The day I knew my life had a purpose

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.

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