At eight years old, I went to live with my grandparents in Mullins, South Carolina.
My grandmother’s name was Rachel, and she was a woman full of love. It seemed as though God chose her to be that special, spirit-filled woman for the world to love, to those that knew her. I remember being burned; my grandmother called me over to her, and she began to mumble some words to herself. A few minutes later, the burned feeling had completely left. There were no blisters whatsoever. I asked her, “Will you teach me how to do that? How did you do that?” She said to me, “It’s a secret gift from God.” I felt hurt, and my grandmother said, “Cheer up, one day I’ll tell you.” I thought that day would never come. A few months later, my grandmother took sick and called me to her bedside. She said, “Do you remember the day you wanted me to tell you about the healing gift God gave to me? To be able to pray and talk secretly whenever someone had gotten burned and heal them?” “Yes, Grandma,” I said. She then began to tell me a few words. She also said to me, “Promise me that you will never tell anyone.” I made her a promise that I would not tell anyone. She had spoken a few words, closed her eyes, and passed on. (Publisher’s description)