I was a college student in Illinois that Thanksgiving, and I couldn’t wait to get home to Massachusetts for the holidays. A friend’s mother offered me a lift as far as upstate New York, where my parents were going to pick me up.
Mrs. Case and I drove all through the chilly night. Just after sunrise on Thanksgiving morning, the engine quit and we rolled to a stop on a deserted highway somewhere in western New York.
Mrs. Case said calmly, “God doesn’t get you just halfway. Let’s pray, Richard.” After we prayed a little, she turned the key again.
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