I never really had a real belief or faith, but I can tell you when I had that profound moment of knowing it was just silly. I grew up poor and from a broken home, daddy wasn’t there and mommy didn’t care. So even though my brothers and I were forced at some times to go to church, my mother being of Spaniard, Mexican decent and a devoted catholic, I was the brat who couldn’t stay still and made to, though happily go outside and play, I mean wait. At age 11 my mother had a nervous breakdown, long story, collapsed and lay on the floor, I called 911. With no family to take us three, tainted with the white hombre blood, my father of German & Native American “Apache”, they stated many times, we had the Devil in our eyes. We were whisked away to Hillcrest Child receiving home in my home town of San Diego. then to emergency foster care in El Cajon where I had the mis-opportunity to be molested a second time, luckily it was by a young woman so I just felt embarrassed and ashamed not the other strange weird, pardon the expression Oh My God! feeling. After other abuse from a relative of the foster mother and being a fat poor uneducated kid amongst rich white smart kids, very cruel indeed. I was finally placed in a Christian God fearing foster home. Time to go to church, this is finally when and where it happens my friends. They had lined us up, to go on stage and be blessed. I was pretty nervous, they would have an adult or child go up on to a stage one at a time and the priest, reverend whatever his title at the time will place his hand on the forehead, push back, people behind you would catch you, lay you down and pray over you. The people would lay there and some where putting their hands in the air, singing, shaking some quite violently. you could imagine my fright. A man came out of nowhere, startled me as I stare memorized, whispered, rather heavily and hot breathed, “just fall back, they’ll catch you.” What? then he was gone. After what seemed an eternity… next up! Now living in a curse filled world with a drunkard of a father who not only cursed to the full extent of his ability while beating me, luckily but some how saddening he left us when I was at age 8. He also taught me and took a lot of pride in my knowledge of curse words. The only thing I can say was, “Oh My”. He placed his sweaty bulbous high blood pressure sweaty red hand on my forehead and pushed. I stood there, natural reflexes caused me to counter his rather hard shove. again, then once more harder than the last. Now the lady laughing, and others behind me adding ridicule to my embarrassment, pushed my knees while two men laid me down. Close your eyes and let Jesus into your heart, one said while the other started chanting, then more chanting or words I don’t remember or understood due to the mumbling and amongst the noise. I had it, that moment of knowing, understanding. This was not just nonsense but absolutely silly, ridiculous, I then turned my feelings of embarrassment right then and there onto these silly people falling to the floor, shaking and praising and singing. I had a harsh reality so far, I knew what is real, and found my own imagination to escape in my own way, fun with no rules after I come back or snap out of it. I would then make it my goal to find true happiness ,here, in reality.