A Treasury of Miracles for Teens (6 page)

“I think you’d be proud of me,” he would write. “No, I’m not in school. But I’m living out my dream. Please don’t worry about
me.”

Meanwhile, Brian’s parents could do nothing
but
worry about their son. They had always provided such a steady environment for him, and now he was
a drifter, a roustabout and a fighter. They prayed for Brian daily, begging God to keep him safe and bring him home soon.

In February, after a cold Nebraska winter took its toll on carnival attendance, the Bluebeard Circus folded. Brian had enough
money to take care of himself for a while. But he wanted to return south and didn’t want to cut into his savings by paying
for train fare. Resorting to his former method of travel, he stowed away on a series of trains until two weeks later he was
in Hayti, Missouri.

After a large lunch at a local diner, he considered his options. Returning home would be admitting failure. He wanted to find
another circus, somewhere he could resume fighting. That afternoon Brian talked with local residents and learned that the
nearest traveling circus was about twenty miles south. He knew just the train to take him there, and he hid under the loading
dock near the railroad station’s warehouse, waiting for the perfect moment.

As he crouched in the shadows, he noticed that two locomotives were being hooked up to the train. That meant the train would
pick up a great deal of speed much more quickly than usual. It might even be traveling close to full speed as it left the
station.
That’s okay,
he told himself. He’d jumped on fast-moving trains before. He could do it again. There was nothing to be afraid of.

When the train started to move, Brian ran
toward the boxcar and jogged alongside it. Suddenly, the ground beneath him narrowed and he found himself sprinting alongside
a steep ravine. He looked ahead and saw that the land was about to drop off at a point where the tracks became a bridge. Panic
welled up within him. Why hadn’t he noticed the bridge before? There was no time to think about the situation. He had just
one chance. If he missed, he would fall into the canyon to certain death.

Without waiting another moment, Brian jumped. At first he grabbed hold of the floor of the boxcar, but at the same time the
train picked up speed and Brian lost his grip. He slipped, sliding out of the boxcar and gripping the edge with his fingertips.
His body dangled dangerously over the edge and inch by inch he felt his fingers slip.

“No!” he shouted. “Please, God! Don’t let me die here!” But Brian knew there was no way to survive the situation. He was seconds
from plunging over the edge of the canyon—seconds from death. The muscles in his arms were burning.

Everything his parents had told him in the months before he ran away came rushing back.
We’ll love you no matter what, Son … Stay in school … God has a plan for your life …

At that instant he opened his eyes. Though the boxcar had appeared empty only seconds earlier, in front of him now stood a
tall, well-muscled black man, about the same age as Brian’s father. The man stared at him intently. “It’s time to go home,
Brian.”

Before Brian could utter a word, the mysterious man reached down, grabbed Brian’s hands, and pulled him into the speeding
boxcar. Brian’s sides heaved as he lay facedown on the floor of the car trying to catch his breath.

He closed his eyes and uttered a silent prayer, still stunned that he was alive. God,
you rescued me. How can I thank you? How come I didn’t notice that man before?

Brian swallowed hard and found the strength to lift his head. He needed to thank the man. But as he looked around, he heard
himself gasp. The man had vanished. The boxcar was completely empty. One of the two side doors was closed, as it had been
since the train began moving. He glanced outside and shuddered. There was no way the man could have jumped from the train
and survived. He had simply disappeared from sight. Brian sat down slowly in a corner of the car and began to shiver.

Suddenly he knew with great certainty that whoever the man had been, his message had been right on. Brian needed to get home.
He stayed on the train until it reached New Orleans and immediately returned to his parents’ home.

After a tearful and happy reunion, he told his parents about the man on the boxcar.

“An angel, Son,” his father said as his mother took them both in her arms.

“God was watching out for you,” she said. “See, he brought you home to us.”

Brian nodded. “Things are going to be different now. You watch.”

