Are you now ready to give your lives to Him?” “There is no other way to God,” Kathryn said softly, “except through Christ. “Tell us about your Jesus,” Eve said seriously.įor the next twenty minutes, Kathryn took them through the Bible, pointing out the passages that proved Jesus Christ was the promised Messiah, the Son of God. God sent me here to minister to you, and I am not going to be satisfied until the two of you are on your knees, confessing your sin and asking to be born again.” I came on a much higher invitation than from two wonderful women. After the meal, Kathryn said, “You think you invited me here, but you didn’t. Neither were Christians, although both were fascinated by Kathryn’s personality, attending as many of the services at the Tabernacle as possible.Įve was a terrific cook, and the two of them decided to invite Kathryn to their home for Thanksgiving, 1946. Jesse worked at the bank in Franklin, and Eve, whose pharmacist husband had recently died, lived with her. One was Jesse Vincent, the other was Eve Conley. It wasn’t long before she met two women who were to have a profound influence on her life. When Kathryn moved to Franklin, she took up residence in the third floor attic room of the Business Women’s Club. Until he died, twenty-three years later, Kathryn sent flowers to the sheriff on his birthday. She knew, however, that nothing short of a miracle could have saved her if, in 1948, the story hit the papers in Franklin. But by that time Kathryn’s ministry would be so firmly established that no slander from the past could hurt it. It would be almost seven years before a newspaper in Akron, Ohio, learned of her divorce and it ran it as a front page story. “I will be grateful to you for the rest of my life,” she said softly. He turned to leave, but Kathryn reached out and caught his arm. There is no need for anyone but the two of us to know what has happened.
That is the reason I am delivering these papers personally.
But I have been attending your services and am convinced God sent you to this crime-riddled county for a special purpose. “My office ordinarily releases the names of all divorce suits to the local newspaper. The sheriff reached over and touched her arm. The ghost of her past had reappeared just when it looked like everything was working out in her favor. It is a divorce suit filed in Arizona by Burroughs A. “This morning my office received papers, which I am required to serve you. He introduced himself and asked to come in. The sheriff, dressed in street clothes, was waiting at the hall. … A week later there was a knock on the door of her third floor apartment. (From the book DAUGHTER OF DESTINY, pp 120 – )
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