When I was born, my condition was a total shock to the doctors, to my parents and the rest of my family. The doctors wanted to take me from my parents. They told my mom I would not live a "normal" life. They told her that I would never be able to play with the other kids, or even sit on my own. After receiving the news, my mom decided to sign herself out of the hospital. Even though at that time she was unsaved, God had already started to work in our lives.

I had a sister that was four years older then myself. One night my cousin came over to spend the night with her. The next morning, my mom and I had to go out, so my dad stayed and watched my sister and cousin. When my mom and I were on our way home, we could not turn onto our street. The police had the road blocked off. We noticed that there was a helicopter in front of our house. We were told that my sister had been hit by a car.

My sister was taken to the hospital where she would die a week later at the age of eight. This may sound depressing, but it is one of the most important events in my life. The week my sister was in the hospital, the pastor of the church my grandparents attended visited with my mom. During that visit, my mom accepted Christ as her Saviour!

After my mom got saved, she started taking me to church. At the age of four I made a profession of faith. Every week my mom was faithful in taking me to church. She had always taught me that God had made me special. I did not understand what that meant, but I believed it. In fact, the first sticker I had for my wheelchair said, "Please be patient, God isn't finished with me yet."

By this time, I had already learned how to sit on my own, write with my foot, feed myself, and climb up and down the stairs. Since kindergarten, I grew up in mainstream schooling. The teachers and the other students treated me just like the other students.

When I reached my teen years, I became a rebellious teenager. I started hanging out with the wrong type of people, and listening to the wrong types of music. I threatened to kill my mother, and then commit suicide. However, I realized that because of my condition, I would not be able to go through with it.  I also realized that NOTHING is worth killing yourself over, therefore, I decided to leave home.

I went to a "friends" house, but he refused to take care of me. I was forced to go back home. Later on, I was glad because I found out that my "friend" was arrested for second-degree murder. That could have been me arrested, or even dead. I would have died without Christ and gone straight to hell.