My life now has a sense of purpose, although I am unsure, as yet, what that is. My outlook has changed overnight. I have always believed God loved me. But even with this knowledge of his love, I have been focusing on negative things, like what I haven't accomplished. Someone recently told me to be more positive in my life and think about what good I have done, and you have reinforced this. I know it's a message from God. I am putting my energies into being a cheerful, giving and loving person, and asking for his direction in my life. My children are grown—they've turned out wonderfully—and now it's time to move into another capacity. Hopefully, I will know what it is when the time comes.

If a person fails at his earthly mission and dies, will the spirit receive another chance to grow? And where? With all the struggles on earth, I would imagine that there are many, many humans who never realize their potential or actualize their life mission.

Let me tell you a little bit about myself and why your book interested me so much. I was thirteen before I realized we were the poorest people in the ghetto. I watched my father and mother use drugs every day and listen to them tell me how I'd never amount to anything. I was the oldest of four children. After the drugs, my parents would fight everyday. My father would beat my mother, and then he'd get on his motorcycle and leave. My mother would run outside yelling, "I hope you get on your motorcycle and die!"
Over the next three years I got tired of the verbal and physical abuse. At the age of sixteen, I ran away from home. I went to a nearby park and slept. I remember my mother laughing as I walked out the door, saying, "You'll be back. You don't have anywhere else to go." The park was dark and scary. I'd never prayed in my life, but I prayed then. I was one of the top athletes in the state and was too ashamed to ask for anyone's help. I went to school every day. That's where I got my meals and my showers.
Before I knew it, school was out and it was summertime. The first couple weeks were hard because I had no money. My little brothers and sisters would sneak me food down to the park, but when my parents found out they put a stop to it. I had never stolen anything in my life, but I was starving. I went into a store and put a box of Little Debbies in my shirt. A security guard grabbed my arm and took the cakes out of my shirt. He yelled, "Get out of here, you thief!" I was so embarrassed I walked out trying to pretend he was speaking to someone else. I went for two days without eating, but I was still praying. After the third day, I decided to steal again. I was so hungry I didn't care if I got caught. I just prayed to God that I wouldn't. I was almost to the store when I looked down and saw a book of food stamps. I ate good the whole summer, but I didn't thank God.
School started again and I was still too ashamed to tell my basketball coach I was sleeping in the park. When it was real cold outside I'd sleep in the restroom. I eventually caught pneumonia and spent three days in the hospital. On another occasion a bad storm came up with freezing rain, and I decided to walk to try to stay warm. I was praying that it would stop raining when a car pulled up beside me. A young lady was driving. She said, "Get in, Steve." My name wasn't Steve but I got in anyway. She said, "Steve, what are you doing out here in the rain? You'll get sick." I said, "I got mad at my mother and ran away from home." She asked me if I was hungry, and I said yes, so we went to a pancake house. After we ate she said, "My parents are out of town for a week. You can stay at our house." Being young, you know the first thing I thought of, but it wasn't like that at all. I ate and slept good for the next week, and then it was time to go. I thanked her but I felt an obligation to tell her who I was, that I wasn't Steve. She just stood there as I spilled my guts. She smiled and said, "I know you're not Steve. I knew that when you sat in the car, but God said you needed my help." Still, I continued to ignore God's presence.
I didn't attend my high school graduation, although I graduated with honors. I got a football scholarship to a university. My first month there my thirteen-year-old sister called me and said she was pregnant. I told her I'd get the money for her to have an abortion so my parents wouldn't find out. It took me two weeks to get it, and I planned to leave that Friday to take my sister to get it done. But on Wednesday, I received a phone call from her saying, "Daddy was killed in a motorcycle accident after he and Momma had their usual fight. He lost control of his motorcycle and ran into a tree." After that, I told my sister if she'd have the baby, I'd take care of it. I quit school and came back home and got a job.
My two little brothers always wanted to follow me. I'd always tell them no and they would cry. One brother was fourteen and the other was eleven. They were too young to be with, and I was busy chasing girls. Over the next few years everything went well. I noticed all of my brother's friends around, but I didn't pay any attention to the clothing they were wearing. I realized not long after that one of my brothers was in a gang. I stopped speaking to him completely. I'd just go see my youngest brother. He was my baby.
At this time I was working at a mental health facility in the adolescent department. I was on my way home when I got a call on my car phone. It was my sister, and she told me that my bother had just got shot. I kept driving, thinking that's what he gets for being in a gang. Then my phone rang again. This time it was my brother on the phone. He told me it was my baby brother who had been shot. I drove home hoping he would be all right. When I got there the paramedics were pumping his heart. He was a fifteen-year-old victim of a drive-by shooting.
For the next three years I blamed my other brother for our baby brother's death. Now I was working in the sheriff's department and making good money, legally and illegally. I was talking to a kid one day about why he joined a gang. He said, "My big brother never wanted to spend any time with me, so I picked my friends. They were just into the wrong things." That night I prayed because I knew it was just as much my fault about my baby brother's death as it was my other brother's. I called my brother the next day and told him to come over to my house. I told him I felt it was just as much my fault and I didn't blame him. We cried together and he told me how he had prayed for the day I could forgive him. Through my family's adversities, we are as close as ever. And my little niece is now ten and I love her to death. I'm glad we made the decision against abortion.
I've never used drugs, but I've sold plenty. I left the sheriff's department and started working at a treatment center, and that's where I was arrested. In the two years I've been locked up, all my buddies who were involved in selling drugs have received life in prison. And many are dead from drug-related violence. I wonder where I'd be if God hadn't saved me. I thought God punished me when I was sent to jail, but actually he saved my life.
Thank you and God bless you.