I'm 15 years old, and this morning I was confirmed. I pronounced my faith and couldn't help thinking back to how it all began. Many people have been powerful influences in my life. I can't say which one is most important. But I know I couldn't have been confirmed without three unsung saints--and my parents.
My grandmother got things going. We would sit in a
room with a single light on. I'd sit on her lap and ask her questions
like "Who made all the animals?" and "Who made me?" I asked only her my
curious questions, no one else. As she explained things, getting out
her Bible and reading me passages, my mind woke to Christ's divinity. I
began paying more attention to the children's sermons Pastor Steward
gave in chapel. And I actually listened to the words in our fun
children's hymns.
Sixth grade was my hardest year at Bethel
Lutheran School in Encino, Calif. I injured my eye and had to wear a
patch for several weeks. I wondered, "How can God do this to me? What
did I do wrong?" I grew timid as my classmates' reactions to my patch
were less than polite.
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