A Treasury of Miracles for Teens (15 page)

BOOK: A Treasury of Miracles for Teens
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His father had entered the conversation then. “Watch your tone, Son. As long as you’re living under our roof you need to show
a little more respect.”

Greg had uttered a few apologies and dashed out the door as quickly as he could. Now it was almost nine and he had spent the
past hour driving the country roads near his Wichita, Kansas, home wondering
what was happening to his life. Wasn’t it just last year that he had promised himself and his parents he’d never get involved
in the party scene the way his friends had? And what about the sports he was involved in? His coaches wouldn’t want him if
he got into drinking and drugs. And coaches knew about those types of things. If the basketball coaches got wind of what he’d
been doing over Christmas break, they could cut him from the team.

And what about God? Where did he fit in this picture? If there was a God—and his parents sure believed there was—then Greg
was bound to be in big trouble. Because God would probably kick him out of the family for doing drugs that past week. But
what if there was no God? What if you only lived your life and then died with no existence, no heaven or hell?

The possibilities swirled through Greg’s mind, leaving him too confused to think straight. He leaned back against the headrest
and drew in a slow breath. Why was he worrying about tomorrow, anyway? The party was probably in full swing by now. At least
if he went there, he could forget about the huge questions banging around in his head. A few drugs wouldn’t hurt him, would
they? And besides, he wouldn’t have to think about his future, at least until the morning.

The longer Greg thought about his situation, the more convinced he became that he should go to the party. “A
Charlie Brown Christmas
…” He muttered
the words out loud. “Like I’d wanna watch that when I could be out with my friends.”

He was about to turn around and head toward the party when suddenly he spotted what looked like a prison guard hitchhiking
along the side of the road. Greg had never picked up a hitchhiker, but something about the man suggested he was on the way
to work and genuinely in need of a ride. The prison was about ten miles down the road, so it made sense. Maybe the guy’s car
had broken down.

Greg pulled over and rolled down his window. The man stooped down and looked inside. His eyes were a kind, gentle brown and
his smile looked harmless.

“Need a ride?”

The guard nodded. “Thanks. I was hoping you’d stop.” His words were slow and carefully measured. “Car’s broken down.”

“You work at the prison?” Greg motioned down the road. In the recesses of his mind he questioned what he was about to do.
His parents had always told him not to pick up hitchhikers. But there was something trustworthy about the man—something Greg
couldn’t quite figure out.

“Yep.” The guard angled his head so he could see Greg better. “My shift starts in five minutes.”

“Get in.” Greg unlocked the door. He hadn’t seen any broken-down cars alongside the roadway, but the man seemed kind enough.
Greg was not
afraid that his hitchhiking might be some kind of ruse to rob or harm him.

As the man climbed inside, Greg glanced over and saw he was well into his fifties, with graying hair and a moustache. Somehow
his face had a glow about it, even in the dark of night. His prison guard uniform was perfectly pressed, and he seemed strangely
out of place in it.

“What’s your name?” Greg picked up speed and headed toward the prison.

“Ralph. Ralph Michaels. Worked at the prison for the past ten years.”

Greg was silent a moment. The man beside him seemed unusually calm and relaxed, considering he was late for work and traveling
with a stranger in an unfamiliar car after a breakdown of his own.

After nearly a minute, the prison guard turned toward him, and again his face was full of light. “Now, why don’t you tell
me what’s on your mind?”

Greg was unsure what to make of the man, but he shrugged and started telling him his age and what he was studying in school.

“No,” the man said softly. “Tell me about the crossroad.”

Greg stared at the man, wondering how he could have known to ask such a question. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. You have some choices you’re trying to make, don’t you?”

Greg felt strangely uncomfortable, as if the man
could somehow read his thoughts. But he shrugged once again, convincing himself that the man could not possibly have known
anything about his personal life. The stranger was only lonely and looking for conversation.

Still, Greg felt like talking. With a loud sigh, he began to tell the man the truth. He told him about his upbringing and
how his parents prayed for him daily.

