One afternoon, Mother had taken us all to town for a doctor's appointment. We returned by taxi. When the cab pulled into our driveway and we all climbed out, Mother told me to hold onto my three-year-old sister's hand. But Kathy didn't want to take my hand and ran around behind the cab. In the confusion, Mother didn't notice until the car began to back up. She glanced around to make sure all the children were out of the way.
"Where's Kathy?" she asked, a note of panic in her voice.
She glanced under the cab as the rear tire headed right for my sister's head! "Oh Jesus!" she screamed.
She shouted for the driver to stop and watched in horror as the wheel reached Kathy's head.
At that moment, the tire jump up over Kathy's head as though lifted by an unseen hand.
Mother and the driver both ran back to find my sister on the ground, dirty and crying, but apparently not seriously hurt. "Oh thank You, Jesus!" Mother cried.
Mother picked her up and said to the taxi driver, "You'd better take us to the hospital to get her checked out." As she climbed back into the taxi, she said, "I hate to leave you children all alone, but this is an emergency. AnnaLee, you're in charge."
We were all so scared, not so much of being alone but about Kathy's condition, that we went right upstairs and stood in front of the window that overlooked the driveway, where we stayed, huddled together, whimpering and praying. It seemed like forever before Mother and Kathy returned. The doctor pronounced her unharmed. Mother told everyone that the hand of God lifted that wheel over her head so it wouldn't crush her.
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