Even after many years as a born again Christian, I have never lost the wonder of my Savior’s saving grace and unconditional love. And like other born again believers, I take every opportunity to share my testimony with anyone who will listen.

Jesus gave His all for mankind by dying on the cross, asking only that His followers spread the good news of the reconciliation with God that His shed blood achieved. My euphoria at being given a second chance in life has prompted me to share my joy everywhere go.

Years ago I worked as a social service aide, which brought me into contact with many depressed and aimless young women. I made home visits to welfare recipients and transported them to medical appointments. Because I was “only an aide,” I did not have the same limitations in terms of conversations with my clients as my professional “higher-ups” did.

Thus, I was free to relate to the clients on a personal level. So when I was with them on a one-to-one basis, I often related how Christ had healed my broken heart after the break-up of my marriage, and how He had given me a reason to go on living after I had lost everything precious to me, including my children. I was able to bond with women who were in circumstances similar to where I had once been — a welfare recipient. But I had overcome the stigma and become an employee of the very program that had been my source of shame. I challenged my clients to seek better situations for themselves and their children.

I told them how God had restored everything I had lost including my children, and blessed me when I opened my heart to Him.

Myrtle B was an unconventional woman who was devoted to her four children. Although her husband was incarcerated, and her subsidized low-income apartment was dismal, Myrtle’s love for her children kept a sparkle in her eyes. Myrtle did not subscribe to the dictates of society or etiquette. She did as she pleased. She affected a tough exterior, yet there were times when I saw tears in her eyes. I grew to love and admire Myrtle’s free and easy ways, and believing that she could, encouraged her to seek a better life.

One day, as I sat at my desk, an uproar broke out in the hallway just outside my office. Someone had obviously gone berserk. A woman was on her knees pounding the brick wall, screaming and shouting. I recognized Myrtle, disheveled and red-faced, hurling profanities at the crowd that had gathered. I went to her, and placing my hands firmly on her shoulders, whispered comforting words to her. Then easing her to her feet, guided her to my desk, where between sobs, she told me how she had hired a babysitter for the children while she went by bus to a nearby town to see what she hoped would be a better apartment. She missed her return bus and stayed out longer than she had agreed on with the babysitter, who panicked and called Children’s Services. In the space of a few hours, the children were put in foster care. Under the impression that she had abandoned her children, they terminated her check.

Myrtle sought help and understanding from welfare, but they failed her. Desperate, she lashed out. Everyone else was afraid to approach the distraught woman. To them she was just another hard luck case. But I knew and cared about her. And so, by the grace of God, I reached out to offer sanity and comfort to her. I reminded her of God’s love and how He could do for her what He had done for me, if she would only seek His help.

The last I heard of Myrtle, she had been reunited with her children and was living in a nice apartment and had regained the sparkle in her eyes.

A Never-ending Story

Telling the story
Of my Savior and His glory
Is the purpose of my life
No dictates of society
Can silence or deter me
From telling what God did for me
So I bathe myself in prayer
And tell it everywhere
The never-ending story
Of what Jesus did for me.