Connecting Columbia Union Seventh-day Adventists

mental health

Randy Fishell

The first clue that something wasn’t quite right in my brain happened one Saturday night when I was in third grade. While my family was downstairs watching TV, I was in agony trying to read a few pages of a book, Nyla and the White Crocodile. My third-grade teacher had made it clear that reporting honestly about my reading was essential. If I cheated on my report— even if nobody else knew—God would know!