When I think back over my life, I think God knelt and kissed me on my forehead when I was very young - this to say my life has been touched by Him for as long as I can remember.  It's not that things have always been great or that I've always been acutely aware of His presence.  It's more to say that to separate me from Him would be like trying to separate two colors of sand being simultaneously poured into a glass container - virtually impossible.  And who I am because of who He is in me is unrecognizable compared to who I would be without Him.  It's not to say that I am perfect or a great rep for him; but I know I am different. 

While I'm not an evangelist, in fact I've always thought that actions speak louder than words, my mom once said that I talked so much about Jesus to my third grade teacher that she started going back to church, she just felt compelled to do so. 

When I was about 10 or 12, we attended the Clairmont Presbyterian Church in Atlanta, GA.  It's one of those big old traditional churches: brick walls, white steeple, gold and grey inside with traditional woodwork.  I told the pastor that I wanted to speak in church, and he let me.  I don't remember what I talked about, but I remember it felt right to be up there speaking to the large congregation.  I could almost see my friends in the balcony from where I stood behind the pulpit.  I could tell that they were shocked to see me up there; but I didn't feel shocked.

When I was 15, I went with a group of kids who were a few years older than me to do  Vacation Bible School in Virginia's coal country.