A Child's Prayer

     I believe it was the winter of 2001.  Our son Christian was 4, Elizabeth was 3, and Ashton was just over a year old.  We were happily living in Allegan, Mi. getting ready for the Christmas season.  A few years prior my husband introduced me to Battle Creek's Festival of Lights display.  As a child my family would take me to Frankenmuth to see the lights of Bronners, "The Worlds Largest Christmas Store."  Now that we lived on the west side of the state we don't get to see the wonderful lights of Bronner's that much.  So my husband showed me the next best thing, The Battle Creek International Festival of Lights.

     We seen many displays of Christmas lights.  We walked along paths that showed the images of the "12 Days of Christmas" and other traditional images of Christmas like snowmen, elves and, of course, Santa and his reindeer.  One of our favorite displays was of a lighted waterfall on a lower part of a building that appeared to flow under a pedestrian bridge.  All of the displays were really spectular. 

     While heading back towards the van we passed along the religious display of lights.  It was already getting chilli as it was late at night and Ashton was getting fussy and tired.  I was holding Elizabeth's hand when she started pulling away.  I grabbed my hand tighter to hers and let her know that we needed to head back towards the van.  She pleaded with me that she had to see something.  Her small mittened hand slipped out from my grip and she dashed towards the lights.  Brian tried calling her back but she failed to listen. 

     She stopped short in front of the lit cross and without hesitation she kneeled down in the snow, put her hands together and started to pray.  Brian, who was shortly behind Elizabeth getting ready to catch her, stopped dead in his tracks.  We understood what she wanted so desperately to do.  She wanted to pray to Jesus.  A few people that passed by took notice of Elizabeth praying and commented on what a precious family we have.  I have to agree, I felt very proud of her actions that night.

Even though Elizabeth's image was too dark to show up in the picture
I still know she was kneeling down in front of the cross. 

     It is amazing what a 3 year old can teach us.  That night she didn't care how cold the snow was.  She didn't care who was around watching her.  She didn't care that I tried to hold her back of her unknown actions.  She needed to pray to Jesus.  I never asked her what she prayed about.  I figured it was between her and God.  Seeing her in front of the cross praying made me examine my own walk with the Lord.  Do I hide Jesus in my life?  Do I openly pray and not care what others think?  We should always have the Lord on our thoughts, in good times and as well in times of hardships.  It is something so simple that a 3 year old can understand that.

An Awakening: A Christian Camp Experience

     Summer is in full swing and thousands of children will be attending a variety of camps before school will resume again in the fall.  This is a great time for children to feel independent from their parents and interact with their peers in a supervised scheduled surrounding.  It is a way to learn new skills and to push yourself to see what you can accomplish.  It is learning about teamwork while learning about something deeper inside of you. 

     It was the early summer of 1992.  I was 15 years old and staying with my Aunt and Uncle in Tulsa, Oklahoma for a few weeks.  I was slowly starting my walk with Jesus.  Even though I knew who Jesus was I never really took His words into my heart.  Growing up and attending church the priest sounded like the teacher from the Charlie Brown shows, "Wah Wah Wah....Wahhhh Wahh Wah"  Nothing was sinking in.  Church was nothing to get uplifted about.  You went, sat for an hour, and you were good to go.  The crowd I hung around with never really talked about Jesus or church or anything religious.  Faith was something for old people, not for the young. 

     My view of my ideas changed when I went to a christian camp somewhere near Tulsa.  I don't remember the name of it but it was my first time ever attending a camp and I was looking forward to the experience.  And what an experience it was!  I don't remember every single detail of camp but the parts I do remember really moved me.  Each cabin was a team and we had to study a few chapters in a book in the Bible that night and the next day we would do an activity with another cabin of who knew what of that book in the Bible.  I think we had to study 1 Corinthians.  The other ladies in the cabin knew exactly where to go in the Bible as I fumbled with locating it.  I would peek over at the table of contents quietly so the other girls wouldn't know I didn't know where that book was at and quickly get the page number and turn to that page.  Reading the Bible seemed so foreign to me.  We never really opened the Bible.  I knew the main stories of Adam and Eve, Moses, Noah, Birth of Christ and the Resurrection of Christ but the inbetween readings were unknown to me.  The other girls would talk about what they read, quizzed each other and debated over how they interrupted the scripture.  I was impressed that they knew their Bible and they loved learned about it.

