Beulah Land Comes to Jesus

Here's the prologue to my current WIP:

Feel free to tell me what you think.

My name is Beulah Land, and I’m here to give my testimony.
Please forgive me if I seem a little nervous. I’ve never been a fan of standing in front of the congregation to confess your sins. Sure, I sat through countless testimonies as the daughter of a Baptist deacon, and I heard the words adultery, alcoholism, and fornication before I learned the difference between “near” and “far” from Sesame Street. It surprised me when Luke, of all people, wanted me to tell my story. He said that telling it might help others, and I want to help even if I can’t see how rehashing my mistakes could ever do that.
I suppose I could start my story on the day I was born, the day my parents saddled me with the name Beulah Land in reference to their favorite hymn. Or I could start with the fifties brick ranch where my father took his job as head of the household too seriously and where my mother ruled the roost by swatting at us with a burned up wooden spoon. I could start the story with my biggest mistake or my unlikely redemption, but I think the best place to start the story is where Luke walked in. We can pick up the rest as we go along.