69: A Voice in the Fog

69: A Voice in the Fog

From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Angels and Miracles

A Voice in the Fog

If you have a mom, there is nowhere you are likely to go where a prayer has not already been.

~Robert Brault

I’ve always had a “lead foot” when it comes to driving, but that night the fog was so bad that even I was creeping along at twenty miles per hour. I had just gotten back from vacation and was determined to drive to my boyfriend’s house.

My mom didn’t want me to go. She had a “bad feeling.” I knew she was nervous because of the bad visibility on the narrow, twisting country road to my boyfriend’s house. Even though Mom was notorious for her gut feelings being right, because I was twenty years old and knew everything, I went anyway.

About halfway there I regretted my decision. This fog was no ordinary cloud vapor; it seemed a white impenetrable cloak. I couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of my car, and sometimes, not even the edge of the road. I was disoriented and merely guessing if I was coming upon a curve or not.

I wanted to turn around, but there were only a handful of farms on my route, and I couldn’t see any lights or landmarks. The road wasn’t wide enough for a U-turn and I had no idea where I was. I might have passed his driveway and not realized it.

I slowed to a crawl, not daring to stop, not daring to go faster. Going forward was all I could do. It was terrifying. I lifted prayers without words, comprised entirely of emotion. At any moment I expected a car to hit me head-on. I suppose it was good that no cars passed, but it made me feel all the more isolated.

As I crept along, a tall shadow emerged from the fog — I saw a wide tree close to the road’s edge and suddenly I thought I knew where I was. I recalled one hairpin turn that had a huge tree sitting at the middle of the bend. The tree I was thinking of was near a pasture that had a gate with a little driveway leading to it. If I made it to that gate, I could sit in the driveway and wait for the fog to lift.

All this flashed through my mind as I slowly turned my car, trusting my memory that I was at the tight curve, because I really couldn’t tell if the road curved or not.

Suddenly, I realized I was not at all where I hoped. There was a steep embankment right in front of me!

I yanked the wheel hard, overcorrecting, and spun out of control. I skidded off the other side of the road, through a fence and down a steep incline. With a hard bump, the front of my car hit the bottom of the hill.

I sat for a minute and assessed my damages. I seemed to be unhurt. And the car still worked when I revved the engine, although the rear window was making a rattling noise. It seemed to have been shaken loose by the impact.

But now what? I was in the middle of a field. But maybe I could find a gate and get out. I drove on through the tall grass, hearing it scrape against the undercarriage of my car.

Suddenly, like someone speaking straight into my head, I heard a clear, calm voice say, “You should get near the fence, because you never know what’s in a field.”

I slammed on the brakes. Had I really heard a voice? I got goose bumps. But, getting closer to the fence made good sense, so I made a ninety-degree turn back up the hill, seeking a gate that would let me out of this field. All I found was an unbroken barbed wire fence.

I parked and carefully climbed over that fence. And then I heard shouts—voices outside my head this time. Three orbs of light approached me through the fog. Three men reached me, out of breath. They all started talking at once: “We saw you go through the fence . . . We thought you’d stop, so we could help you. We started yelling and running as fast as we could.”

And then: “What made you turn and head back up to the fence?”

I answered reluctantly; afraid they’d think I was crazy, “Well, it was like a little voice in my head said, ‘You should get near the fence because you never know what’s in a field.’ ”

They were shaking their heads in disbelief. They assured me that no matter who was talking to me it was a good thing I paid attention.

I sucked in my breath, shocked at what they said next: “You were about two feet away from driving right into the pond. You would have drowned. That pond is pretty deep..”

It seemed unbelievable. We all agreed it was amazing that a voice warned me just in time to miss the pond. The men didn’t want payment to fix their fence — they were satisfied helping me get back on the road; elated to not be fishing my body out of the water. By the time I got back in my car the fog was starting to dissipate, but the men walked along beside me, helping me navigate out of the field. As they guided me to their driveway, they showed me where I could have lost my life.

My tire tracks stopped a few feet shy of the edge of the pond. I remembered that loose and rattling rear window, and realized my car would have filled with water faster than normal. I probably wouldn’t have made it. I thanked God for answering my mother’s prayers — the ones I was sure she started as soon as I left the house that foggy night. And I thanked Him for the mysterious voice that saved me.

~Lorraine Furtner

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