After I was born in Philadelphia, my mom brought me home to Elyria so we could live with her dad. The first three years of my life were spent there, just the three of us. It was there when I first heard God’s call, at the age of two or three years old. It might seem young to you, but I know that it was while I lived with my grandpa that I believed Jesus died for me and the words to the song “Jesus Loves Me” rang true in my heart.
Before I reached my fourth birthday, my Grandpa died. It was heart breaking, but I believed that he was with Jesus and I believed that I would see him again some day.
After he died, I remember we had to move out of his house. My mom and I then moved into a nearby apartment complex. I was four years old. Everything was good. I vividly remember standing in the kitchen of that apartment with my mom and thinking, “God thinks we are special. In fact, I know I’m very special to God and He’s going to use me to do great things.” (If you’re an only child, who had a doting parent, then maybe you can relate to these types of thoughts) Like Joseph from the Bible, the favorite son of his father and the only son of his mother, I had no issues with self-worth.
Little did I know that my world would soon come crashing in on me.
Continue reading “God’s Little Fighter – My Story”