WOW God Story — That accident... that terrifying, life-changing moment on the highway...

I had accepted Christ as my Savior when I was 8 years old. I knew in my heart that Jesus loved me and that He had forgiven me. But still… something in me longed for more.

I wanted to feel God’s presence - to experience Him personally, not just through my parents’ faith. I wanted a faith that was strong — as strong as my mom and dad’s — one that could stand through any storm.

But you know, faith doesn’t usually grow in easy times. It deepens through the valleys, through the difficulties, through the moments when you have no one to lean on but Jesus alone. Those are the days when trust is born — when hope is refined — when God shows Himself faithful.

That accident... that terrifying, life-changing moment on the highway... was one of those days for me.

I came to the USA from Kyrgyzstan — a small country tucked away in Central Asia — with my parents and five siblings. We arrived with only a few suitcases, big hopes, and an even bigger trust in God. I was just a teenager then.

It was Thanksgiving Day, 2000, when we first landed in Salt Lake City, Utah. I didn’t even know what Thanksgiving was — but that night, sitting around a table full of food and laughter, tasting turkey for the very first time, I felt what it meant to be grateful. We were safe, together, in a new land full of possibilities.

But life in Utah was not easy. In the city where we lived, being part of the Mormon community gave people certain advantages — and we weren’t Mormon. It felt lonely at times, and my parents struggled to provide for us. Eventually, after three years, they made the difficult decision to move to Minnesota in hopes of a better life.

That moving day... it became one of the most unforgettable moments of my life — a story I now call my first WOW God moment.

It started one early morning. My dad and oldest brother went to rent a Penske moving truck. The rest of us packed the house — box after box — with the hope and weariness that comes from starting over, again.

I asked my dad if I could ride with him in the big truck. I wanted to be part of the adventure. He smiled and said yes. My brother would drive the rest of the family in our old van behind us.

As we got on the highway, it began to drizzle. I remember watching the little raindrops on the windshield. I was sitting high up next to my dad, feeling grown up — excited but also nervous about the unknown. Then, suddenly — and I will never forget this moment —I turned to my dad and said, “Dad… we’re falling.” And in the blink of an eye — everything changed.

The truck began to tip. The heavy load shifted. We were going fast — it was the highway after all — and in what felt like slow motion, the truck began to fall onto its side, right where I was sitting.

Behind us, my siblings watched in horror as our truck tipped and skidded across the highway. I can only imagine their fear — seeing their dad and sister inside.

But here’s where the miracle happened — God had His hand over us, LITTERALLY His hand was over us.

At the exact place where our truck tipped, there was road construction. Big concrete blocks were there to divide the lanes —but in front of those concrete barriers stood large orange traffic drums - had they not been there, or had the truck fallen harder, I wouldn’t be here telling this story.  Those big orange drums absorbed the impact and softened the impact and prevented us from hitting the concrete, saving us from disaster.

I truly believe that God Himself placed our truck gently on its side — not violently flipping us over, but as if someone was carefully guiding it onto its side. I FELT IT!!!

My dad was hanging from his seatbelt — and so was I. If I hadn’t been buckled up, I would not be here today — I would have been thrown from the truck and dragged along the concrete. That’s exactly what happened to the small stuffed toy I had with me — it was destroyed.

My brother ran to us, terrified. He broke the window to get us out. My dad climbed out, then they pulled me through the broken glass. I was shaken, trembling — but alive.

And so very thankful.

But the scene was devastating — the truck’s roof had burst open, and all our belongings were scattered across the wet highway. Rain poured down now, soaking everything: furniture, clothes, books, my parents’ hard-earned possessions. Glass kitchen stuff was shattered everywhere. My brother’s prized motorcycle — ruined.

In a moment, we lost 90% of what we owned. Everything my parents had worked for, starting over in a new country, seemed washed away right before our eyes.

Yet... amidst the wreckage, there was also hope. Strangers stopped to help. Someone called 911. Police and ambulances arrived. Someone even brought a huge plastic tarp to cover what they could from the rain. I had a small piece of glass stuck in my wrist — the paramedics gently removed it and bandaged my hand. Someone arranged a hotel for us that night. A kind truck driver volunteered to help us move what remained of our things to Minnesota.

It was a wild and unforgettable journey — but God’s protection and provision were clear.

Later, we discovered another part of this beautiful story. When my dad rented the truck, he’d also paid for accident insurance — even though money was very tight. That insurance ended up covering everything we lost — even the motorcycle, but my brother... he never bought another motorcycle again. It gave my parents enough to care for our big family, to put a small down payment on a home in Minnesota, and to start again.

At that time, I was only 15 years old. I had prayed for a long time, asking God to show Himself to me — to help me know Him for myself, not just through my parents’ faith. That day, God revealed Himself in such a personal and powerful way. That was the day I stopped leaning on my parents’ faith — and began building my own. That was the day I first truly felt the presence of my sovereign God — not just with my body, but with my heart.

He revealed to me that He is real. That He cares. That He has the power to protect and provide, even when we can’t see a way forward.

Now, years later — as a wife, a mother, and a woman of faith — I look back on that day and still marvel. I still have the tiny scar on my wrist. I asked God to leave it there, so I would always remember that His hand was over me.

Even when tragedy strikes — even when it feels like everything is lost — God is there. He makes a way. He carries us gently through the storm.

That day, I learned that prayer is powerful. That sometimes, God answers in ways we don’t expect. And that when you ask Him to reveal Himself — He will. Maybe not the way you thought. Maybe not when you wanted.

But He will.

And what may seem like tragedy... may just be the beginning of your greatest testimony.