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As I lay bruised and bleeding on the side of Interstate Highway 10, watching the taillights of the semi fading into the distance, I thought, so this is how God answers prayer. Less than forty hours earlier, huddled under an overpass of I-95, shivering in the cold spring rain, I’d prayed these words, “God, I don’t know where I’m going but I trust You’re going to take care of me.” It was the first time I’d prayed in over five years but I was feeling desperate, a minor illegally...
