Conversion

Hell’s terror, my sinful complicity (whatever that was) and the saving love of God. All told with flimsy Bible figures on dingy, flannel covered cardboard.

Fear or maybe hope churned in my gut. I raised my hand, was taken aside. I leaned in to listen as the kindly old lady’s warm breath puffed on my face. I made a choice, the right one, to ask Jesus in my heart, followed her lead repeating “the prayer.”

“How do you feel?” She asked. “Different? Better? Can you tell God is near?”

“Nope.” I answered. “Feels about the same as all the other times.”