“But I’m different now; that kind of life is in my past.” Greg waved his hand, his tone filled with frustration.

“No.” The man’s voice was sudden and firm. Greg looked at him; he was shaking his head. “That kind of life is closer than
you think.”

“You’re a prison guard. What would you know?” Greg was suddenly irritated. His beliefs were none of this man’s business.

“I do know.” The man’s answer was not defensive or angry, but he spoke with a finality that set Greg on edge.

“Look … I don’t know who you are, but yeah, okay. I’m at a crossroads. I’ve been good all my life and now I want to find some
things out for myself.” Greg peered over at the man. “Know what I mean?”

The man said nothing. He stared straight ahead for several minutes before turning again toward Greg. “There’s only one right
way. You know that, right?”

“Look, I’m tired of talking.” The prison had just
appeared on their right, and Greg pulled over. His tone was abrupt but he didn’t care. He had a party to get to. “Where can
I drop you off?”

The man smiled, his attitude unchanged by Greg’s rudeness. “This is fine.” He turned toward Greg once more. “Make the right
choice, son. Now. You still have the chance, you know.” He climbed out, shut the door and paused. “Besides … A
Charlie Brown Christmas
isn’t so bad, is it, Greg?”

“No—” A strange sense of awe and wonder gripped Greg’s heart. “No, it isn’t.”

The man winked. “I didn’t think so.” Then he turned and headed up the long driveway toward the prison.

As Greg pulled away he was stunned by the encounter with the man. How had an old prison guard known his name? Greg couldn’t
remember ever saying it. Or telling him about the Charlie Brown special. For a moment Greg wanted to turn around and follow
the guy, spend more time talking with him and glean something from the wisdom he seemed to possess. But the night was late
and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to go back home. If he was lucky, maybe his parents hadn’t started the Charlie Brown
movie yet.

Through the night and into the next morning Greg thought over everything the man had said. How had he known so much? And why
would he have been hitchhiking to work when he lived so far
from the prison? There was something else, too. A sense of relief stronger than his need for air. Because of the prison guard,
Greg had avoided going to the party and taking drugs. In fact, the entire party scene looked suddenly dangerous and, well,
crazy, really.

All because of a few minutes with a stranger.

Finally Greg decided he needed to talk to the man once more. He called the prison from his bedroom later that afternoon. “I’d
like to speak to Ralph Michaels. He’s a prison guard.” Greg wondered what exactly he would say to the man, how he could explain
the changes in his heart in the past few hours.

“Hmmm.” There was a pause on the other end. “I don’t believe he works here.”

Greg furrowed his eyebrows. “Of course he works there. He was going to work last night and I gave him a ride. He had his uniform
on.”

“Well, I can let you talk with my supervisor, but I’ve got the employee list right here. There isn’t any prison guard named
Ralph Michaels at this facility.”

“Fine.” Greg could feel his frustration rising. “Let me talk to your supervisor.”

The supervisor spent ten minutes convincing Greg that there wasn’t now and never had been a Ralph Michaels employed at the
prison. Greg described the man and the place where he’d dropped him off outside the prison. “Maybe he works under a different
name.”

Again the supervisor was quick to disagree. “The guys working last night were in their twenties. There was no one on duty
like the man you’re describing. Besides, we have background checks— we wouldn’t let anyone work under an assumed name.”

At Greg’s request, she also checked the other prison facilities in the state, but none of them employed a Ralph Michaels either.

Stunned, Greg hung up the phone. The man had ridden with him for ten minutes, giving him subtle advice about his life and
trying to point him in the right direction. Now he had disappeared, almost as if he had never existed.

Later that night, Greg told his parents about the experience.

“Sometimes God gets our attention in interesting ways.” His mother’s voice was quiet and kind. “Did you ever think that he
might have been an angel?”

“An angel? Like in the Bible stories?” Greg felt his heartbeat double.

“Why not? God is still God, and his ways aren’t so different now than they were back in Bible times.”

