I’ve told my story time and time again. Every single time I have fear. I tell my story anyway.
The woman my father murdered in front of me in 1968 – I’ve told that story, too. Now, over half a million people have been a witness to that atrocity.
Praise God! Because he loves and lives, I can face tomorrow. Because he loves, my fear is receeding.
I can’t change my past or bring the dead lady back to life, but – by God, I can tell the story.
Tell someone — anyone, your story. It’s your God-given right!!! It will help set you free from the pain and turmoil of your past. I promise you.
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