One of the grandsons, Reed, is a comedian without realizing it. When he was only eight, he and his younger sister, Peyton, had just built a small snow hill after one of Michigan’s heavy snowfalls. The hill was in their front yard and not even as tall as he was. Their plan was just to slide down on their tummies. My daughter, who is their mother, was out there with them. They had on all their bulky snowsuits, boots, hats, and gloves. Just before Reed was about to begin his inaugural slide down this tiny hill, he turned to his mom and said, "If I don’t make it, tell my story." When my daughter, Whitney, called and told me that, I could not stop laughing. As I thought about that statement, I wondered what story an eight-year old could have. But we all have a story, and I made the decision that God is prompting me to tell mine. My other motivation for writing this book came from a message by my pastor, Brad Powell, in September of 2014. He spoke that day right to my heart. Ever since I retired, I wanted to write this book, but I had not taken it seriously, as I was convinced that I would not have an audience for it. I had never written a book before. I did not feel writing was a talent God had given me. On this day, our pastor was speaking about David and Goliath. We all know the story of Goliath. He led the Philistines, was over nine feet tall; and was a proven warrior with a fifteen-pound spear and a bronze helmet. He mocked God and the army of the Israelites for forty days. The Israelites were all afraid of him and would not fight him. David, a shepherd boy with no army weapons, upon hearing Goliath mock and defy God, volunteered to go up against him. He was not bothered by Goliath’s size because he trusted God for the victory. There is nothing that God cannot and will not do with or through a person fully surrendered to trusting Him. In Samuel 17:51, we see that after David defeated Goliath with just a sling shot and one small stone, the Philistines were then running from the Israelites. That defeat changed everything, all because a young man trusted God. Pastor Brad challenged us by asking us what our stone was and if we were using it for God. I pondered that question. Most people when answering, would usually think about what talents and gifts God had given them, most often in the positive realm. I thought back to the times I had been able to share what God has done in my life. Almost always the conversations had begun by a person asking me about my scars. It had always been very natural for me to easily turn the discussion toward God and all He has shown me through my life’s experiences. As I reflected on these thoughts, I quickly understood that my stone was the fact that I had gotten severely burned at the age of eight. My mom asked my cousin Bob, who was then seventeen, if he would make the fire a little bigger. The fire was almost out, and the fudge was not cooking fast enough for us hungry kids. Bob picked up the red kerosene container that was shaped like a gasoline can. I saw him tilt the can over the flames. The sound of the explosion never reached my ears. My eyes had involuntarily sealed shut. Immediately I knew that something horrible had happened. I could sense it, yet it was all so unclear. I felt so warm. And the smell. The few times I have had a spot cauterized, my mind goes back to the smell of burning flesh on that day, even though at the time, I was in shock and did not know what was happening. I would have no relief from the frightening feelings I was experiencing. Shock is a strange phenomenon. I was aware enough to know that something awful had just happened to me even though my eyes were closed, and I could not see, nor hear sounds. It was simply a fear that I was dying. I can still remember that feeling but do not know how to describe it. I did not know I was on fire and neither did I feel pain – only fear.