Around 7:00 a.m. on July 26, Tina held her closed Bible,
ready to open it and read. A door down the hallway squeaked shut; that sounded
like Justin’s door. …
A few minutes later he appeared at her bedroom doorway, dressed and ready to begin the day. “Want to hear some good news?” he asked his mom.
Smiling, Tina assured him that she did; he wanted her to guess. “Uh … You’re still my little boy?” (In seven days he would turn 18, but she still considered him her little boy in some ways—even though he towered over her by now.) No, that was not what he had meant. Her next guess: “You decided to become a Christian?” After all, that would be good news—the best kind of news of all. And that was his news indeed: Justin had been saved.
A few minutes later he appeared at her bedroom doorway, dressed and ready to begin the day. “Want to hear some good news?” he asked his mom.
Smiling, Tina assured him that she did; he wanted her to guess. “Uh … You’re still my little boy?” (In seven days he would turn 18, but she still considered him her little boy in some ways—even though he towered over her by now.) No, that was not what he had meant. Her next guess: “You decided to become a Christian?” After all, that would be good news—the best kind of news of all. And that was his news indeed: Justin had been saved.
He told her that at 10:45 the night before, he had prayed
by himself. Joyful tears sprang to Tina’s eyes. “I’m not much of a huggy
person,” she admitted. “But I feel like giving you a hug.” She paused, knowing
that he wasn’t that type either. “Fist bump?” She grinned. In the end, she gave
him a half hug and a shoulder squeeze. The happiest and most important birthday
had arrived eight days before Justin turned 18 years old.
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