Lately, I’ve been longing to go back to place I haven’t been in a long time. I don’t remember the town, I don’t remember the name of the camp, and I don’t even really remember my age at the time. I was young – probably early high school, on some sort of church retreat. It was a weekend full of rest in the Lord and sitting face to face with His truth. I woke up early one morning, before the rest of the campers and I went and sat on a concrete stair outside of my cabin with my Bible. The sun was dawning, the grass was dewy, birds were chirping and the fog was settled around the camp.

And Jesus. Just Jesus. So clearly.

Jesus was there other days. But this morning was special. The position of my heart was ready to receive, and everything else was quiet – which made Him loud.

It was pouring outside and the temperature was dropping so I knew I needed to get on the road soon, but my roommate and I couldn’t seem to stop chatting. I blew off my dad when he called and told me the weather forecast and that if I was going to make the trip to Ohio I better go now.

I figured I would get on the road in a minute.

An hour later I finally made my way to my car to begin my two-and-a-half hour trip to see Brandon. Long-distance dating was the worst.

I drove on that same highway like I had driven a million times before, but this time was different.

I guess the temperature finally hit freezing as I was passing that semi. My car suddenly spun out of control and I saw myself heading sideways into an 18-wheeler at 70 mph.