My mother and I were waiting for the body of my stepfather to arrive from Ecuador. He died in a car accident a week before that September afternoon in 1997. To escape the heaviness of the moment, I went outside and strolled in the misty evening. It was eerily quiet; no birds were chirping and no cars passing. I was broken; a major milestone had arrived, the passing of one of those who had helped me find God in 1971.
I was getting wet, so I ducked into an old VW Rabbit that my stepfather had been fixing up. I looked up and saw a piece of paper under the visor. I took it down. It was a tract entitled “The Word HalleluYah–It’s Origin, Meaning, and Significance.”
I read it–devoured it, really, for my soul was hungry and ready for the next major revelation in my search for truth:…
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