It was “Thanksgiving Day”, 1985, my family and I were traveling to spend the holiday with family, in the San Francisco Bay Area. The weather was exceptionally nice for traveling. It was perfect for spending some quality time together as a family. We were traveling from Salinas, California, more specifically, John Steinbeck’s corner of the world.

It was quite a busy morning as we all prepared to leave for our trip. L.C. one of my younger sisters had been visiting with us since the end of my pregnancy. Candice my youngest daughter had just turned two months old. Dee my eldest daughter was eleven and in the sixth grade. For the moment: there was breakfast, baths and showers, ironing and so much more to do to get ready.

Just as we neared San Jose, I became aware of a Spanish couple desperately attempting to get their brown station wagon started. They were busy trying to push start it from the right shoulder of the freeway. The woman was closest to traffic and the man was on the far right side of the vehicle. Our car was four or five lanes to the left on the freeway, as I continued to watch in disbelief, the station wagon began to maneuver on its own.

The woman was in a state of horror as I could plainly see… She was being maneuvered by the station wagon--across this very busy freeway; clenching to the driver’s door—never falling—yet, being dragged in somewhat of a standing position. …As she neared our moving car, I looked in the rearview mirror and at the surrounding traffic. There was no way I could prevent an accident without us all possibly being killed, including this woman.

Momentarily, turning to look at my daughter Candice who was so very beautiful, as she slept, tucked securely in her car seat. In a moment of time as I looked upon her angelic face--I said a prayer. Not remembering later any words that were said or uttered; just knowing that my faith and hope in God was ignited.

I looked up to see this woman directly in front of my car, her face portrayed a look of horror; that froze a picture in the depth of my memory, as I shall never forget. With little effort she could have reached over and touched the hood of my car. Time had miraculously stopped: Had angels unaware shielded us from death; was it predestined for us to meet; or had our prayers coincided and reached the throne of God?

In a brief space of time, I truly believe God interceded on our behalf. Because as we both (the Spanish women and I) looked directly into each others’ eyes, I no longer had control of the steering wheel—and about half a mile up the freeway (still in a state of shock) my ex-husband, Will, had managed to calm me down enough to direct me to pull off the freeway.

We had all made it safely that day, by His Love and His Grace. “Thanksgiving Day”, took on a completely new meaning, a time of Miracles, Prayers, Praises and this is My Life In Him.

Note. Almost two years later, I willingly gave my life to the Lord and my life has never been the same. I have been an Evangelist for (19) nineteen years, in a variety of offices, passionately serving the Lord with an increasing passion to win souls for my Lord and Savior. The Spanish woman on that San Jose freeway, on that “Thanksgiving Day”, in 1985, I have never had the privilege of meeting. However, I’m convinced that God worked a miracle in both of our lives that day; that we would be a living testimony and to share with others about His Love and His Grace. I, firmly, believe without a doubt that when our journey is over and our works here are complete; that we will meet once again, face-to-face; in God’s presence—In His Love and His Grace…