Brian returned to school that week and a few months later, his faith renewed, he was baptized in the local river. After graduating,
he moved to Southern California where he spent two years working as a professional prizefighter before being drafted. Brian
served in World War II with the Navy. He took part in twenty-eight combat missions in the South Pacific, and after the war
he returned to New Orleans, where he became a minister with one of the largest congregations in the city.

Never again did he see the black man who rescued him that terrifying afternoon. But Brian is convinced that his father was
right. Not only did God have great plans for his life, but he assigned Brian a guardian angel to make sure those plans would
be carried out.

“My entire life would be different if it weren’t for that single afternoon,” says Brian, whose faith and love for God is always
evident these days. “I was a teenage boy with no direction, and God used that angel not only to save my life but to change
it into something that could glorify him forever.”

K
rista Barrows loved to shop. Even more, she loved that these days she could drive to the mall by herself. No more waiting
on friends for rides, no more begging her parents if they’d take her shopping. Just after her seventeenth birthday, she’d
bought a used Toyota, and now, with her parents’ permission, she was free to shop whenever the need arose.

In fact, life was just about perfect that Christmas season. She attended North Bay High School in San Francisco, where she
played flute in the marching band and had recently had the lead role in the school’s fall drama production. North Bay was
small and Krista knew just about everyone. She was a junior and could hardly wait for her senior year.

It was a week before Christmas and Krista needed to do some shopping. She wanted to buy presents for her parents and two brothers,
and something
small for her teachers. Then there were half a dozen close friends who planned to exchange gifts with her. But the present
she was most excited to find was an engraved picture frame for her boyfriend. The two knew each other from their church’s
youth group and they’d been friends for years. They’d only started dating in the past few months, but Krista wanted to find
him something special for Christmas.

As she drove to the mall late that afternoon, Krista ran through the things she needed to find. As much as she loved shopping,
she hoped she could finish buying for her list before the stores closed.

The hours passed quickly, though, and Krista still had three more presents to find when the mall announced it was closing.
She picked up her pace. How had it gotten so late? She hated being at the mall when it closed, not just because it made her
feel rushed but because it wasn’t safe. Her parents had warned her just that afternoon.

“If you’ll be out late, take a friend.” Her mother had patted her hand, her smile warm and gentle. “Mall parking lots are
dangerous after hours, especially during the holidays.”

The warning rang through Krista’s heart as she headed for the cash register. In ten minutes she’d made it through the line,
gathered three bags in her arms, and dug through her purse for her car keys.
Hurry, Krista,
she told herself. Why hadn’t she brought her mother’s cell phone? That way she
could at least call and tell them she was on her way. They were probably worried sick about how late she was out.

Outside, Krista walked across the dark, cold parking lot, still fumbling for her keys. Lost in her search, she barely noticed
in her peripheral vision something move up ahead near her car. Finally her fingers wrapped around her keys and she looked
up. The parking lot was nearly empty. Why had she parked so far away? She glanced about, her heart beating faster than before.
Then she picked up her pace.

In daylight, she might not have worried about her safety in such a situation. But now, in the pitch dark and all alone in
the parking lot, Krista was suddenly frightened. Trying to stay focused, she took quick steps toward her Toyota, opened the
door, and climbed inside.

Suddenly, a masked man appeared a few feet from her window. His eyes were wild and he was pointing a gun at her. He took a
few hurried steps toward her car, and motioned for her to open the door. With trembling hands, Krista locked her door and
tried to start her car. Nothing happened. The man banged his gun against her window as Krista turned the key again. Again,
silence. The engine was completely dead.

“Please, God!” she whispered. “I need your help!”

The man smashed the gun against her window another time, this time cracking the glass. Closing
her eyes, Krista tried once more to start the car, and finally the engine turned over. In an instant, Krista slammed the car
into gear and sped off, leaving the man in the shadows.

Krista cried the entire way home. What had the man wanted from her? And how long had he been waiting by her car? Even stranger,
why hadn’t her car started the first time she turned the key? The engine was in perfect condition, according to their family’s
mechanic.
Whatever happened back there, God, thanks for getting me through it.

