I think I was nine years old at the time.
I was on a family vacation to the great city of Chicago.
Circumstances found me, standing in the middle of the highway, close enough to put my arm out and touch a bright red car driving at least 45 miles per hour down the highway.
I was with other people at the time. Adults actually, but somehow no one was holding my hand. I did not know that you could stop in the middle of the road, in the middle of the white dashed lines.
So I kept walking. Unsure of what I was doing. Later they told me that they were yelling at me to stop walking. But I never heard them.
I just stopped, paused for a minute, and the car flew by.
It was one of those days you never forget.
The day you almost die.
Ever since then, I have known that my life has meaning and purpose. I was saved that day for something greater.
I love to remember this day because each time I do I am reminded that my life has meaning and purpose. That I was saved for a reason.