Find
Hope
Bam! They hit me in the face with this metal baseball bat. They asked me again; “Give us your money! Give us your money!”
I was really trying to explore and find out if God, if God was real.
I was moving around twenty, thirty, sometimes forty pounds of marijuana a month. I was eighteen years old. I had money. I had friends.
My husband helped me a lot. He cried. He prayed. When I would go back out and do wrong again he would come looking for me. He would forgive me.
It was around the half way mark of my 62 days that I literally fell on the floor, knees on the floor, put my head down on the bunk, and said, “God, I’m yours.
Where I’d prayed for everyone else for so long... I had ignored the fact that I did need God.
I’m cool with being a janitor right now. I don’t know about the rest of my life.