She was still shaking when she pulled into her driveway, shut off the engine, and headed up the walkway. A shudder worked
its way through her as she imagined the things that man might have done if he’d been able to break her window and get inside.
Still feeling weak, she made her way inside. There she tearfully shared the incident with her parents.

Immediately, her father called the police. When he’d made a report, he turned to Krista. “You’re safe now,” he told her as
he hugged her tight.

“But I thought …” Krista’s crying became sobs.

“God was looking out for you, honey.” Her mother reached out and took her hand. “He helped you get away … I have no doubt
about that.”

Krista’s father cocked his head. “You say the car wouldn’t start?”

“Right. It was weird, Dad. It was like it was broken or something.”

“Let’s go take a look at it.” Her father grabbed a flashlight and led the way back outside to where Krista’s Toyota was parked
in the driveway. “I can’t understand why it would have done that. The mechanic just checked it out a few weeks ago.”

“I know. I thought it was strange, too.” Krista stood beside him, her knees still shaking from the close call with the masked
man.

Her father opened the hood and aimed the flashlight inside. For a long while he stood there, saying nothing. Then he took
a step back as the flashlight fell slowly to his side. His eyes were wide, his mouth open.

“What’s wrong?” Krista looked from her father to the car and back again.

“It’s impossible,” he muttered.

“What?” Krista moved closer, looking under the car’s hood.

“There.” Her father pointed the flashlight once more at the engine. “The battery is gone.”

“What?” Krista was confused. “Can a car run without a battery?”

A strange chuckle came from her father. “That’s just it. It’s impossible.”

“So how did I … “ Krista’s voice trailed off.

Her father shook his head and lifted his eyes to hers. “Don’t you see? Someone set you up. While you were shopping, someone
took your battery and then waited for you. They knew you wouldn’t be able to start your car and …” Her father stopped
mid-sentence and Krista guessed he was imagining what the masked man had intended.

“It’s impossible,” he said again.

“I don’t understand,” Krista said. She was more confused than ever, and terrified at her father’s discovery. She had been
set up and yet somehow she had escaped being attacked. “If the battery is gone, how did the car start, Dad?”

“That’s what I mean. There isn’t any way to start this engine without a battery.”

Chills made their way down Krista’s spine and she reached for her father’s hand. “What are you saying?” she asked softly.

“I don’t know. I can’t explain it. Somehow you made it home without a battery. It’s impossible.”

Suddenly Krista felt a peace wash over her. “Could it be God was watching out for me?”

Her father’s eyes widened and a knowing look came over his face. Slowly, deliberately, he stared up at the star-covered sky.
Krista followed his example, and for several minutes they gazed into the night. Finally, her father broke the silence. “God,
we may never understand what happened tonight,” he whispered. “But we are eternally grateful. Thank you.”

W
hen her mother presented her with the idea, Ashley Payton was anything but excited.

“Wyoming!” she whined, her hands in the air. She was a nineteen-year-old minister’s daughter who had grown up in Southern
California. Beaches, sunshine, and city life was something she took for granted and enjoyed. “I hate country life, Mom. There’s
no way I’m going to Wyoming.”

The plan, her mother explained, was for Ashley to meet up with one of their church friends in Wyoming, where she would join
an eight-member Christian singing group called Alive. If the week in Wyoming went well, she could travel with the group across
the country, visiting churches for one year.

“It’ll be good for you, Ashley.” Her mother sounded confident. “At least think about it. You’ve been looking for a way to
get out of town, haven’t you?”

“Out of San Bernardino, yes. But I was thinking
something more like New York or Chicago.” She huffed hard. “Not Wyoming.”

But secretly, Ashley’s mother had her thinking. Hadn’t she always wanted to sing on tour? Was this trip—even if it started
off in Wyoming—God’s way of letting her have her dream? Ashley pictured herself standing in the spotlight, singing for thousands
of people every night. She was blonde with brown eyes and her voice easily rivaled any of the professional recording artists.
Maybe this was the break she was looking for.