It was a cool August night during Summer before my Junior year in high school. I was just getting off work on what seemed to be worst day of my life. I was having a mental break-down, nothing was going right, and every negative thing in my life seemed to hit me at once.

The clock in my truck read 2:13am as I pulled into my high school parking lot that I do so often to take time to think. I laid in back of truck and look up at beautiful stars and clouds. What seemed like forever, I was just talking and praying. I was praying that my life would get better and I kept asking God why He was doing this with my life. I am a Christian, I should have a great life, but it seemed to me, that He wasn't listening. I screamed, "God where are you?"

Mrs. Kelly, a dear departed neighbor, was a woman who really practiced what above scripture reads. She was a quiet-spoken humble woman of God. I met her and her husband when I first moved back to neighborhood in 1987. Both of them enjoyed their yard, especially all flowers and shrubbery they had planted over years.

Christmas morning, 1989, was especially beautiful here in south Georgia. It had snowed, and ground was covered. All water pipes in my mobile home were frozen, so I went next door to my sister's house to take a bath. No one was home; they had went to Mama's for Christmas dinner. I was supposed to meet my family there. I finished my bath, put on some warm clothes, and went out door. Across road at Kelly's was an ambulance. I went over there; Mr. Kelly had taken sick. He and his family had celebrated both his birthday and Christmas. Before he died, I had privilege of praying last prayer for him. He finished celebrating Christmas in Heaven.

After this, Mrs. Kelly and I developed a deep friendship. She had two granddaughters she was raising and she worked full-time despite her handicap. She had contracted polio when she was a youngster. She still cut her own grass and worked in her yard.