     We would gather in a large pavillion for vespers and chapel time.  The songs they sang were upbeat and fun to listen to.  It was the first time I heard the christian song, "Lord I Lift Your Name On High".  I remember looking around the crowd and seeing almost everyone do the hand motions with the song.  I quickly learned it and followed along. We also sang "Lean On Me" and I remember everyone standing on their chairs, arms around each other shoulders swaying back and forth to the music.  What a great time!  It was more than just the songs, much more.  These teens where there praising Jesus and loving it.  They had Jesus in their hearts and were not afraid to show it.  Their parents were not around to push these teens into praying and singing.  They were rejoicing in God's name on their own will.  Never had I ever seen anything like that before. 

     Each day we had a speaker preach to us.  I hate to use the word preach because he wasn't talking on void ears.  He grabbed the attention of all of us and talked to us on our level.  It wasn't the Charlie Brown teacher at all.  He taught us what the Bible is saying in ways we can understand.  One man talked to us on the importance of abstinence.  He explained it this way.  One man really liked a girl and he wanted to impress her so he bought her a ring.  After a few weeks a beautiful lady caught his attention and he bought the same ring for that lady and dated her.  Some time when by and a third lady took his interest.  He purchased the same exact ring for her.  Finally a fourth lady won his heart and affection.  He went to the same store to buy the same ring.  He took the ring home and took it out of the box.  He looked at the ring and as he gazed upon the ring it didn't have the same sparkle, the same pizzaz as it did once before.  He thought about all the girls he had given the same ring to and it just didn't feel right giving her that ring he had given away to all the others who weren't so special as she was.  Point of the story is to save yourself (the ring) for the one you want to be married to, to give them that one special gift from you to them. 

    Another speaker talked again on relationships and abstinence.  He used a candle as a visual.  When you first buy a candle it is unlit, whole, pure, just like you are.  When you light the candle (he lit it) it symbolizes a relationship and how far it advances.  You might get a kiss from your boyfriend or girlfriend.  But when that relationship ends (he blew out the candle) and a new one begins you cannot start pure and whole again.  You start from where the candle was once lit - and kissing is easy to do.  Then your candle burns a little bit more and the relationship gets more advance.  Then that relationship ends.  The flame is extinguished.  Another relationship starts back up.  You don't start up near the top with kissing.  You already move to where the flame was last put out and move quickly forward burning more and more of the candle out.  God wants us to keep our candles (us) pure and whole until we marry.  We shouldn't have our candles burn out before we meet the one we marry. 

     There were other activites we did such as obstacle courses against different teams to get points.  The points led to special privledges such as swimming or staying up late to attend a bon fire.  Nothing stuck in my head more than the way Jesus was the focus in everyone's lives.  It was a real eye opener for me.  God is more than sitting at church for an hour or saying a prayer before dinner.  He is indescribable.  He is there for all people, all ages, whether we want him to be there or not.  He is our creator.  I learned that I need not be ashamed to call myself a Christian.  I learned that God has given us this great book, The Bible, to read and to learn from.  God has been knocking at my heart and I finally opened the doors and let him inside.

   

Broken Cross Awakening

 I was raised Catholic.  It is in my blood.  My great great great grandfather Peter DeRome was studying to become a priest in Montreal, Canada sometime in the 1850's.  He became ill and fell in love with his nurse, Margaret LaChance and married her in 1855.  I have past relatives who help establish Holy Cross Church in Saginaw, Mi.  I even had a relative, Ruth Pelon (1st cousin 3 times removed), who became a Dominican Nun as Sister Ursuline for the 84 years in Grand Rapids, Mi.  She past away when she was 101 years old.  My mother was once disciplined by her mother for saying the Act of Contrition wrong.  The school was teaching a new way of saying it and her mother was very upset by the fact they changed it.  During Lent we were forbidden to eat meat of Friday and we had to give something up.  During Advent we lit the Advent wreath - 3 pink candles and 1 purple candle...or was it the other way around.  I don't remember. 

