This account is about the surest time I have ever been about seeing an angel.
I was headed west on Washington Avenue one day, at an even thirty miles per hour. Suddenly, an old man stepped off the curb and walked slowly into the street in front of my car. He bent over and picked up a craggy old board that looked like it was about 12’‘ by 4’‘ by 3/4’‘, and it had a big spike stuck all the way through it. The old man sauntered back towards the curb carrying the spiked board, like he had all the time in the world. He turned toward me, smiling sweetly, and, holding the board up and showing it to me, he stepped back up onto the curb. The whole time that I’d watched this frightening bizarre scene play out, I never had time to even consider stomping on the brakes! Yet, somehow, there was room for thought—and there was no doubt whatsoever in my mind that I was going to run this guy down. But it didn’t happen: I passed that spot unimpeded. Though my intellect was telling me that this was all impossible, I’m sure an angel can bend space and time. And had that board been left in the street, I would’ve run over that spike, and the resulting blowout would’ve been catastrophic.