He couldn’t figure out why his mother believed it. To him it was a good story, as a good as the Westerns he was allowed to watch at 4 o’ clock. If Jesus came on TV it might convince him into believing too. His 9-year-old mind conjured up visions of Jesus riding into a dusty town, swinging through the saloon doors and asking who was in charge. He decided then and there, it would always be him. He would be the captain of his soul.
