In the beginning of 1992, I called out for the devil, and he came to me.

We (our family) were driving, and I told my husband that I’d be willing to make a deal with the devil to be a teacher again of cosmetology.

My husband just looked at me in shock. “Woman,” he said, “do you know what you have just said?!”

I thought his comment was a bit off; my husband had never referred to me simply as ‘woman’, especially when we were together in the same place.

But that odd warning did nothing to stop me. “Well I would!” I replied to his glare. The silence in the car was deafening, and we both felt a little uncomfortable, but I soon forgot all about it.

Until that night.

I was almost asleep, (or was I already asleep?) when he came. He called me, and I asked the voice who he was.

He said “you know who I am; you called for me.”

...

He spoke to me then, and asked me for the soul of my youngest boy, telling me that in exchange, he would let me teach again, and even be a director of the nearby school. He somehow had transported us into my youngest son’s bedroom; I could see him below me sleeping peacefully, but I could not touch him or protect him from this devil.

But with this one, my answer was easy.

“No!”

But then, knowingly, the devil pulled me into my older son’s bedroom. I seen my eldest son lying on his mattress, fast asleep. I dreaded the next question from satan, as I already knew what his question would be. How did he know my weakness so well? It was as if he had calculatingly discerned, to ask me for my youngest son first, KNOWING I would say no, and then turning to my oldest son, in the hopes that I would capitulate on him and then seal the deal.

My first born son had been born with disabilities, ones that made it harder to love him. He disobeyed more often than not, and was prone to violent temper tantrums, often striking out and injuring those closest to him. He disliked being held or touched, and often seemed to live in a world of his own. I had spent many hours in tears over him, figuring that he would probably one day end up in prison.

...

Satan was ASKING me for his soul. That meant it was not yet his! (Yes, there were many times I had wondered if he was already of satan; his behavior was that bad!) But if satan had to come to me to ask me for my son’s soul, that meant that there was REAL HOPE for him in the future! For why would satan try to bargain for a soul that he knew would soon be his anyways? He wouldn’t waste his time on it. I KNEW this, as sure as I was still breathing.

Then I knew that if there was the slightest chance of my eldest son ever coming to Christ, then I could not sell his soul to satan for anything. No matter what his behavior was, he was still precious, and he was still the child that I had so longed for, for so many years. This was the one that I had promised God, that I would love as my own, no matter what.

So as satan pressed in again for my answer, I told him “No!”

I thought that this would be the end of it, but satan kept on, nagging me, over and over and over again, trying to convince me to hand over his soul as payment for the desired favor. I told satan to leave, but he refused.

...

And then from seemingly afar off, I began to hear voices. I looked down onto the ground, from where they seemed to originate from, and found that the floor where I sat was no longer a solid unbroken foundation, but a crack had opened up beside me, that allowed me a glimpse into hell.

The voices were all crying out at the same time, howling in their pain and anguish. But this is not what struck me the hardest.

What hit me the hardest was the incredible, overpowering, hollow insatiable HUNGER. It was a living, moving entity, there in the pit before me. It consumed all souls in its grip and would never let go. It was HOLLOW and INSATIABLE.

Hunger for water, hunger for food, hunger for sleep, hunger for healing, hunger for companionship, hunger for ANYTHING and everything, that a human being would ever desire. But the fulfillment for it was not there. Only the HUNGER for it was there. And it NEVER ENDED. I knew it never would.

I could feel the heat from below rising up to my face. I could feel and smell the thick pungent smoke as it followed the searing heat upwards. And above all, was that insatiable, never satisfied spirit of HUNGER.

I backed away from the edge of the abyss, and shouted to the devil my answer.

“No! Now go away!”

But he remained.

...

Then I suddenly remembered someone telling me, that all evil spirits run from Jesus name, so I yelled out “JESUS! JESUS HELP ME! JESUS!”

And then the devil and all his smoke disappeared from my bedroom in the blink of an eye.