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Faith In The Forge

Be careful — this is the one I almost didn't tell.

6 a.m. Saturday. Dark. Seventy-five miles an hour on I-35. And out of nowhere, a man steps into the middle of traffic in front of my car.

There is no reasonable explanation for how I got around him — or how the truck behind me missed him, and missed me. Three people should not have driven home that morning. All three did. Time bent, the moment passed, and by the time I had the wheel back, my exit was right there.

And it isn't the first time. Years ago, in a hospital bed, I watched the crash cart come in from somewhere above my own body — and…

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