Driving to work on the freeway recently, I was in the 2nd lane from the left on a narrow, four-lane stretch of highway with nothing but a concrete wall for a median and a narrow shoulder.

A compact, two door red car was in the far left lane. (Not a recent model’s version of a little car. This was a 1980s 2-door hatchback version of a small car).

Another car in front of me moved into the left lane, apparently not seeing the little red car that occupied the space. The red car slammed on his brakes and I saw fumes from burning rubber as he spun out of control.

He was right in my path.

I slammed on my brakes, but my only chance to avoid him was to move one lane over to the right. I did so, without any notion if there was someone approaching from behind.

Fortunately there wasn’t.

Of course all of this was happening in slow motion. My next thoughts went to the little red car.

I didn’t have time to formulate an eloquent prayer. All that could come from my mouth was the word Jesus.

Over and over again as I watched the car spin out of control, then watched helplessly as it came to rest sideways in the fast lane, facing the concrete wall on a freeway with a 65mph speed limit.

I said the name “Jesus” over and over again. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. I then said, “Jesus, get him out of there.” I realized my heart was racing and that adrenaline had kicked in.

The little car soon disappeared from view as I rounded the corners of the perimeter highway. I was moving quickly away from him, not knowing if he was OK. I called my husband to tell him about my almost accident. I hung up with him and continued to shake and cry.

I moved into the far right lane and drove just above the speed limit, hoping to see the car catch up with me and know it was OK. I thought about calling 911, but what would I tell them? If something unpleasant had happened after I drove away, they would already know about it.

I continued driving slowly, and the farther I got from the scene, the less hope I had of seeing the car and knowing.

I was merely one mile away from my exit when I saw a compact little red car come in behind me. He moved in to the exit lane in front of me. We both took the exit ramp, me to the left and him to the right.

The word “Jesus” is often used as a cuss word with the intent to shock and awe listeners.  Those who use it in this way have one part right: there is power in that name!

Image courtesy: Imagebase.net

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