baptism

Confessions of a Born Again

It’s Friday night. I’m sitting on the top bunk singing The Old Rugged Cross. I love that hymn, especially the part in the chorus where you get to sing up high. My younger sister, Karen, is asleep or she’s being quiet and not talking for once. We don’t call her Chatty Cathy for nothing. Mommy and Daddy are playing cards with Bernie and Lilly Fowler in the kitchen. I keep hoping they hear me.

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