in this weather? Why didn't I tell someone where I was going so that if I didn't show up they'd know to look for me?
I took a deep breath and began to pray. "God," I said. "I'm in trouble. Please, please help me to be safe and get out of this." I cannot remember the rest of my prayer, as I'm sure it turned into babbling at some point. The night grew later, the wind grew stronger. I was getting really cold.
After praying, I sat in the car doing nothing, thinking nothing... just sitting, staring at the wheel and the snow-covered ditch beyond the hood.
What happened next is hard to describe. But it impacted me enough that I still recall the incident vividly, even though it happened nearly forty years ago. Fear of ridicule prevented me from ever sharing this story with more than one or two people.
It seemed like a presence joined me in the car. Was I losing my mind? There even seemed to be a depression from the weight of someone in the passenger seat next to me!
If someone was there to help me, I needed proof. I could not get past the feeling that I was not alone. Okay God, I thought. If you or an angel or something is here to help me, then I'll test it.
I once again turned the ignition key. The car started right up. I couldn't believe it. But now I feared the tires would just continue to spin, as the snow had become frozen ice. "Okay Lord," I thought. "If I'm not going crazy and you are somehow helping me, I'm going to put the Corvair into reverse and see if I can get out of this ditch." Slowly, the car came right up and out of the ditch, almost as if there was no ice at all.
I backed out onto the highway, put the gear into drive and slowly made my way back onto the road. The radio had shut off when the engine initially died. I drove in silence and could not shake the feeling that there was still someone sitting with me in the car, occupying the passenger's seat.
Needing proof that I wasn't going crazy, I decided upon one more "test." I lifted my hands off the steering wheel. Something took over and was steering the car! I know my car. It needed a pair of hands to maneuver properly, unlike newer power steering in today's models. Someone, or something, was steering my car!
Afraid to "test" any further I placed my hands back on the steering wheel and thanked God out loud for this blessing. I did not see any other cars the rest of the way into town. The "presence" remained until I reached my destination. I did not physically see an angel, but there's no doubt in my mind that I was assisted by an unseen presence that night forty years ago.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.
~Proverbs 3:5
I was twenty years old in 1973, living in Kansas City and working two jobs to support myself while attending college. A year earlier I'd been forced to quit Stephens College in Columbia, Missouri due to lack of funds. When an invite came to return to my former college town for a party, I jumped at the chance to reconnect in Columbia.
It was November and I got on the road after Friday's work shift around 8 or 8:30 p.m. for the two-hour drive. The plan was to spend Friday night in Columbia at a local hotel, look around town the next day, and attend the party Saturday night.
My 1963 Corvair convertible was not air tight, so turning on the heater really helped with the outside cold. Ironically, I'd have to roll down the windows to let fresh air in because the smell of gas fumes permeated the car once the heater was on.
It had snowed earlier that day, but roads were clear and driving was nothing out of the ordinary. I had the radio cranked up loud, singing along, enjoying a beautiful moonlit night. About an hour into the drive, I hit an unseen patch of ice that seemed to take complete control of the car.
My high school driver's ed training had taught me to gently pump the brakes when in a skid (anti-lock brakes were nonexistent), but to no avail. The car spun. Then it swerved head first into a ditch dividing the four-lane highway. Simultaneously, the engine died and I was sitting in a car resting headfirst down a forty-degree angle, in utter silence. I was terrified. I was in the middle of nowhere and there were no other cars. I tried a few times to restart the car, but it was dead.
It was freezing cold and all I could see was an empty highway lined with trees, moonlight reflecting on the surrounding snow. To say I was scared was an understatement. I didn't have enough warm clothing to withstand spending the night out there. Cell phones didn't exist at that time. The night could get better or much worse, depending on who (if anyone) stopped to help this lone female stuck in a ditch. To add to my dilemma, I realized no one would even know I was missing for several days.
I sat in the car watching the highway for what seemed like an eternity, hoping a police car would drive by. Nothing. After a while, one or two cars drove past going in the opposite direction. No one stopped. The wind picked up as it made a whistling noise through the slightly tattered convertible top.
I decided to get out and see if there was any place close enough to walk for help. As I opened the car door and carefully stood up on the frozen ground, I looked in every direction to see nothing but snow, trees and a darkened, empty highway.
I didn't have snow tires and would not be able to grab enough traction to get out of that steep ditch, even if my car started. I got back in the car, berating myself for being so stupid. Why did I drive so late in the day? Why did I risk an old car in this weather? Why didn't I tell someone where I was going so that if I didn't show up they'd know to look for me?
I took a deep breath and began to pray. "God," I said. "I'm in trouble. Please, please help me to be safe and get out of this." I cannot remember the rest of my prayer, as I'm sure it turned into babbling at some point. The night grew later, the wind grew stronger. I was getting really cold.
After praying, I sat in the car doing nothing, thinking nothing... just sitting, staring at the wheel and the snow-covered ditch beyond the hood.
What happened next is hard to describe. But it impacted me enough that I still recall the incident vividly, even though it happened nearly forty years ago. Fear of ridicule prevented me from ever sharing this story with more than one or two people.
It seemed like a presence joined me in the car. Was I losing my mind? There even seemed to be a depression from the weight of someone in the passenger seat next to me!
If someone was there to help me, I needed proof. I could not get past the feeling that I was not alone. Okay God, I thought. If you or an angel or something is here to help me, then I'll test it.
I once again turned the ignition key. The car started right up. I couldn't believe it. But now I feared the tires would just continue to spin, as the snow had become frozen ice. "Okay Lord," I thought. "If I'm not going crazy and you are somehow helping me, I'm going to put the Corvair into reverse and see if I can get out of this ditch." Slowly, the car came right up and out of the ditch, almost as if there was no ice at all.
I backed out onto the highway, put the gear into drive and slowly made my way back onto the road. The radio had shut off when the engine initially died. I drove in silence and could not shake the feeling that there was still someone sitting with me in the car, occupying the passenger's seat.
Needing proof that I wasn't going crazy, I decided upon one more "test." I lifted my hands off the steering wheel. Something took over and was steering the car! I know my car. It needed a pair of hands to maneuver properly, unlike newer power steering in today's models. Someone, or something, was steering my car!
Afraid to "test" any further I placed my hands back on the steering wheel and thanked God out loud for this blessing. I did not see any other cars the rest of the way into town. The "presence" remained until I reached my destination. I did not physically see an angel, but there's no doubt in my mind that I was assisted by an unseen presence that night forty years ago.
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