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When I was a little girl, my mother would remind me
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each night before bed to open up my heart to God.
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For he was kind, merciful and just.
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Things changed when my father left a few years later,
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leaving her to raise me and my brothers
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in a place on the edge of the Mojave desert.
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She never talked of a kind, merciful God again.
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Instead she spoke of a prophecy
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of a time when all the world would be covered in darkness
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and the fate of mankind would be decided.
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One night I finally got up the courage to ask my mother
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why God had changed,