God has been with me since I was a child. I was raised by atheist parents who did not allow the name of God to even be spoken in our home. We were taught that all religion was nothing but another way to make money. I didn’t even know

what God was all about. I had no idea that He was our maker and our salvation. I thought it was just another pretty story that people talked about. I had never heard of Jesus at that point. I had been physically, emotionally and sexually abused beginning at five years old by friends and relatives of my mother and she blamed me for all of it. When I was nine years old, I tried to cut my wrist but failed to cut deep enough. I thought I was going to lie in bed that night and die. I was terrified of living and I was terrified of dying. I was crying silently so my mother could not hear me. I remember how hard it was not to scream with racking sobs. I was perspiring and my body was shaking as I tried to hold back the agony of it all. If my mother heard me, I would get another beating. I did not know what prayer was so I did not realize that I was praying. I looked into the blackness of my room. The darkness was a welcome shield where I could think anything I wanted and no one would know. I said, "God, if You are real, Please God. Hold my hand." I am now 50 years old and I still remember that moment like it was happening here and now. I cannot tell this story without tears welling up in my eyes. My precious, beautiful, wonderful God gently slipped His hand into my right hand that night. He cared about a troubled nine year old girl who had lost all desire to live in a world where no one cared. From that moment on, I knew there was a God and my parents nor anyone else could not convince me that He was not real. We lived two houses down from a first Baptist church ,and I used to sneak into the church to listen until I was found out.

The pastor, Brother Langley, came to see my mother. I got into so very much trouble that day, but it did not stop me!. I was very rebellious when it came to God. Brother Langley was persistent. He never stopped coming by to check on me and my family. I was saved that year and Praise God, so was my mother.