Many people believe in God, but never really take the time to understand or get to know him until something life changing happens to them. This was the case in my early teenage years. As a teenager growing up in the small community of Galion, Ohio, I was known around town as my parents' rebellious child. Experiencing more than young teens should experience, I began drinking, stealing, and vandalizing property. All I really cared about was myself. I hardly ever spent time with my family, because they were always getting on my case about something I did wrong. They had told me on many occasions that I had an attitude problem. My parents dragged me to church every Sunday. Going to the early service always seemed like torture to me, because I was never a morning person. Although I believed in God, I only prayed occasionally. I was never really interested in getting to know God. I thought: I have my whole life to go to church and pray. Why start now?
             One Sunday night, I was driving my friend Crystal home after going to a wedding reception. Since there was a lot of construction going on in the area, I decided to save time by taking a short cut, and turned off onto a country road. The road seemed deserted, like no one had set foot on it for years. Crystal cranked up the country music on the radio as we traveled on the curvy, winding road. As I was coming over a hill, I glanced down at the speedometer reading forty-five. This was the last thing I remembered before it happened. Out of nowhere a high-pitched scream sounded. Something vigorously hit the windshield, shattering it. Blood was everywhere. "Oh my gosh! You hit some lady!", Crystal screamed. I instantly stopped the car, snatched my cell phone from my purse, dialed 911, and threw it at Crystal. I didn't know what to say or do. I just couldn't talk. All I could do was cry. Crystal told the operator what had happened. He told Crystal an a...