There was a lot of alcoholism, and my mother denying that my father was an alcoholic. I married an alcoholic just like dear old dad. I began drinking at that point. As his drinking increased, mine increased. I was working for a doctor, one of the patients saw me bruised up, and prayed with me in the room where we did our therapy. She told me to come live with her and said that she needed me in her life and that I needed to be with her instead of in my abusive relationship.
I could hear her praying for me through the floor, and it was very powerful. I was sitting in the basement crying, having a pity party, saying, “Why me, again? Why don’t I learn my lesson? Over the years my sister had sent me tracts from her church, but I had never read them. I had them in a bag, in a shoe box, in a drawer. I had brought them with me. I thought, “I can’t throw them away. That would be sacrilegious.” At that moment of prayer, I got that shoebox out and started reading those tracts. I knew that God loved me no matter what. And He loved me unconditionally. All those things didn’t matter anymore. I started crying. I remembered, probably from a movie, I needed to get as low as I could get. I felt like a worm. So, I laid on the floor with my arms out, and my arms and hands out flat on the floor. I just started weeping, trying to make bargains with God, even though I didn’t know if that was the thing to do. The first thing I said was, “If you’ll just take this desire to be drunk away from me. Let my mind be clear, and I’ll do anything. I’ll follow you anywhere.” I felt that desire leave me through my arms and my legs. I felt like a different person and cried my self to sleep on the floor. I was cold in the morning when I woke up. I felt totally fresh and couldn’t wait to go upstairs and tell her. She introduced me to her best friend who was Jesus Christ. It’s never been the same.