In August of 1980, my wife and I drove to town to meet my brother, who owned a flatbed truck. He was going to assist me in picking up a small shed to convert into a playhouse for our sons. I chose to bring along my eldest son, Paul, who was two years old. My wife suggested taking both boys for some father-son time, but I preferred not to manage a baby while acquiring the shed.
On my return, I spotted my wife's car at the grocery store. I felt compelled to stop and take my nine-month-old son, Josh, with me, even though my wife would soon be heading home herself after her shopping.
Gleneva was teaching her brother to drive a manual transmission, so he was at the wheel. At that time, there were no laws mandating seat belts or car seats, and we often held babies on our laps.
They were less than a mile from home when her brother took a corner too quickly, failed to downshift, and collided with the guardrail, flipping the car into the creek. Despite the total loss of the vehicle and shattered glass, my wife and her brother emerged only wet and unharmed.
Had I not heeded the voice of God and picked up my son Josh, the outcome could have been tragic for him. It's likely he would have been ejected from the window or trapped under the car. I remain grateful for listening to that divine guidance on that day.
Testimony – Paul V. Lundmark
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