Twenty-Two Years

I walked away from God at nineteen after my brother was killed in a drive-by shooting two blocks from our house. I was done. For twenty-two years I was done. I raised my kids without it, built a business, told myself I was fine. Then my youngest came home from college and told me she had found faith and asked if I would come to her church. I went to make her happy. The pastor read a verse — the same verse my mother used to read to my brother and me at bedtime. I had not heard it in twenty-two years. I sat in that pew and all twenty-two years came undone at once. I have not missed a Sunday since.