At Mysterious Ways, we receive many submissions with accounts of miracles on the road. They all communicate the sense that even during the most ordinary of tasks, such as driving home from work or church, we can experience heavenly guidance. Here are three stories that show we’re never alone behind the wheel.
Ken Hall Stow, Ohio
It was Sunday, after church. My two young sons babbled excitedly in their car seats as we inched forward in a line of cars heading out of the church’s parking lot. My wife’s car was still parked; she’d volunteered to stay behind to help clean up. I was driving the boys home first to get lunch started.
I finally got to the front of the line of cars and waited for an all clear, with no traffic coming in either direction. After taking a wide left turn onto the two-way street, I straightened the wheel and got ready to ease fully into the right lane. But my steering wheel seemed locked in place. Or rather, my hands were locked on it in a tight grip. I couldn’t move a finger. A strange heaviness pressed on my hands as if an invisible pair were holding mine down on the wheel. I couldn’t move into the correct lane. Before I could process what was happening, I saw something out of the corner of my eye, something that rushed up behind me and then flew by. A car in the right lane going much too fast. Too fast to have slowed while I was merging. As I now did easily, my hands released from the grip that had spared us.
Beverly J. Letchworth St. Louis, Missouri
I was on my way to my monthly writer’s club meeting one summer evening, a 30-minute drive I’d made many times before. But this time, something felt different. I felt a presence in the car. A very familiar presence. “Dad, is that you?” I asked.
My father had passed away six months before. We’d had a close relationship, and he’d taught me many things. The one thing he never stopped giving me were pointers on safe driving.
“You have to watch for the other guy,” he always told me. “People don’t signal. They cut in and out. Be on your guard.”
I followed that advice now. I continued driving, paying extra attention to the traffic around me, even while I was stopped at the next intersection. A silver car caught my attention. Get away from it, I told myself. When the light changed, I stepped on the gas, crossing the intersection and leaving the silver car behind.
I soon pulled up at my destination. Only after I’d parked and turned off the engine did the presence disappear. Had that silver car actually been dangerous? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that for the past 30 minutes, I’d had the best backseat driver I could ask for.
Helen Abrams Broken Arrow, Oklahoma
Stop. Pull over. The thought grabbed me while I was driving along Highway 412 on my way to a doctor’s appointment. It made no sense. There weren’t any other cars on the road. The weather was good. I knew I hadn’t left behind anything important. And I didn’t want to be late for my appointment. Still, the feeling compelled me. I just couldn’t ignore it.
I slowed the car, glancing in my rearview mirror and switching on my turn signal. I pulled over to the shoulder. What was I waiting for exactly? I looked around; the compulsion left me just as quickly as it had come. I eased back onto the highway, feeling a bit silly.
Not far down the road, I came across the intersection where Highway 412 and Highway 66 meet. There had been an accident! I slammed on the brakes, stopping short of a car that had plowed into a tractor trailer. It had to have happened just moments before. Emergency vehicles hadn’t even arrived.
If I had ignored that odd feeling instead of pulling over when and where I did, I would have been part of the pileup. No doubt.
