Proof The Bible Is True

As an artist, I’m a keen observer—I always note the details that make each individual unique. But there’s one portrait I’ll never be able to paint.

Twenty-five years ago, my husband and I were hauling our trailer down from Omaha to Holiday Island, Arkansas, for vacation when the transmission blew on our ’87 Chevrolet Suburban. We pulled to the side of the interstate. “Let’s flag down a car,” my husband said.

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