I got a phone call at 10:50 a.m. today. On the other end was my offspring's friend. She told me that a drunk driver crashed into the front of her house, rattled the stairs, broke the stove, and nearly killed her grandma who was sleeping in the front porch. The friend said she woke up at 4:00 a.m. to police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks. Thankfully everyone is o.k. About ten minutes after she called I walked down the street to check it out. There were tire tracks and broken car parts strewn all over. And the eavestrough was bent and crooked. The bricks of the house were barely touched. Surely angels must have been watching!
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