“Slow Down!” Ensign, Aug. 1998, 60–61
In my home in Brisbane, Australia, I was washing floors one hot Wednesday afternoon when my telephone rang. It was my boss, who owned a snack bar where I worked on a part-time basis.
“Barb,” he said hurriedly, “Pam has gone home ill and I desperately need someone to help me out over lunchtime. Can you come over?”
After saying yes, I hurriedly changed my clothes and bundled my children into the car. As I raced across town, unexpected words formed clearly in my mind: Slow down.
I hesitated only slightly. But again the words came to me: Slow down! I applied the brake.
“Why are you slowing down, Mom?” asked my older son, Stephen.
“I don’t know, but I have a strong feeling I should,” I replied.
About three minutes later as I was rounding a sharp bend in the road, the passenger door swung wide open, and my four-year-old son, Nathan, tumbled out onto the road. I braked sharply and jumped from the car. As I went racing back to pick him up from the road, I knew in my heart he would be all right. He was shaken badly, and his head, arms, and legs were grazed, but that was all. I later discovered that while I was driving, Nathan had unclipped his seat belt.
I reflected upon the other three occasions when his life was spared: he had been on a life-support system for 10 days at birth, he had been run over by a car, and he had fallen 76 feet and landed on concrete without great injury. Yes, this son had truly been preserved by the hand of the Lord.