My mother was diligent to teach us children the way to the cross and she says that I prayed many times even when I was very small and asked Jesus to be my Saviour. But the time that I remember and that really made an impact in my life happened when I was eight years old.
As a family we were missionaries at this time in Chiclayo, Trujillo, and in the mountains in Peru, South America. My father preached in the churches in town and in various villages in the mountains. My mother taught music to the choir at church, did sewing for people in need, and homeschooled us six children of which I was the third oldest.
I was eight years old when my Sunday School teacher was giving a lesson on heaven and hell and I remember realizing with strong conviction that I was on my way to hell. When the teacher gave opportunity for prayer afterwards I gave my heart and life to the Lord and put my trust in Jesus to be my Saviour. The teacher actually made the comment that I was the missionary's child and gave the impression that she didn't think I needed to do that. But I knew in my heart that I had been convicted and I knew that something had happened, something had changed inside of me.