Driving on a snowy two-lane highway, I swerved to avoid something in the road.

My car launched off a snowbank, flew eight feet in the air, and struck a telephone pole at 55 miles per hour.

At that moment, I felt an undeniable presence—arms wrapping around me in a bear hug, holding me to my seat.

When the car landed, two men appeared, yanked open my door, and pulled me to safety.

They looked like ordinary New Hampshire locals—flannel shirts, Carhartts, and baseball caps.

But when the police interviewed me later, I learned the truth: those men were the Ainsworth brothers, who had tragically died in the same spot five years earlier on their way to get pizza.

That day, I walked away unscathed, but I knew my life had changed forever.

It was divine intervention—a second chance to live fully aligned with my purpose and share my gifts with the world.