Can you tell me what three basic pieces of information are on almost every tombstone? The name of the person, their date of birth, and their date of death. No one knows the exact day or moment when death will take them, but I can make you a guarantee: you are going to be dead l
I have alopecia areata, an autoimmune disorder that is attacking my hair follicles, leaving me with no hair. It is not life threatening, and I really feel well. It has been quite a transformation going from a head of thick hair to having none. But, I really want to share where an even bigger transformation has taken place in my life!
Originally, my family and I are from Albania, a country in Europe. During the time my parents were growing up, there was religious anarchy, and the nation was predominantly split into two denominations, Catholic and Muslim. Catholics didn’t associate with Muslims, and Muslims didn’t associate with Catholics. If you were anything other than Catholic or Muslim, neither would associate with you! My parents were more than lost when it came to what and who God was, so they decided to just believe there was a God, but not follow a particular religion.
I was blessed to grow up in a Christian home. At a young age, I learned all about God and the Bible at home, as well as in Sunday school stories and church messages. By being introduced to this at such a young age, it all seemed second nature to me. I knew what to say and how to say it so I could just blend right in with everyone else around me and keep both my parents and teachers happy. Knowing all of this made me become a rule follower to appease everyone, but I was doing all of this for the wrong reasons.
I grew up in a Christian home brought up by parents who brought me to church every time the doors were open since I was about two weeks old. Growing up, I knew in my head that I needed to be saved because of what I was taught, so on a number of occasions I would ask God to save me without realizing what it really meant and acknowledging that I was a sinner in God’s sight.
My name is Alyssa Hall, and this is my story. I was what most would call a “good girl.” I was raised by godly parents who sought ways to teach me about God and what He could do in my life. They made an effort to have me in church every single service and to be involved in activities at church that would put me around other Christian young people.
My name is Jack Hammond, and this is my story. I was born in Allentown in 1967, and I grew up in a fairly religious home, though we didn’t attend church on a regular basis. Many times my grandmother, who was very faithful to go, took my sister and me as much as she could. I can remember when my mom and stepdad finally made the decision to go regularly. That lasted for a few years, but tapered off when the pastor, who my parents really liked, moved on.