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I went to Sunday school when I was small and learned all about God. After I was married I decided to go again and take my children. I could not persuade my husband to go, but the children and I went regularly or a year. Then I skipped a Sunday – And soon I skipped two or three; then we went only on special days. Soon I joined a bowling team that competed on Sunday afternoon. I could not go to church and get ready to go bowling…and it had become such fun.

Three months ago in a courtroom I saw and heard a judge say, “TWENTY YEARS!” He was pronouncing sentence on my 21-year-old son, punished for drinking gambling, robbery, which ended in the near death of a man.

The sentence might have been less, but my son took a sneering, defiant attitude all through the court, ridiculing every law officer who spoke to him. But the crowning, shocking climax came when the judge sternly asked, “Young man, don’t you believe in God?” My son laughed loud and long as he said, “God, who’s that?”

Every eye in the courtroom turned to look at me. If only I had those years to live over. Night after night, I have paced the floor with the words ringing in my ears, “TWENTY YEARS!” Was it my fault?

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