For several weeks Greg considered the possibility, until finally he was convinced that his mother was right. Ralph must have
been an angel sent to guide him through a time in his life when he had crucial
choices to make. How better for God to get his attention than with a prison guard, especially in light of the choices he’d
been making up until that point.

Almost overnight, Greg decided he would no longer involve himself in drinking or all-night parties. Instead, over the next
year he doubled his efforts toward school and sports and began attending church again. He found a peace and assurance he had
never believed could exist. Eventually Greg earned a degree in telecommunications and went on to serve as a reporter for one
of the television news shows in southern Florida.

One of his first feature assignments? “Angels among us—true stories of God’s miraculous presence today.”

Invisible Protection

F
or the first time ever, Mia Parsons and her friend Tanya Andrews were going to spend New Year’s Eve with a hundred thousand
people in downtown Pasadena, California. Excitement didn’t come close to describing the way they felt. It was the chance of
a lifetime, proof that they were finally growing up.

Never, not once, did either girl think the trip could cost them their lives.

In fact, they were seventeen that year and thrilled that they were old enough to celebrate New Year’s Eve at the all-night
party preceding the annual Tournament of Roses Parade along the streets of Pasadena. When morning came, the two friends would
watch the parade and then return home.

The girls and their parents believed the plan was both simple and safe. They would travel together in Mia’s car and set up
alongside a dozen other friends who would also be lined along the parade route.
The girls didn’t drink and would easily avoid the alcohol-induced revelry that would be going on around them. Besides, their
group of friends were good kids, part of their high school’s local Young Life club. They’d have plenty of fun without drinking.

Mia was not concerned about the party-types who would surround them on the parade route. Her only hesitation was Tanya. The
girl was a new friend and had only been attending Young Life for a few weeks., Mia wasn’t completely sure how crazy Tanya
might get out on the parade route. But whatever happened, she intended to set the pace. That way Tanya would know her limits.
And regardless of how crazy things might get around them, Mia did not foresee any problems.

At first the night went as planned. She and Tanya met up with their Young Life friends and found a place along the parade
route. The group laughed and danced to the music that filled the street from all directions. Despite the darkness, crowds
of people walked along the parade route dressed in flamboyant attire, waving flags and shouting greetings of “Happy New Year!”
Others openly tilted champagne bottles and beer cans while hooting in preparation for the approaching midnight hour.

Although Mia and her group would not be drinking that night, they had met some teens on a
blanket beside their group who would be. She silently hoped none of them would get sick or hurt. The thought passed quickly
and Mia began enjoying herself and the mood of the celebration around her.

About that time a small man walked past Mia and her group of friends. Abruptly he turned, set his eyes on Mia, and slowly
approached her. As he reached her, he handed her a yellow sticker that read “Jesus loves you.”

“Thanks.” Mia smiled as she took the sticker. “He loves you, too.”

The man nodded and gave Mia a calm smile. Then he turned away and proceeded down Colorado Boulevard.

“That was strange.” Mia pulled Tanya aside.

“What?” Tanya looked around, confused.

“That man I was talking to.” Mia pointed to the sticker on the sleeve of her shirt. “He just walked up and gave me this.”

Tanya shrugged. “It’s New Year’s Eve. You never know who you’ll meet down here tonight.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Mia gazed down the street, but the man was no longer in sight. She smiled. “At least it’s true. The sticker,
I mean.”

“Enough about the sticker.” Tanya grabbed Mia’s sleeve. “Come on. Everyone’s waiting for us.”

As the girls returned to their group of friends, Mia dismissed her thoughts of the man. The evening progressed,
and people began cruising Colorado Boulevard in their cars, greeting those lined along the parade route and lending their
music to the party before moving slowly along the street. Mia and her friends joined in the fun, waving to the people in the
cars. It was more fun than Mia had dared to hope and she could hardly wait for midnight.

An hour later, the cars lined up along the boulevard were bumper to bumper and barely moving. At about that time, a pickup
truck with two good-looking young men pulled up in front of the girls.

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