Not long after I turned eight is when I "became a Christian." It wasn't because of Hell. I don't recall my reasoning; but, I suspect it was because Jesus and God were the love I did not have at home, and that boundless for everyone gave me a sense of belonging. When the SBC pastor asked me if I understood my choice, I said something along the lines of that I love Jesus and He loves us and wants us to love God and that "God is love." I know I said quoted that part about "God is love" specifically; I recall we had studied for several weeks in Sunday school and the lessons were transformative for me.

Anyway, the pastor announced my "profession of faith" and paraphrased what I'd told him, adding something about "from the mouths of babes" and "let the little children come unto Him." Then, he had the children's ministry leader and his wife sit with me on the front pew to go over the "Roman Road" – that took a long time after services.

I have a vague recollection of an ice cream "birthday party" – but, I'm not sure if it was the same Sunday. It might have just been an unrelated Sunday around the time of my birthday when dad was off and we could all celebrate the birthday together. Birthdays were often not observed on the day for reasons like that.