I want to share a bit of my faith journey with a community that has embraced me for 68 years. I did not come to understand the glory of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit overnight. Oh no. It took me 72 years, a whole lot of stubbornness and a few spiritual two-by-fours to the head.

My story with God started when I was 6. My parents were divorcing and I was this tiny little thing trying to make sense of a world that suddenly felt upside down. One day, I was crying on my bed and I felt this warmth — like someone wrapped me in a hug I did not have to ask for. I did not know the words “Holy Spirit,” but I knew love. I knew comfort. I knew I was not alone.

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