“Eventually we were taken back to talk to the EMT’s who had brought our daughter to the hospital. To our amazement – and theirs – they told us that while the car had knocked her down and passed completely over the top of her, it appeared that neither the wheels nor the undercarriage had hit our daughter.”

Last spring I was working at home when I received a call from a number that I did not recognize. I let it go to voice mail. The same number called again so I decided it might be important and answered. On the other end of the line I heard a strange female voice asking me if I had a daughter, who was an Indiana University student. When I answered in the affirmative, the voice told me that my daughter had been run over by a car while walking on campus and that she was going to the hospital in an ambulance.

My wife and I got into the car and drove across town to the hospital, fearing the worst and yet trying to hope for the best. We offered short, pathetic prayers as we went. When we got to the hospital we were told that we would have to wait. Our daughter was being assessed. In the ride over we called the mystery number back and asked for more information. The young women explained that our daughter had been walking across the street in a cross-walk and that a car stopped at the stop sign there. While our daughter was in the middle of the street, the car suddenly accelerated, knocking her to the ground. She repeated that the car had “run over” our daughter.

Eventually we were taken back to talk to the EMT’s who had brought our daughter to the hospital. To our amazement – and theirs – they told us that while the car had knocked her down and passed completely over the top of her, it appeared that neither the wheels nor the undercarriage had hit our daughter. When we finally saw her, we rejoiced to discover that she really did seem to be ok. Terrorized, bruised, and cut but whole. One of the nurses took me aside and said, “We see a lot of these situations and very few of them turn out like this.”

By the grace of God our daughter’s life was preserved. We can attribute it to nothing except His mercy. Months later we were able to meet the driver of the car. I looked under the front axle. There was less than a foot of clearance. How our daughter with a backpack on her back had fit under the car without being hit or crushed or dragged remains a complete mystery to us. We take comfort in knowing that it is not a mystery to Him Who holds our lives in His hands.

Sometimes the difference between life and death is only a matter of inches or seconds. We may narrowly escape. We may not escape a close call. There is only one way to live with that uncertainty and that is by knowing the One Who watches over His people and Who rules over every atom in the universe. I thank Him that He spared my daughter’s life on that day. I thank Him even more that my daughter belongs to Him and that He loves her more than I ever could.

“I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come?  My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth.  He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber.  Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep” (Psalm 121:1-4, ESV).

Richard Holdeman is the pastor of the Bloomington Reformed Presbyterian Church in Bloomington, IN. This article is used with permission.