Proof The Bible Is True

At the end of my first semester of college, my dad and two of my high school friends drove from our hometown in Ashtabula, Ohio, to my school in Richmond, Indiana, to pick me up and drive me back home for winter break.

 

When I saw Dad’s car pull into the dorm’s parking lot, I felt a flicker of fear. Don’t worry about the dream, I told myself. Dad will be driving for sure. The car was Dad’s pride and joy. It was the first new car he’d ever bought and only three years old. I grabbed my bags and walked down to meet them. My friends jumped out and gave me big bear hugs, joking around and laughing. Dad was the last to greet me with a solid handshake and a tired smile.

 

“Why don’t you drive?” Dad said. “I woke up early. You’ll be fresher than me.”

 

I stared back at him dumbly.

 

“Something wrong?” he said.

 

“No, I’m fine,” I assured him.

 

But my hand trembled as he handed me the keys

 

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