I have very few memories of my life at age
three, which is probably a good thing looking back, but I’ll never forget the day
when I had to address a church audience with over four hundred members.
I don’t know
what the occasion was but Grandma Crookston, who is by no stretch of the imagination a
preacher, was up on the platform giving a talk. Suddenly I heard her calling me up to the
lectern and Mom was pushing me out of my seat.
Obediently, I
went up front. Grandma told the audience that I had memorized some scriptures and was
going to recite them. She propped a chair backwards against the podium and lifted me up.
My little heart
sank. I saw all of those people out there looking back at me…waiting for me to talk.
It was the spookiest occurrence of my youth. And then there was a long silence which
seemed to stretch into forever, really only a few seconds, before I realized I wasn’t
going back to my seat without saying a few words. I took a deep breath and then as fast as
I could, recited the | 
