The church my parents and I attended was having a revival. I was 12 years old. My three sisters were all married and had their own homes.

It was the final day of the revival, a Sunday. As was the custom of that church, we met in our Sunday School Class, did our records, and went to the sanctuary for a service. Immediately following that service was the regular worship service.

My class sat together on the right side of the church. Even before the time for the invitation, I could hardly sit still. My heart was beating so hard, I thought it would explode! The pastor had attempted to talk to me about my salvation one night earlier in the week. I denied being under conviction (a term you don’t hear these days), but I was.

I was in the middle of a group of kids. I felt that I could not pass everybody. Then there were three steps to go down to get to the sanctuary floor. “I might fall.” I began to plan. I would sit in the middle section of the church, on about the third row, on the end of the pew in the next service. I would go forward then.

I saw one of my sisters coming toward the side of the church that I was on. I knew she was coming to me. This gave me the courage I needed. I started moving. We met, we hugged, and I went forward. Those kids or steps were not a problem. I did not hear her say anything, but she gave me the courage I needed to accept Jesus as my Savior. To God be the glory!