The route home to Thunderbolt, a small town on the edge of Savannah, Georgia, was dark with just a few houses. As I was passing Bonaventure Cemetery with its old oak trees, wind was blowing wispy moss dangling from its limbs. Dim lighting distorted eerie shadows, setting the stage for terror on this narrow winding road. I met one car which gave me comfort. Vigilantly I watched its lights as we approached each other, when suddenly, it disappeared. It was then I knew for certain, I was losing my mind. I was so frightened; the beat of my heart shook my body. I sensed my life was in danger and clenched the steering wheel tighter.
The first of Nalley's spiritual experiences from "My God Makes House Calls."
