As I grew up, I knew my grandma as a saint. She didn’t just get her bible out of the closet on Sunday, go to church and then come home and do her own thing the rest of the week. She went to church every Sunday morning and night, every Wednesday night. She was also on the prayer chain at her church. And every morning, she read Our Daily Bread (which is why I started reading it too). But I went to church when I had to, at her house on any weekend. I was baptized at her church at the age of 9, but nothing changed. I kept living the same (not sinful, but not saintly), kept watching the same shows, sleeping in on Sunday mornings, normally, etc. But, at the age of 16, I was in a bad accident that almost, should of, killed me and spent 4 1/2 months in the hospital, a year in a wheelchair and shattered dreams (Air Force Academy was no longer an option). But then God orchestrated events that brought me closer to Him. Met a kid in High School at lunch who inspired me to read the Bible, at CU met my current best friend (who’s currently a missionary in Spain to North African Nations) who led a Bible Study and with whom I started attending church regularly. Baptized in 1984, bad accident in 1991, started reading the Bible in 1993, attending church regularly in 1994. (Also started reading Our Daily Bread in 1995.) Maybe, not the right way, but better late than never!