One Easter Sunday, in 1981, my family went to a Baptist church. There was an “Altar Call” and I felt the nudging to go up there. I was 7 years old, shy and didn’t go. But I kept thinking and thinking about it even as we drove home from church.

When we got home, I told my father that I wanted to get saved. He took me aside and we read some scripture. (Romans 10: 9-10)

“…if you confess with your mouth, "Jesus is Lord," and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you confess and are saved.”

So my father asked me if I believed in Jesus, if he was my Lord, and that God had raised him from the dead. I said “yes.” Then we prayed together.

While we were praying, and I accepted Jesus into my heart, I felt a flood of warmth wash over me. It started from my head and moved down to my feet. I couldn’t stop crying.

My dad was concerned, He didn’t know why I was crying and I told him I was crying because I was happy.

This too, like the Angel I had seen a year earlier, was a faith-building experience for me.