Ana Williams from Johannesburg, South Africa
My husband, Luke, and I had decided to do some renovations on our house. Our latest project was installing concrete ceilings in our 12-year-old son Bernard’s room. Workers installed a metal framework, then smoothed wet concrete over it. That night, we suggested that Bernard stay in his sister Sammy’s room while the ceiling continued to dry, but he didn’t want to. So we put the kids to bed, each in their own room, and turned in.
Crash! I jerked awake in the wee hours of the morning. Oh, no. I thought. The ceiling collapsed!
Luke and I ran to Bernard’s room and began scrabbling through the debris that covered our son’s bed.
“Mom?”
I spun around. Bernard stood in the hallway, clutching his sister’s hand. I hugged them both. As it turns out, Bernard said mosquitoes had been bothering him, so he’d relocated to his sister’s room before the collapse.
We’d had mosquitoes in the house on occasion over the years, but it was rare. And they’d never troubled Bernard enough to wake him up and cause him to flee to his sister’s room. It was more than mosquitoes that saved my son that night. It was the One who sent them.
Alice Muschany from Wentzville, Missouri
I was rushing to get my three young I kids out the door on time for school. Planning ahead for dinner, I put the deep fryer—to make French fries—on the counter.
We headed to the car. “Jump in, it’s open,” I said. After making sure everyone was buckled in, I went to grab my keys out of my purse. But where was my purse? Still on the kitchen table? It was unlike me to leave behind my bag; I always checked to make sure I had it before leaving the house.
With a sigh, I hopped out of the car and ran to our neighbor’s house to retrieve a spare set of keys I’d left with her. Luckily, she was still home. I headed back toward our house. When I opened the door, I was met with a wall of smoke.
Coughing, my chest tight with panic, I rushed to the kitchen. The deep fryer on the counter was belching smoke. In my haste, I must have absentmindedly turned it on! I rushed to unplug it and opened the windows to clear the air. I made sure everything was in order before leaving again. Being on time was no longer a priority. As I slid back behind the wheel, I said a quick prayer of thanks for uncharacteristically misplacing my purse. Who knows what would’ve happened if I hadn’t gone back inside to get it?
Terry Munson from Havre, Montana
It was a scorching hot day at the It farm where I work, and the boss had me move some tractors back to the main farm.
The temperature was pushing 100 degrees, and I was drenched in sweat when I started up the engine on an open-top tractor with “heat-risers,” a canvas framework that blew heat onto the operator to keep him warm. Perfect for cold days. Terrible for days like today.
I drove along the shoulder of the gravel county road cutting through farmland. I’m not sure if I passed out from heat exhaustion, but one minute I was awake, and the next I wasn’t. I came to after the tractor had veered off the road, as it bounced over the lip of a roadside ditch, throwing me out of the operator’s seat. I’d kept one hand on the steering wheel, but my feet were hanging off the back of the machine. I couldn’t reach the throttle to stop or even see where I was going. The tractor turned in a big circle while I struggled. Then the engine stalled and shut off. Shaken, I climbed down and inspected everything. Nothing was damaged.
As I got my bearings, I realized that while I’d been trying to stop the tractor, it had gone through a fence, but missed all the fence posts. It had made a half-circle around a telephone pole before stalling. Somehow I’d missed every single obstacle and stayed safe—though I’m quite certain that someone other than me had been driving.
