Proof The Bible Is True

Our car’s highbeams cut through the darkness of Maryland’s rural Route 50, heading westbound toward home. It was only 9 PM, but no other cars were around. Trees lining both sides of the road blocked out the moonlight, and the area was so sparsely populated, not even a streetlamp could be seen.

 

What a spooky stretch this route could be this late in the year, when the crowds no longer flocked to the beach. We should have left earlier, I thought. We would have had time to visit our friend in the nursing home and could have taken the interstate back from there, instead of this lonely road.

 

We were returning from our beach house in Ocean City, about three-and-a-half hours from our home. Now that we’re retired, my husband, Charles, likes to check on it every couple of weeks, making sure the gutters are clear, the roof is not leaking, the patio is clean and the yard and the cherry trees are well cared for.

 

Even in the fall, we love to go down and watch the crashing waves. But we’d gotten too caught up. Before I knew it, the sun was setting. “It’s too late to visit the nursing home,” I lamented. A missed opportunity to see a friend.

 

Up ahead, our headlights lit up a figure walking alone along the road. Who would be out here in the dark? As we got closer, I saw it was a young woman, approaching a car parked haphazardly on the right shoulder. We zoomed past. “She may need help,” Charles said. “You make the call—should we go back?”

 

Read More: Mysterious Ways: On the Lonely Road | Guideposts