An Ordinary Life Touched by an Extraordinary God - Part 5

My folks had five children, all of us crammed into a small house. We lived twenty miles from mom’s parents, so she systematically shipped us over to them two at a time almost every weekend and for a week at a time in the summer.  The eldest went by himself. I’m sure mom welcomed a quieter house while knowing we were in good hands.

My grandparents’ house sat half a block from our denominational college, Northwest Nazarene College, (now University). Behind their house sat College Church. For reasons known only to them they attended Nampa First Church of the Nazarene across town and not the church on whose doorstep they virtually sat. I mean, all they had to do was walk out their back door, down the alley half a block and they were at the door of the church. I haven’t figured out this phenomenon to this day but the beauty of it for me meant that in the summer when we spent a week with them, my sister and I got to attend three Vacation Bible Schools. The one at our home church in Boise and two in Nampa.

I loved VBS as it gave us something fun and exciting to do instead of chores at home. The summer I turned six, College Church erected a tent in Kurtz Park which spread out its green skirt a block or two away from gramma’s house. On the last day of VBS at the last gathering before we were dismissed, the speaker told us about how we could accept Jesus into our hearts and He would help us be good and help us when we needed help.

Now I wasn’t a bad little girl but I knew I wasn’t good, either. I didn’t lie—unless it might be to my advantage; I didn’t steal; I didn’t swear; I didn’t beat up on my little brothers or older sister—unless provoked and needed to retaliate. But I thought people might love me more if Jesus made me good so I went forward, knelt and asked Jesus into my heart. I don’t know what happened but I know I was a changed person when I walked back to gramma’s house.

I can’t tell you I lived perfectly from then on but I always wanted to please Jesus. I learned Bible verses—it helped that Grampa gave me a nickel for every verse I learned—but those verses have stayed with me, helped me and comforted me over the years.

Then I became a teenager. I didn’t set out to yield to peer pressure but I did. I never did anything bad or wild—well, not too wild, anyway. I just drifted away from following Jesus. I married, had two kids and now sat in our little house facing the “Big C” and almost certain death.

With my upbringing and my background I knew the best way—really the only way—to deal with this new, ugly situation meant turning back to the God I’d left behind. One day, the two little ones were napping a the same time, a miracle in itself, and I decided it was a good time to mop my kitchen floor. I got on my hands and knees with a bucket and a rag and began scrubbing. Then Jesus showed up. I don’t remember what He said, I just remember knowing that now was the time. There with the bucket as an altar, I made the choice to walk with Him again and that this time there would be no turning back, no matter what.

I didn’t know at that moment how this simple act would impact my life or the difficulties that lay ahead. I knew for sure, though, that I belonged to God, come what may.

Question: Have you reached that place and chosen to walk with God?  I'd love to hear about it.