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The Chicago neighborhood I grew up in was a friendly place, but ever since I was a little girl my mother had warned me not to accept rides from strangers. Still, one
frigid day when a man in a truck offered a lift, I climbed aboard.
I knew the moment the door slammed shut that I was in trouble. It was something about the way he looked at me. “You passed the grocery,” I said meekly. “Please stop.” He said nothing. “I want to get out,” I said.
“Don’t touch that door!” he ordered. The truck speeded up. From his coat he drew forth a knife and skimmed it along my leg. “Any noise out of you,” he warned, “any noise at all and…” He made a violent dagger gesture.
I could hear myself screaming inside, but no sounds were coming out of my mouth. Our Father, Who art in Heaven… I began silently saying the Lord’s Prayer… hallowed be Thy name…
The truck turned into an alley and stopped. I fumbled for the door handle. The man reached over and pushed the door open so swiftly that I fell out. I tried to get up to run, but he was there standing over me, and I saw the knife again. Thy will be done…
Down the alley I heard running steps and wild yelling. The man leaped up. A policeman jumped on him as a woman picked me up. “Are you all right?” she kept saying to me. And then, “Thank God that I heard your screams.”
But no sound had come from my mouth. Except in my head, there had been no screams.
This is just one of the exciting true stories from the book, His Mysterious Ways
R. Rachelle Page Acts 16:31