WINDING MY WAY TO GOD
When I was five years old, my Daddy dropped me off at church every Sunday morning. He went home to read the newspaper. One day I said, “Daddy, did you know big people could come to church, too?” The next Sunday, he joined me at that Methodist church where he soon became a member and leader in the congregation.
Daddy died when I was eight.
After Daddy died, Mother dragged me to church every Sunday. Always in a snit, she yelled about wearing the correct clothes—dress, gloves, hats, slips—in order to look perfect.
The Upward Climb
The following summer, she dropped me off at a Baptist church to attend Vacation Bible School. Feeling alone with no friends and abandoned in an unfamiliar setting, I cried. I recall seeing a picture of a man they called Jesus. I stood before Him mesmerized, transfixed, drawn to His kind face. I remember the hand-held fans on a popsicle stick with a picture of an old white, wooden church. Mother never forced me to return.
During middle school, Mother enrolled me in membership classes at the Methodist church, which I hated. The leaders talked about Jesus, a man who came back to life after he died. Why didn’t my Daddy come back to life and come home?
When the classes ended, I joined the church and received a Bible too hard to read much less understand. Since my gift served no other purpose for me, I used the pages to save a lock of my blond hair. In high school, Methodist Youth
Fellowship presented the next step. With no understanding of spiritual matters or boys, I hated attending those co-ed group meetings, too.
I left home and church to attend college. What a relief.
Still Climbing
I never once attended church in college. After graduation when I married, I needed a church and a minister to perform the ceremony. The campus chapel with an unknown pastor sufficed. After we had two daughters, we both felt the nudge to attending church to get our girls baptized. Why? I don’t know.
Both girls attended their pre-school, and the welcoming members included many young families similar to ours. I developed friendships with other young mothers and my husband joined the men’s softball team. I felt hopeful. We had found a place to belong. Until one note-worthy softball game. My husband, in a typical fit of rage, cussed out the preacher over a particular botched play. Shamed and embarrassed, we never returned to that church. The minister never called. We never discussed the incident. Years later, we divorced.
The Climb Gets Harder
As a single parent, after moving to another city, my daughters met Christian students in their high school and wanted to attend church, so I obliged. They gave me a Bible with my name engraved on the front. My older daughter asked, “Mom, what do you think church is all about?”
I said, “Values. Doing the right thing in life. Having good values.” She seemed to think I had missed the point.
I walked the lonesome valley for 40 years, from the time Daddy died.
My life became a tangled mess. To cope with layer upon layer of stressful emotional circumstances, I popped sleeping pills.
Nearly Falling
My health deteriorated. Facing an unexpected radical hysterectomy and unsuccessful hormone replacement therapy, I needed more sleeping pills. I reached my breaking point when the cardiologist called personally to reveal my scary diagnosis—ventricular tachycardia. I could drop dead any minute.
My broken heart required more sleeping pills.
Continuing To Climb
The following April, my precious older daughter joined a Christian club at the University of Florida. She asked if I would help with her assignment to share “The Four Spiritual Laws.” Always eager to support her educational endeavors, I met her on campus with a picnic lunch to share. As I spread out our meal, she handed me a small yellow booklet and instructed me to turn to the first page.
Nearing The Top
“God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life,” she said.
“Um, huh,” I replied.
“Man is sinful and separated from God,” she read.
“Oh”, I grunted.
“Jesus Christ is God’s only provision for man’s sin. He is the only way to God.”
“Hmm.”
“We must individually receive Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord.”
She pointed to a picture.
“These two circles represent two kinds of lives. One lifestyle, a self-directed life, does not include God. The other choice represents a life centered around God. Mom, which lifestyle is yours?”
“Well, I have no idea . . . that one I guess.”
By process of elimination, I pointed to the circle labeled self-directed life. I never heard of the other option labeled God-directed life. She turned the page and continued.
“Mom, do you want to pray this prayer?”
“OK,” I said. I knew the correct answer was yes.
She prayed the sinner’s prayer with me. Then, dumbstruck, we just looked at each other.
“Now what?” I asked.
“Take a Bible study,” she replied. About that, I knew nothing.
God Found Me
As I drove home, I had much to ponder in my heart. God must have reckoned that interaction to righteousness, because soon my life began to change in unexpected ways.
Dear God, with Valentine's Day around the corner, I'm supposed to feel happy. Instead, disenchantment floods my mind, because I don't have a man to love me. Heart-shaped balloons and fancy decorated cupcakes haunt me at the grocery store. Ads for gifts flood social media. Even Seven-Eleven sells roses for last-minute lovers. The office provides no solace. Excited women gather to chat and giggle about upcoming dates, romantic dinners and jewelry they hope to receive. Cards and flowers adorn every desk except mine. When I arrive home from work, no one greets me--silence and darkness await. Who cares that I'm late? Who knows if I'm sick or sad? Who shares my sorrows and joys? It's not that I don't want someone to love. You know I've tried to develop meaningful relationships, but in the end nothing lasts except disappointment. God, my loneliness screams louder than the annoying buzz of the refrigerator keeping me company at night. God, what am I to do? Samantha My Dear Samantha, I've seen your precious heart trampled and betrayed as you wonder if you will ever find a suitable husband. I know how living alone depresses you, especially on a Hallmark holidays such as Valentine's Day. When you arrive home from work downcast, although you don't see Me, I am waiting for you. On days your heart feels sick or empty, I offer you My compassions and tender care. In the night as tears soak your pillow, I wipe each one. Many women settle for mass-produced cards with sentiments that fade along with their relationships. But, I wrote you a treasure of love letters in the Bible to express My everlasting love for you. Samantha, My mind overflows with caring thoughts of you all the time, not merely one day of the year. Red balloons pop. Chocolates disappear. Pink. flowers wilt. But My faithful love remains with you for eternity. I know you need someone that's faithful and strong. If you give Me your undivided affection, I'll lavish you with My love until you believe that I am the One you're trying to find to fill the hole in your heart. Samantha, will you join Me for supper at My house on February 14 to share an appetizer of wine and bread? Will you be My forever Valentine? Love, God
I hate Christmas. When I think of celebrating, sadness wraps around me like a heavy, drab coat.
When I realized abuse resides in my home, I trembled and cried. God what should I do?
How could I stop the hurtful relationships? How could I overcome the heartache they caused?
I remember the first time I feared my husband . . .
Emotional abuse systematically wears away ones self-confidence and sense of worth.
My tumultuous emotions crashed like waves against boulders. Why do I feel beaten?
When I hear the news about the rapid spread of Coronavirus, anxiety grips my heart.
Feeling lonely hurts, but no matter how helpless and forgotten you feel, find hope here.
God, where are you in the midst of this pandemic?
