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Hope
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.
It was eleven o'clock in the morning, and my blood alcohol level was twice the legal limit for the State of Tennessee. My ten-year-old daughter was in the front with me, and she escaped serious physical injury, but her emotio...
Then it got to where I was breaking into her house. Then I started buying checks from people, and forging people’s names on everyone else’s checks. Then the burglaries began.
"The first time I heard my dad say he loved me, I was in jail.
"He’s freed me from drug addiction. He’s freed me from suicide. He’s restored my life completely."
On the way to jail, God asked; "Are you willing to serve me?"
