I'm not sure how to tell this story. That evening - Tuesday evening - screwed up my mind so much that all my thoughts and feelings were so muddled and confused that I still can't find the words to tell this tale. They're all jumbled up and I can't put them back in the right order. But I'll try.
First thing I should say is that this is a tale about prayer. It's about God. It's also about friendship, and faith. I hope you don't mind that it's all about my beliefs. If you don't like it, I'm sorry. But it's all true.
So I'll start from the beginning, and I'll tell you what happened. We're in April, of 2010. It's two days after Easter. Let me think - it must have been the 6th April. Does that sound right? I think so.
The people in this story are all real people. The places in this story are all real places. Everything happened as I tell it, though others would speak from different perspectives. Experiences differ. Certainly, when I told Bekah later how I had felt, her story did not tally with mine. Because we both felt something different.
Now you understand. Prayer doesn't work in the same way for everybody, you see. And this is the story of my experiences. Strange experiences. Not things I was expecting to happen. It wasn't just the prayer - it was the rest of the evening too. Anyway. Here you go: here's my tale.