“Dad, please don’t go!” Lyric’s desperate plea echoed through the air.

The five of us found ourselves stranded on a cross-country road trip from Michigan to Alabama after an unexpected hiccup at a rest stop. The fuel gauge revealed the unpleasant truth – our gas tank was bone dry. The nearest gas station mocked us from a distance of 2.7 miles. Panic set in as my dad, ever the problem solver, suggested hitchhiking along the main road. Unfortunately, Michigan’s rules forbade thumbing rides on the main arteries, leaving us in a precarious situation.

To our surprise and relief, or perhaps dismay, no one seemed willing to pick up a weary traveler on this busy highway. The minutes ticked away, and our desperation grew. The prospect of my father attempting to hitchhike amid speeding cars intensified our anxiety. Seeking solace, I bowed my head in prayer, silently pleading with the higher power to spare us from such a perilous journey.

Then, with a resolve that bordered on madness, my dad declared, “I’ll run there.”

“What!” Emmanuel exclaimed, mirroring the incredulity that ran through us all.

Fear enveloped me. The image of my father sprinting alongside speeding vehicles haunted my thoughts. In a silent plea, I prayed for divine intervention, urging the Almighty to spare us from this dangerous escapade.

As Dad embarked on his impromptu marathon, we watched him disappear into the distance, our hearts heavy with concern. Fifteen agonizing minutes later, a knock on the car window interrupted our collective worry. A stranger stood before us, offering a lifeline in the form of a question: “Do you need some gas?”

My mom, cautiously optimistic, exited the car to engage with our unexpected savior. The stranger explained, “Your husband asked me for a ride. I initially declined, but a nagging feeling compelled me to help. So, I headed to the nearest gas station, bought some fuel, and here we are. I hope it’s enough to get you to the gas station.”

Relief washed over us as my mom expressed gratitude. When she inquired about payment, the stranger insisted on goodwill, wishing us luck and nothing more. With the car humming back to life, we left behind our mysterious benefactor and resumed our journey.

We soon reunited with Dad on the highway, sharing the miraculous turn of events. While filling up the tank, I recounted the story from my perspective. Gratitude filled the air as Dad chuckled and said, “I am so glad I have praying kids.” The collective power of our prayers had turned an impossible situation into a testament of unexpected kindness and divine intervention.