In the late 70s I was a manager for Pizza Hut. The area office secretary, a woman named Paula, was reading The Urantia Book on her lunch break one day when I came into the office to turn in some reports. I have always been an omnivorous reader, and always ask people what they're reading. When she said it was a book about God and spiritual things I became really interested. "Who's it by?" I asked her. "Uh ... uh ... angels, sort of," she stammered.
By now I was even more intrigued, and asked if I could borrow it. As I recall, she was able to lend it to me just long enough for me to read enough to convince me I had to get my own copy. I did so immediately, and the course of my life began to change.
From the time I was very small, I remember being convinced of God's love for me and the essential goodness and friendliness of the universe. My poor family was a mess; we were dysfunctional before it was "in" and before it was so named. Some horrible things happened to me as a child, but somehow I always knew that wasn't the way it was supposed to be.
One of my earliest spiritual memories is of roller-skating around my block at dusk and watching the stars come out, speculating whether somewhere among the stars there was another little girl looking out at me and pondering the same things. I would talk to God and wonder if I would ever know why I was created and what my true destiny, my purpose for being, was. Conventional religion never satisfied me. Years later, when I found The Urantia Book, not only did it confirm what I had always known about our heavenly Father, but it eventually supplied the answers to all of my questions.