For the past, I don't know how long, my church has been encouraging us to write our personal faith stories. I finally finished mine. At least the abbreviated version of it. Here it is.
I grew up in a Christian home. When I was 6 years old, on Easter Sunday, I asked Jesus to come live inside my heart. I remember praying with my brother in the backseat of the truck with Mom while I was in the front with Daddy. I’m not saying my life’s been easy. It hasn’t been. When I was 11, Daddy died. Thankfully, I’ve had wonderful role models in my life who stepped in to fill the gap of being a dad to me. My brother went through cancer when he was in college. I’ve seen how God has always been there for me and my family through every little thing. My brother’s been cancer-free for over 15 years. All of the needs we had while growing up were met, sometimes before we asked or even really knew what was happening. The church family would frequently give my mom a check or an extra meal or something like that. As I grew up and went off to school, I had an open-door policy with the girls in my dorm. They knew that I could be called upon at any hour of the night and I’d come and pick them up if they were too drunk to drive or needed someone to listen to them without judging them. The girls knew I was different by the way that I lived my life.