Act of Contrition

O my God,
I am heartily sorry for
having offended Thee,
and I detest all my sins,
because I dread the loss of heaven,
and the pains of hell;
but most of all because
they offend Thee, my God,
Who are all good and
deserving of all my love.
I firmly resolve,
with the help of Thy grace,
to confess my sins,
to do penance,
and to amend my life.

Amen.

     I am no longer a practicing Catholic.  I have been baptized, made my First Communion, and received the Sacrament of Reconciliation.  I attended a Catholic school from Kindergarten up to 6th grade then again in 9th and part of my 10th grade year.  It wasn't until my 7th or 8th grade year did I start slipping away from the Catholic church.  God sent me a message loud and clear.

     At the time I couldn't quite put my finger on why I started to slide away from the church.  For me something wasn't sitting right.  I began to question the reasons we do certain rituals and said the same prayers over and over.  I felt like a robot regurgitating what teachers and priests told us to say.  To me it felt hollow.  I don't think I ever opened up a Bible until my 9th grade year and that was more of a history lesson rather than the meaning behind it.  We had Bibles at the house but it was something you didn't need to read.  The teachers told us the stories we needed to learn.  That was all there was to it.  I had no one to turn to to ask why we do certain things.  Everyone I knew was Catholic.  Why do we have to say so many Hail Mary's and Our Father's to be forgiven?  What if I had nothing to tell the priest during confession?  I was a child.  Am I supposed to do wrong things so I could tell the priest something?  What if I lied about my confession just so I had one?  Would that be wrong?  The endless thoughts started to suffocate me. 

     That is when I started to dabble in the occult.  It fascinated me.  I was learning about the lines on my palms, how many children were in my future, how many times I would get married.  I would even ask my friends if they had a hope line because not everyone had one.  I would ask the stars in the night sky for special favors in my life.  When they were granted I felt like the stars were making it happen.  Objects began to have spirits to them.  The four basic elements Earth, Wind, Fire and Water was all that I needed.  I had control of what happened.  Not God, not the church, and not my family.  I remember going to the library and checking out books and learning about different signs, chants and  symbols and how those signs can give me joy, love, fertility, beauty, wits, etc.  It gave me a false peace. How foolish I was. 

     One day it all changed.  I was sitting alone in my room reading some occult books with several candles placed around me.  It was dark but the candles illuminated enough so I could read.  I wanted to feel that power, control, in me.  On the other side of the room came a loud BANG!  It jolted me upright.  I looked over and my crucifix fell off my wall.  This crucifix, that I received on my First Communion six years prior had been hanging snuggly on my wall ever since.  I was not jumping around or making any vibrations to cause it to fall.  It just fell.  An awful chill ran up my spine when I realized what fell.  I ran out of my room lightning speed.  I did what any 13 year old would do when terrified.  I ran to mom.  She found it amusing since she wasn't liking what I was doing anyway.  I couldn't go back into my room until the next day.  I slept out on the couch that night.  I wanted to hide, especially from God because I knew I was disobeying His word. 

     I had my mom go with me into my room the next day.  We went over and picked the crucifix off the floor and to hang it back up on the wall.  When I picked it up the arm of Jesus broke off from his body.  Guilt like I never imagined swept across me.  I broke Jesus' arm.  I caused him pain.  I didn't want it back on my wall.  I didn't want in my room as a reminder of what I did.  Mom disposed of the cross disappointed in me I am sure. 



     Almost instantly I stopped dealing with the occult.  It was like God giving me a stern message that what I was doing was wrong.  Don't get me wrong, I wasn't a Christian overnight.  My walk with the Lord during my adolescence was more like a roller coaster ride than a walk.  I did plently of backsliding trying to figure out what my life had in store and what God wanted for me.  To this day God is still working on me but I have come a long way.

     A few years ago for my birthday my mom handed me a present.  I open up the gift bag and there was my crucifix...with the arm still broken.  Fear quickly came upon me.  Then I took a breath.  I realized I was saved and I shouldn't be afraid anymore.  I looked at his arm.  I was able to swing it around and make it whole again.  Just like me.  I was once broken but through Jesus, He has made me whole.  I keep my cross on my dresser as a reminder for my broken years and now I am now complete with God in my life.  My mom recently asked why I don't hang it up on my bedroom wall.  I told her I don't think I could bare it if Jesus fell down again.  I am not perfect but I don't want my sins to give me a wake-up call like they did when I was 13.