I'm sick... again. I thought maybe this thing would blow over (and I still hope it will), but I may wind up going to the Doctor.
This is really no way to start a NEW BLOG which is basically just me spouting off of the top of my head (and really amusing considering that I'm fuzzy from Dayquil... which I need to take again). So let's start again...
I'm going to do some serious writing here... notions about "what ifs" and such. Why did I end up here... where I am so blessed with 2 beautiful daughters and the best husband in the world?
The easy answer (and most correct) would be "Because that's what God planned."
Trust me... this took some doing. I took the "road less traveled" and paths so worn they were deep ruts in the road. I've gotten spanked by the Almighty enough to realize this is who I am and not something else. He is whom I worship and not somebody else. He does have a plan and if you wait on Him, He will reveal what He's planned for you.
I felt called to Him at an early age. I remember sitting in the basement of Graham Heights Baptist in "children's church" with my sister right beside me. She was always watching out for me. I was listening to the sermon and thought "I need to walk down now." My sister tried to stop me, but I just shook my head and went on down. I knew what I had to do.
I talked with someone (I think it was Gerald Jones) and told him what I believed about Jesus and God. How I felt like a sinner and wanted to accept the precious gift of salvation and be washed clean of my sins. I prayed with him, my sister right beside me. She decided to do it too.
So then we had to wait after children's church for Momma to pick us up so that the man (we'll call him Mr. Jones) could talk to her about what happened. We went home and talked with my Momma & Mommaw (my maternal grandmother) & then went back to church that night. We talked with Bro. Club the preacher about our decision. He asked us alot of questions that I guess we answered correctly; so that the adults decided that my sister and I knew what we were doing.
We were baptized that night. My sister's was rather uneventful. When it came my turn, I paid attention to what Bro. Club said about taking a breath before he put the handkerchief over my mouth. I forgot to breathe. I remembered UNDER the water and proceeded to try to fill my lungs. What resulted probably looked like Bro. Club was exercising demons. I was struggling to get up out of the water & hitting the preacher in the process. I came up spluttering & coughing. Bro. Club hugged me and that was that.
It wasn't until I was a teenager that my faith was "tested". A Baptist preacher can really guilt you, especially if it's a revival. He can have the staunchest believer down to the front confessing sins and feel like he really did some good. I went down for various things... envy, "bad thoughts", not liking one of my classmates. None of these are really biggies, but I certainly felt that way.
The problem was that I didn't connect-the-dots that PRAYER is talking to God through Jesus... literally. Now that I am an adult (and have given this considerable thought), I liken praying to a child crawling up in their father's lap to talk about the things that bother them. I am a child of God. He is my Father. When I pray, I feel like He's holding me on His lap and listening to my troubles. Other folks may not agree but I don't care. This is my belief and my feelings on the matter.
So I should have prayed more when I was worried about things. Most people should. I forgot to pray. I was distracted with "important" things like growing up and going out with boys... going to college and learning about the world. Yes... those are the "important" things... the rubbish that I wasted my time on.
We are so lucky... blessed to have a patient and loving father. I hope you know Him.
