Might be too late but I'll post it anyways!
In high school I was well known as an atheist due to writing papers about it and even questioning others about important religious/moral questions (looking back now not my smartest moments). Moving into college I went to a private Christian school where I was a part of religious groups and had bible classes, but even that did little to sway me from my personal beliefs. I felt like I was living a "Christian like" life without all the benefits of an immortal afterlife. I was completely willing to give my life to God, but I needed some kind of proof. I needed something I could look at and see his work.
After my first year of college with little changing in the way I thought, a friend and I decided to go on a road trip! Just two young men on the road, blazing at... 10mph. We took bicycles (and if you want to do the same, head over to r/bicycletouring!) This was going to be an amazing adventure full of beautiful sites and brand new cities, but in reality we were ill prepared for life on the road. From day one we realized how hard it was to find a safe place to camp in a city, the money we'd have to spend on food, and the large amount of time we'd need to spend on the road to make it to our destination each day before nightfall. This road trip wasn't supposed to be a soul searching journey or anything more than a stupid kid's grand plan, but it seemed God finally planned on showing me his work.
The trip didn't start off with the best of situations. We slept in a baseball field, had flat tires, tornados and hail, and that was only in the first 24 hours... If this continued, we were definitely heading back home soon. And these problems did continue, but not without showing us the saving grace or graces of the whole trip. People. Tire problems? I'm sure a family of cyclists will show us how to fix them. No place to stay? How about the Harley bikers drunk on their porch. Need food money? Here's a 20. Need a ride to the next town? Hop on in. Out of water? I have some right here! For the first week I chalked these up to good luck. We just so happened to be in the right place at the right time. We met the nice people. Luck was on our side. But at the end of the first week we found ourselves in a Mexican church being prayed to by hundreds of people, and this is when I knew it wasn't luck. With this realization hitting me like a ton of bricks, I began to tear up a bit as the prayer went on. "No one will notice," I told myself, but after the prayer as we sat down again, the lady sitting behind us handed us 10 dollars. "Oh thank you, but we're ok. We don't need it," and she slowly took it back. Turning back around though, we saw two people in front of us handing us money. At this point there was no stopping it... I just start crying. Nearly every person in the place is coming up and handing us the little they have and all I can do is say "Gracias" and shake their hands as I'm balling my eyes out. We stumbled out of the church with over 200 dollars stuffed in a plastic bag and after getting back to camp I just passed out. From that point on everything just seemed a bit less scary. I knew it wasn't just my friend and I who had to watch for traffic, or keep an eye on camp. I knew we'd make it through, and we did.
All I wanted from God was some proof. A, "Hello I'm here watching, don't worry :)," would have been enough for me, but sometimes I guess he just has to show off to get your attention.
TL;DR- road trip turned into me crying in a church.