Short Life?

I don't think I was supposed to live long. For some strange reason, I never truly believed I would. I remember reaching age 30 and thinking, "Wow! I can't believe I made it passed age 16."

Several reasons for my thinking:

1) My father told me about a time when I nearly drown but he or someone (maybe him, not sure) saved me. I don't really remember this incidence at all.

2) I do remember as a child playing at the water's edge with a new found friend. We were jumping over waves, (though, I believe we were at a lake) holding each other's hand. We kept getting a little deeper and a little deeper. I never sensed any danger. The next thing I knew, I woke up on the shoulders of a very tall man--seemed almost overwhelming. (At least at that age he seemed so.) I never saw his face, but he gave me back to my thankful dad.

3) I was walking down the street at age 7-8, I think, when a car suddenly stopped in the middle of the road in front of me. He asked me for directions and I told him best I could. He said he couldn't hear me very well and would I come closer. Now, back then you didn't hear even whispers of child molesters. Though, I'm sure they existed--always have. An inner voice told me to run and believe me, I did! I'll always believe that man meant me harm--no doubt about it!

4) Well, I guess I have to tell you first that growing up I was a major tomboy! So, when I tell you I was on top of the roof of the house next door, you'll believe me. What I was up there doing up on the roof only the Lord knows. I think a storm had knocked over a tree next to our house and so, since it was there, I just hopped up and climbed up onto our neighbor's roof!

I remember losing my footing and falling backward--hitting the ground hard! I lay there for what seemed forever with no breath whatsoever. At first I felt only frantic panic, then peace. I lay there wondering when the angels would come and get me. I think I called out to God since it was useless trying to call out to anyone else. Any bodily movement or function was physically suspended--I was completely paralyized! Miraculously, my breath returned and I was able to run off and play.

5) At age 13, my dad had taken a bunch of us kids to a local swimming pond. One of my friends was a rather large girl. I could swim by this time so I was pretty confident. My friend got into trouble not too far away from me. I reached out to help her and the next thing I know she was on my back pushing me down beneath her. I guess it's true what they say about your life passing before your eyes because that indeed happened to me. Nothing major to speak of, but I did relive the events surrounding President Kennedy's assassination. Then, nothing.

I think I may have started to panic, but then the fear actually left me. I resigned myself to the fact that I was going to die. I looked up and saw light swirling through the water--almost tunnel-like. I heard a voice speak to me and say, "Go all the way down to the bottom of the hole (I didn't know there was a hole!) and then make a strong push upward." (Looking back this voice somehow calmed me, like "Fear not"!)

I did exactly as the voice told me and in the pushing my friend was physically knocked off my shoulders and back into safer waters. I was able to swim to safety.

I think what stuck me most about this even was that I really didn't have anything to show for my life. That was more upsetting than the potential drowning.

There have been plenty of "near misses" since then. All I can say is that God and His holy angels were and are watching over me. Can't wait until I reach "home" to find out how many times God intervened in my behalf! To Him be the glory forever!

The First Time I Called Out to God

We lived near the ocean dunes as a child. (No, not affluent--just close). Dad used to take us there quite often. Dune buggies had just come on the scene and they were everywhere! It was such fun watching them--until that one day.

Everything was the same, the buggies going up and over the dunes. People watching, laughing--cheering them one (probably making them even more daring). Suddenly, one of the buggies went up in the air and came crashing down with the front of the vehicle hitting nose first into the sand. I saw it as if in slow motion. There was a young man standing on the back and he was holding on to the crossbar as they went headfirst into the sand. Strangely, the driver and passengers were fine, but this young man was thrown and his face and body were completely buried in the sand. People were motionless for a moment. Then, the people moved into action and started digging with all their might.

Oh, the time was passing so quickly, all I remember thinking was this man was going to die. Did he know Jesus? What would his parents have to go through? All strange thoughts for such a young girl. All I could do was to cry out to God to save this young man. God, please don't let him die. Please do something!

When they pulled him out he looked lifeless--no breath. I just kept praying. Don't think I've ever prayed as hard since. Oh, I know others were probably praying, too. But, it felt like just me and God at the time. Even though I was not saved at the time, I believe God honored my intercession. The boy sat up, coughed and began breathing!

Sparks

Boy, this one is hard to write about--because it was freaky--even today. Probably a plausible explanation, but it does make you wonder.

Anyway, when my sister and I were both quite young we were playing in the bedroom we shared. We weren't doing anything particular--don't remember doing anything wicked, but, all of the sudden sparks of fire would come up through the floor. I promise you--we saw the fire and the remaining smoke, even black marks remained on the wooden floor. This happened on at least two or three different occasions.

I had not thought about it for years, but before my sister passed away in 05, she asked me about it. Did it really happened. Yes, she remembered it just as I had.

Another God's Little Acre

I suppose one of my earliest memories of an awareness of God's presence was as a very small child. A new movie was all the rage--everyone was talking about it. Though, to this day I have no idea what it was truly about. The title was "God's Little Acre". I did look it up on the internet, but all I found was that it was quite controversial for it's day (1958). (Didn't even know there was a book!)

Anyway, as a then (can't believe this) 5 year old, I somehow got it into my head that if it was God's "acre" then naturally that "acre" had to be a cemetary. I knew we couldn't "see" God here, so somehow I connected the cemetary, and I suppose, death, with getting to "see" God. Oh, I was throughly convinced that this movie was about some type of glorious event!

I got all my cousins and neighbors to play out this movie with me. I think we might have used trash can lids as head markers. We marked out graves--though, how we knew to do such a thing, I have no idea! Don't truly remember it all, but I think as small children we all stood around praying at these "graves."

I can remember thinking, even way back then, that God was watching us and that He was somehow pleased.