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Crossing Cultures Making Disciples Memoir

Be alert and pray

“Momma. Momma.” I woke from a deep sleep. In the middle of the night. 

Jenna, 6 or 7 years old at the time, was standing next to the bed. Pressing my arm. 

Yes?

“I heard a voice. Like this…” her voice changed from sweet innocence to a guttural growl. “‘Jenna, I’m going to get you.’ And there were two red eyes. And he laughed like this…” It was an evil laugh. 

I sat up straight in bed. On high alert. Heart pounding. Wide awake.

Jenna on the right, with friends in kindergarten.